But _The Lyre_ will say that you did, and that
will settle it for history."
Sam sighed and made no other reply.
The expedition against the Moritos started out a week later. It
consisted of two regiments, one of colored men under a certain Colonel
James, the other of white volunteers, with a brigadier-general in
command. Sam was assigned to the command of the volunteer regiment
with the temporary rank of major, its colonel having been wounded at
the battle of San Diego. For a whole day they marched northward
unmolested, and encamped at night in a valley in the mountains with a
small native village as headquarters. There had been little incident
during the day. They had burned several villages and driven off a good
many cattle for meat. Sam was surprised to see how handsome the
furniture was in the little thatched cottages of the people, perched as
they were on posts several feet high. It was a feast day, and the whole
population had been in the streets in their best clothes. The soldiers
snatched the jewels of the women and chased the men away, and then
looted the houses, destroying what they could not take, and finally
setting them on fire.
"It's better so," said Sam to his adjutant. "Make war as bad as
possible and people will keep the peace. We are the real peacemakers."
He heard shouts and cries as he passed through the villages, and had
reason to think that the soldiers were not contented with mere
looting, but he did not inquire.
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