“They are in force!” Phil exclaimed, his heart sinking within him as he urged his tired mount forward. The ranch with its surrounding orchard of fruit trees now lay just below them and the white road winding down the hill glistened in the dim moonlight. Tongues of flame darted here and there from the shadows of trees and shrub, even close to the house itself, while further in the background toward the river a line of flame resembling fireflies on a summer evening told him the soldiers of Rodriguez were stubbornly resisting the main attack from their solidly built trenches. As they plunged madly down the hill road, his alert eyes tried to disentangle the situation. He saw many moving figures flitting through the trees, the moonlight glinting on their bright bladed bolos, while toward the river a long line of flashing rifles told of a rescue party approaching, from whom the flitting figures were fleeing. Three white figures appeared suddenly from behind a tree close to the retreating bolo-men and the lad’s heart gave a great leap of joy as he recognized even in the dim light the stalwart figure of O’Neil. Then as he charged forward with his companions close beside him, Maria’s cry made his heart sink and at the same instant he saw the figure of a man emerge from the house and dart away after the retreating bolo-men. “Where are we needed?” a familiar voice shouted from the company which had now halted at the house, and the anxious lads, after firing their revolvers in vain at the fleeing figure, were shaking Captain Blynn’s hand. “In the trenches, sir,” O’Neil volunteered eagerly. “They are hard pushed, sir.” Captain Blynn gave a hurried order and his company of American soldiers rushed eagerly toward the thick of the firing, followed by O’Neil and his men. All were eager to again try conclusions with the elusive foe. Phil and Sydney followed the anxious Lopez to the house. As they entered the hall they were horrified to find everything in confusion. The furniture was wrecked in many places, and there were blood-stains on floor and wall, showing there had been a terrible struggle. A light was burning dimly in an alcove. In the corner lay the white form of an American sailor mutilated and dead. Further up the stairs they saw the other poor sailor breathing his last. Clearing the body with a bound the lads gazed with sinking heart upon the dead face of Señor Rodriguez, lying on the floor of his bedroom, while all about him was confusion and ruin. “Where is the girl?” Sydney asked in a faint, fearful voice. “Señorita!” Phil called hopelessly. A faint sob came to their ears from an inner room. Rushing in they found the girl on the floor, her hands and feet securely bound. About her mouth a gag had been placed, but it had fallen, leaving the mouth free. They quickly released her and placed her tenderly on the bed.