and stuck in the mud, and captured them without firing a shot. A half hour later we paraded our prizes in a triumphal procession through the streets of Santa Barbara, and were given a grand welcome by the allies and the townspeople. I had never witnessed such enthusiasm, but it was not long before I found out the cause of it. In our absence everybody had been celebrating the victory with aguardiente, and half of Garcia’s warriors had become so hopelessly drunk that they were lying all over the plaza, and their comrades were dancing and tramping upon them. I found that this orgy had put Laguerre in a fine rage, and I heard him send out the provost guard with orders to throw all the drunken men into the public corral for lost mules. When he learned of this Garcia was equally indignant. The matter ended with Laguerre’s locking up Garcia’s soldiers with our prisoners-of-war in the yard barracks, where they sang and shouted and fought until they were exhausted and went to sleep. There was still much drink left on requisition, but the conquering heroes had taken everything there was to eat, and for some time I wandered around seeking for food before I finally discovered Miller, Von Ritter, and Aiken in the garden of a private house enjoying a most magnificent luncheon. I begged a share on the ground that I had just overcome two helpless brass cannon, and they gave me a noisy welcome, and made a place for me. I was just as happy as I was hungry, and I was delighted to find someone with whom I could discuss the fight. For an hour we sat laughing and drinking, and each talking at the top of his voice and all at the same time. We were as elated as though we had captured the city of London. Of course Aiken had taken no part in the fight, and of course he made light of it, which was just the sort of thing he would do, and he especially poked fun at me and at my charge on the barracks. He called it a “grand-stand play,” and said I was a “gallery fighter.” He said the reason I ran out into the centre of the plaza was because I knew there was a number of women looking out of the windows, and he pretended to believe that when we entered the barracks they were empty, and that I knew they were when I ordered the charge. “It was the coffee they were after,” he declared. “As soon as Macklin smelt the coffee he drew his big gilt sword and cried, ‘Up, my men, inside yon fortress a free breakfast awaits us. Follow your gallant leader!’ and they never stopped following until they reached the kitchen. They’re going to make Macklin a bugler,” he said, “so that after this he can blow his own trumpet without anyone being allowed to interrupt him.”