war he stood back to back with Abraham Lincoln, it is said, and overtopped that son of Anak by half an inch. The only distinguished man he had ever met that "came up to the advertisement," was the President's comment. High cheek bones, a prominent chin, thinnish and tightly closed lips, a mop of carroty hair parted well down on the left, a beard of the same hue under his chin, small, deep-set eyes, a strongly built nose, spare cheeks and a ruddy complexion told of enterprise, daring, endurance, wary judgment and kind, sincere impulses. In council he was shrewd and in danger fearless, with always a twinkle in his eye, a smile on his lips, and a cheering, well-timed pleasantry on his tongue.[1]
His men, recruited from the rural districts, had felt they were scorned a little by the St. Louis contingent, and had vowed to show them what "country boys' were made of; but they proposed to do it in their own way. While the city men had uniforms and military discipline, the riflemen neither had nor wanted such embarrassments. As every officer was a man of their own choice, they felt at liberty to choose also how far to respect and obey him. Doniphan, who loved his "boys'"' like a father, was loved in return, and they were ready to do anything for him; but a minor authority who meddled with their reserved rights, whatever these might happen to be, was likely to hear some vigorous cursing. Any form of manly dissipation was to their taste, as a rule; and they despised all carefulness, all order, all restraint. Yet they were "good fellows" at heart, and as full of fight as gamecocks; and now — on half rations, no salt and no pay?[2] — they felt ready for whatever Mexico could offer.[3]
At Valverde Doniphan heard that forces were coming from Chihuahua to defend El Paso, some two hundred miles from Socorro, and sent an order to Santa Fe that Major Clark with six guns and one hundred men should march as soon as possible to his assistance; but without waiting for him the command advanced in three sections on the fourteenth, sixteenth and eighteenth of December. Below Valverde the Rio Grande makes a great bend towards the west, and runs through a wild, mountainous region; and hence travellers bound for the south left it on the right. Adopting this course, the Americans now marched for ninety or ninety-five miles through the dreaded
