would remain
beside it until the crack of doom, shells or no shells. He would stand
off them fire-bugs and looters when they landed, and tell them officers
what a plain American citizen thought of them. He wasn't afraid of the
swine. By God! he would like to boot the raft of them. He shook his fist
in their faces, he did; and as for that villainous launch rolling idly
in the swell while the big bully fired on the defenseless town, he spat
to express his disgust for it.

The bombardment, like a salute, continued with regular intermissions
between each gun. The marksmanship was poor, many of the shells falling
short or bursting prematurely in midair. Except for the church, which
was twice struck, and the chief's house that was set on fire, the damage
done was inappreciable; and Jack, whose heart at first had been in his
mouth, now grinned with derision as he watched for the recurring
flashes.

"The Chilaneans could do better nor you!" he cried.

"Jack," whispered a voice beside him, and there was Fetuao back again in
a state of the sweetest contrition and remorse. He took her in his arms
and kissed her; and then, like a pair of lovers, they held each other's
hands and shrank close together as the shells burst over the village.

The firing lasted for an hour, and then the flotilla of boats, preceded
by the American launch, passed in procession through the break in the
reef, and headed for Jack's house.

"Oh, it's the flag they see!" cried Fetuao, and she besought Jack, with
tears in her eyes, to haul it down.

"Never!" he said, grinding his teeth.

There were some three or four hundred men in the boats, and as they
raced in, cheering and yelling at the top of their voices, Jack quailed
in spite of himself. But outwardly, at least, he showed no sign of
agitation, standing like a rock before his house and facing the storm
that was about to burst.

It wasn't for himself that he was afraid, not so long as that
puffing-billy of a steamboat held the lead, and the grand old flag
streamed out behind her. The jackies would see him through this
business, whatever deviltry they might inflict on the rest of the
unfortunate village, for blood's thicker than water every time, and
Americans stand together all the world over. He wasn't no politician nor
side-taker, and it was all the same to him whether he had a missionary
king or a benighted papist. All he asked of anybody, by God! was to be
let alone, though this broadsiding