nce. Miramon's orders rose sharply and
quick, and the Empire sprang to obey. The Alameda batteries were trained
on the hill, and a few moments later the guns on the roof of the La Cruz
monastery were also. At the same time, the army, the entire Imperialist
reserve, battalion after battalion in close, hurried ranks, set out
across the grassy plain, straight toward the Cimatario's front slope.
Foot, horse, artillery, the concentrated might of the Austrian's
sceptre, was being hurled against a handful of jaded warriors.
Maximilian flushed with something like shame at the thought.

Back on the slope Driscoll cried, "No, no, keep to the trenches, you
fellows! This ain't _our_ promenade."

And soon, when screaming comets began to fill the air and burst around
them, they were glad of the ditches. There they waited, smoking,
spitting tobacco against the torrid rocks, but with sullen eyes on the
army moving nearer and nearer. Where, all this morning, was Escobedo,
who, with his thousands of Republicans on the north of the town had
taken no thought of the Republican stress on the south? He had not fired
a shot. Yet surely he must know by this time. But no matter. Over a
hundred outlaws were left, and nearly a thousand Grays. Missourians,
brigands, and guerrillas of Michoacan, they were a dangerous blend.

"Got a match, Harry?" asked Driscoll of the Kansan, as he filled his cob
pipe.

They _had_ to wait, you see. Yet haste was all they would have
begged of the advancing Imperialist host.

The red jackets of the Dragoons--the few that were left--brightly dotted
the van of the attacking thousands. On either side rode the Second and
Fourth Lanciers. Behind tramped the battalions of Iturbide, of Celaya,
and regiments of the line. They gained the foot of the hill and the
cavalry were dismounting before they drew fire. The baptism had a
sharpshooter deadliness, even at that distance, but the Imperialists
waited tentatively. No, there was but one volley. When the second came,
it was only after an interval long enough for reloading. Officers and
men glanced at one another more hopefully. The terrified fugitives were
of course mistaken, they thought. For the force above could not be
large, nor yet possess the mysterious sixteen-shot rifles. The assurance
gave the buoyancy of relief. To charge against carbines that made each
man as sixteen were uncanny, too much like challenging the Unknown. But
a thousand men who fired only every two