Trent, promptly, "take thirty men and
locate that firing. If you run into anything that you cannot
handle, rush word back to me."

Like a shot, Dave Darrin was off, running at the head of thirty
sailormen. Around two corners they dashed, then came in sight
of a scene that made their blood boil.

Some forty men stood in the street, firing at a house from whose
windows flashes of pistol shots came. Plainly the defenders were
pitifully weak. Up to this moment the men in the street had not
observed Ensign Dave's party.

"Sprint down close enough, Riley," Dave directed, "to see whether
the men in the street are Mexicans or our own men. I suspect
they're Mexicans."

"They're Mexicans, sir!" panted Riley, returning at a sprint.

"Ready! Aim! Fire!" shouted Darrin. "Charge. Fire as you need."

As the volley rang out several Mexicans dropped. Dave dashed
down the street at the head of his men.

A feeble return of the fire came from the Mexicans, who then broke
and fled to the next corner.

"Are there Americans inside the house?" called Dave, halting before
the open but darkened windows.

"Indeed there are!" came a jubilant voice. "Are you Americans?"

"From the '_Long Island_,'" Dave answered. "Come out and join
us, and we'll take you to safety."

"Now, heaven be praised for this!" answered the same man's voice,
devoutly. "Come, my dear ones. We are under the protection of
our own Navy men."

Out into the street came a man and woman past middle age. Behind
them followed a man of perhaps twenty-five, and a woman who was
still younger.

"I am Ensign Darrin, at your service," Darrin announced, raising
his cap.

"We were never so glad before to see a naval officer, Mr. Darrin,"
responded the older man, heartily. "Tom and I had only our revolvers
with which to defend ourselves. Permit me. I am Jason Denman.
This is my wife, this our daughter, and this our son."

Dave stepped closer to acknowledge the introduction. When, in
the darkness, his gaze rested on the young woman, Ensign Darrin
gave a gasp of surprise.

"You are wondering if we have met before," smiled the young woman,
sadly. "Yes, Mr. Darrin, we have. You thrashed that bully, Mr.
Cantor, one night in New York."

"I did not know, then, that he was a brother officer," murmured
Dave, "but I would have struck him even if I had known."

"He was here to-night, with the Mexicans whom you drove away,"
continued the young woman.

"Wit