I was half mad, when I heard that he had been murdered. In twenty minutes after, I stood in the presence of the commander-in-chief. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. THE GREAT STRATEGIST. "What is it, captain? One of my aides-de-camp tells me you have asked for an interview. Be brief with your business; I'm full of affairs just now." I was not a favourite at head-quarters. I had no flattery for the conceited septuagenarian who at this crisis commanded the American army. Still his consent was necessary for my purpose. Without it I could do nought to avenge the death of my friend. That granted, I had conceived a scheme. "What is it?" asked the general, with an air of impatience that augured ill for my success. "What is it you want?" "Leave of absence, general." "Why, you've been off duty for six months. How much more do you require?" "Only six days." "Six days! And for what purpose?" "To punish these brigands who infest the road between here and Puebla. I presume, general, you've been informed of their atrocities?" "Of course I have. But what can I do? If I send a troop, they see the soldiers miles off, and won't stand to be attacked. It's like chasing a wild goose." "I think I have a plan by which they can be brought to close quarters, and some of them chastised. With your permission, I should like to make trial of it." "But I have no cavalry just now to spare--not a single sabre. The Government is so stingy, they won't give me men enough to fill up the regular regiments. They think I can hold a great country like Mexico without horses--where the enemy are nearly all mounted too! No, Sir, I can't spare a single dragoon--much less your own company; and I suppose you would want to take that with you." "On the contrary, general, I don't desire a single soldier from the ranks; at least only three or four of my own, whom I know to be men of courage. There are some dare-devils among our camp-followers--just the sort for such a purpose as mine. With a dozen of them, I fancy we can hold our own with the biggest band of brigands to be found among the mountains of Mexico." "You are a brave man, captain; but I fear not much of a strategist." Strategy was the god of this poor military simpleton, as it was of his favourite pupil, McClellan. It was the same sort of strategy that caused the rout at Bull's Run, and the consequent prolongation of the American civil war. But for it the army of the North might have stacked arms in the streets of Richmond in three weeks after leaving Washington, and the long sanguinary strife have been shunned.