Scott was in fact advancing. On the morning of Saturday, the seventh, his camp was astir early. The base of Popocatepetl seemed black, and the slopes a pale, silvery blue; but its top, almost 18,000 feet above the sea, was a "Blazing Star," as some of the Indians named the mountain, and appeared like an omen of victory. The Second Division was soon ready. Twiggs faced it, waved his hat round his white head, and cried in the voice of Ajax, "Now, my lads, give them a Cerro Gordo shout!" A simultaneous hurrah from twenty-five hundred iron throats was the response; and at six o'clock, preceded by the cavalry and the engineer company and followed by the siege train--while his band, mounted on splendid white horses, played our national airs--he began the eventful march. One day apart, Quitman, Worth and Pillow followed him. Though it was announced that no man unable to do three marches could be permitted to go, hundreds of convalescents unequal to the effort insisted upon trying, and, gradually falling out, rejoined the garrison of Puebla. Feeble in numbers[25.13] for such an enterprise, but confiding in their quality, their leader and their prestige, the 10,738 men and their officers pressed boldly forward.[25.15] For a time the dust proved extremely annoying and the sun scorched; but soon mountain air began to be felt, and the troops entered a wide, blooming and scented valley, full of rich fields, grazing herds, noble hacienda houses that were almost palaces, and trim white churches that seemed like stragglers from the great host at Puebla. In the rear shone Orizaba and the nearer pyramid of Malinchi. On the left Popocatepetl and his consort, the Sleeping Woman (Iztaccihuatl), deeply blanketed in fleecy white, looked hardly a stone's throw distant; and after the sun had set, the air grown cold, and the valley--now less open--filled with shadows, their purple tops glowed like interplanetary lighthouses.[25.15] Soon after passing the ugly little town of San Martín, twenty miles from Puebla, the troops began to ascend more rapidly. Eleven miles more brought them to a mountain river, Tesmelucan, where the elegant aërial bridge that spanned the abyss made them almost feel they were flying. The scenery now became Alpine. Deep chasms, answered to peaks, and lovely glens to precipices; and the cedar, the oak and the ash, as well as pines of extraordinary height and straightness, reared themselves on the slopes. At Río Frio, about thirty-six miles from both Puebla and Mexico, where an icy stream dashed foaming down the rocks, the mountains closed in on the left, and their crest, lined with deserted parapets, almost overhung the road.[25.14] Then a stiffer climb of about five miles placed the troops on a narrow plateau which formed the summit; and they were now 10,500 feet above the sea.[25.15]