They, however, met his eagerness with coldness. It was a mad and
hopeless plan, they thought, and they did their best to dissuade
Menendez from it. But Menendez was determined to go.
"Comrades," he said, "it is now that we must show our courage and
our zeal. This is God's war, and we must not turn our backs upon
it. It is war against heretics, and we must wage it with blood and
with fire."
But the Spanish leader's eager words awoke no response in the
hearts of his hearers. They answered him only with mutterings.
Still Menendez insisted. The debate grew stormy, and angry words
were flung this way and that.
At length, however, Menendez had his way. The clamour was stilled,
the officers gave a grudging consent, and preparations for the
march were begun. In a few days all was ready, and the expedition
set out. It was a simple matter. There was no great train of
sumpter mules or baggage wagons. Each man carried his own food and
ammunition, and twenty axemen marched in front of the little army
to cleave a way through the forest.
The storm still raged. Rain fell in torrents, and the wind howled
ceaselessly as on and on the men trudged. They plunged through
seas of mud, and grass which grew waist high, and threaded their
way along the narrow paths cloven for them by the axemen.
So for three days they toiled onward.
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