The sounds of life outside came faintly to their ears. They heard the laughter of children playing in the streets, and the rattle of military accoutrements, as soldiers marched along. The heat of their dungeon was almost unbearable and they suffered from lack of water to wash their bruised bodies. Suddenly they heard the sounds of alarmed humanity; startled cries, a hurrying of many feet, and the clang of iron shod hoofs upon the hard earth. O’Neil listened intently. Then he sprang to the window near the ceiling of their cell, catching the sill with his fingers and drawing himself up until he could peer through the iron bars. “What is it?” cried both lads in alarm. “There’s something going on to seaward,” he answered; “the people are running about like chickens without heads, and the soldiers are moving inland. I wish we could get a sight----” His next word was lost in a heavy crash and sharp explosion that seemed to shake the building to its foundation. “Is it an earthquake?” cried Phil, excitedly. “It sounded to me like a six-inch shell,” exclaimed O’Neil. “I ain’t heard one so close since Santiago, but I recognize the tune.” Explosion after explosion followed in rapid succession. “The streets are deserted,” shouted O’Neil above the roar of crashing buildings and exploding shells. “It’s a bombardment. There’s a ship or two pumping shell into the town from the sea.” The sailor slid down from his position of vantage and pointed to the door. “Our guards have run for it. We must break down that door.” The three Americans, simultaneously, flung themselves against the stout oak, but it held firmly despite their united efforts. They stood in the middle of their cell, the perspiration pouring from their exhausted bodies. A crash louder and sharper rang in their ears. Then an explosion that threw them violently to the floor. The suffocating fumes of the exploded shell filled their nostrils. But yet another and more sinister smell reached them, which froze the hot blood in their veins; it was the smoke of a burning building. Their prison was afire. If the door held they would all be burned alive. CHAPTER X THE SCENE CHANGES Their terrible plight spurred them on to renewed efforts to break down the heavy door. The iron bolts were bent under their frenzied onslaughts, and the stifling smoke became thicker. The ominous sounds of bursting shell grew louder and more frequent. “They are shelling this very building,” exclaimed O’Neil, as he gathered himself for a spring at the resisting oak. The two lads were almost in a panic. The situation seemed indeed hopeless. The crackling of the approaching fire was very near; so close that the air of the cell was becoming too hot to breathe.