ncoln shouting out:

"Wal done, cap'n! Whooray for the mountain-men!" This added to the
exasperation of the Frenchman, causing him to strike wilder than before;
and I found no difficulty in repeating my former thrust. It was now a
sure hit; and after a few passes I thrust my adversary for the third
time, drawing blood. The cheer rang out louder than before. The
Frenchman could no longer conceal his mortification; and, grasping his
foil in both hands, he snapped it over his knee, with an oath. Then,
muttering some word about "better weapons" and "another opportunity", he
strode off among the spectators. Two hours after the combat I was his
captain. Clayley was elected first lieutenant, and in a week from that
time the company was "mustered" into the service of the United States
government, and armed and equipped as an independent corps of "Rifle
Rangers". On the 20th of January, 1847, a noble ship was bearing us
over the blue water, toward the shores of a hostile land.

CHAPTER FOUR.

LIFE ON THE ISLAND OF LOBOS.

After calling at Brazos Santiago, we were ordered to land upon the
island of Lobos, fifty miles north of Vera Cruz. This was to be our
"drill rendezvous." We soon reached the island. Detachments from
several regiments debarked together; the jungle was attacked; and in a
few hours the green grove had disappeared, and in its place stood the
white pyramids of canvas with their floating flags. It was the work of
a day. When the sun rose over Lobos it was a desert isle, thickly
covered with a jungle of mangrove, manzanel, and icaco trees, green as
an emerald. How changed the scene! When the moon looked down upon this
same islet it seemed as if a warlike city had sprung suddenly out of the
sea, with a navy at anchor in front of its bannered walls!

In a few days six full regiments had encamped upon the hitherto
uninhabited island, and nothing was heard but the voice of war.

These regiments were all "raw"; and my duty, with others, consisted in
"licking them into shape". It was drill, drill, from morning till
night; and, by early tattoo, I was always glad to crawl into my tent and
go to sleep--such sleep as a man can get among scorpions, lizards, and
soldier-crabs; for the little islet seemed to have within its boundaries
a specimen of every reptile that came safely out of the ark.

The 22nd of February being Washington's birthday, I could not get to bed
as usual. I was compelled to accep