Then another sight brought a new fear to the hearts of the despairing boys; the men on the hill above them had abandoned their guns and were retreating. Down the spur of the hill they came. Their path led over part of the trench in which the midshipmen stood. The lads knew that this flood of fear would sweep their own men along with it as so much flotsam. The time had arrived. Once the sound of the magic guns had been heard the engulfing tide might be turned. “Open fire,” Phil shouted, his voice hoarse with emotion. The furious barking of the guns, sending their leaden streams into the advancing ranks brought back the waning courage of the defending company. The assaulting columns hesitated in their mad rush for the hill. They saw their comrades mowed down by the score. Where was the easy victory their officers had told them would be theirs? A horrible fear of treachery came into their simple minds; they stopped. No power could urge them a step further; in another second they had broken and fled in an ungovernable panic back to their trenches for safety. The men on La Mesa were wild with delight. The lust of blood had entered their souls. They became foolishly brave and leaped upon the top of their protecting trench, screaming malediction and defiance at their routed enemy. “Get down,” the lads cried, grasping those near them and dragging them forcibly to shelter; but some had already paid the penalty of their childlike, reckless bravado. The enemy, once again secure in its trenches, had opened a heavy fire on La Mesa. Phil knew that the insurgents would attack again. Ruiz would not be satisfied, even if he sacrificed every man, until the hill was taken. “Keep cool,” the lads urged the excited soldiers, moving among them and seeing that the guns were reloaded with a full supply of ammunition. “If you can hold them once more our reënforcements will be here.” The rebels knew their time was short if they would take the hill; they saw the government reserves rapidly approaching to succor their comrades on La Mesa. Phil felt a touch on his shoulder, and turning hastily, he looked into the revengeful face of Lazar. “What do you mean by fighting here, wearing the uniform of the United States navy?” Lazar began peremptorily. “Come with me to the legation immediately, I command you! “Do you hear?” he continued in a voice choking with wrath, as the lad showed no signs of obedience. “I order you to leave here and follow me. Both of you,” he added, pointing toward the oblivious Sydney, who was out of ear-shot at the far corner of the intrenchment, gazing in awe at the battlefield in front of them.