"They do go.

But how many perish on the way?
They march between the unburied and withered corpses of their predecessors.

And what a journey for a woman--for a lady accustomed to luxury--for my little cousin! I beg your pardon, my dear Lieutenant Thurstane, for disagreeing with you.

My advice is--the isthmus." "I have, of course, nothing, to say," admitted the officer, returning Coronado's bow.

"The family must decide." "Certainly, the isthmus, the steamers," went on the fluent Mexican.