rward pell-mell, blocking up the entrance.

On came the guerilleros, with streaming pennons and lances couched,
shouting their wild cries:

"_Andela! andela! Mueran los Yankees_!" (Forward! forward! Death to
the Yankees!)

The foremost of the soldiers were already upon the heels of the crowded
mules, pricking them with bayonets. The animals began to kick and
plunge in the most furious manner, causing a new danger in front.

"Face about--fire!" I commanded at this moment.

An irregular but well-directed volley emptied half a dozen saddles, and
for a moment staggered the charging line; but, before my men could
reload, the guerilleros had leaped clear over their fallen comrades, and
were swooping down with cries of vengeance. A dozen of their bravest
men were already within shot-range, firing their escopettes and pistols
as they came down.

Our position had now grown fearfully critical. The mules still blocked
up the entrance, preventing the soldiers from taking shelter behind the
stockade; and before we could reload, the rearmost would be at the mercy
of the enemy's lances.

Seizing the major's servant by the arm, I dragged him from his horse,
and, leaping into the saddle, flung myself upon the rear. Half a dozen
of my bravest men, among whom were Lincoln, Chane, and the Frenchman
Raoul, rallied around the horse, determined to receive the cavalry
charge on the short bayonets of their rifles. Their pieces were all
empty!

At this moment my eye rested on one of the soldiers, a brave but
slow-footed German, who was still twenty paces in the rear of his
comrades, making every effort to come up. Two of the guerilleros were
rushing upon him with couched lances. I galloped out to his rescue; but
before I could reach him the lance of the foremost Mexican crashed
through the soldier's skull, shivering it like a shell. The barb and
bloody pennon came out on the opposite side. The man was lifted from
the ground, and carried several paces upon the shaft of the lance.

The guerillero dropped his entangled weapon; but before he could draw
any other, the sword of Victoria was through his heart.

His comrade turned upon me with a cry of vengeance. I had not yet
disengaged my weapon to ward off the thrust. The lance's point was
within three feet of my breast, when a sharp crack was heard from
behind; the lancer threw out his arms with a spasmodic jerk; his long
spear was whirled into the air, and he fell back in