Suddenly word was passed back for silence in the ranks. Then came "Attention!" and "Load carbines!" "Something must be up," whispered Rollo Van Kyp to Mark Gridley, and just then all eyes were directed inquiringly towards Ridge Norris, who was taking a place with his own troop. "The Spaniards are right in front of us," he whispered, and almost instantly the startling news was passed down the line. There was no joking now, nor complaints of the heat, but each man stood with compressed lips, peering into the dense underbrush on either side, and wishing that the suspense was over. Now came the hurried forming of a line of battle. One troop was sent straight to the front, two were deployed to the left, and two more, one of which was that of Ridge and Rollo, were ordered to force their way through the thickets on their right, down into the valley, where they were to make connection with the regulars. While these movements were being executed, and with a suddenness that caused every man's nerves to tingle, a sharp firing began somewhere off in the right, and ran like a flash of powder along the whole line. Blanket-rolls and haversacks had already been flung aside, and the sweating troopers, with their flannel shirts open at the throat and sleeves rolled up to the elbows, bore only their carbines, ammunition, and canteens of water. At first Ridge had only his revolver, but within five minutes he had snatched up the carbine of a man who fell dead at his side, and was as well armed as the rest. For an hour the Riders fought blindly, seeing no enemy, but pouring their own volleys in the direction from which the steady streams of Mauser bullets seemed to come. The smokeless powder used by the Spaniards gave no trace of their location, while the sulphurous cloud hanging over the Americans formed a perfect target for the Spanish fire. Still the dark-blue line was steadily advanced, sometimes by quick rushes, and again by a crawling on hands and knees through the high, hot grass. Always over the heads of the troopers and among them streamed a ceaseless hail of bullets from Mauser rifles and machine-guns. Men fell with each minute, some not to rise again, some only wounded; but the others never paused to note their fate. Those who could must push on and get at the Spaniards. Those who were helpless to advance must, for the present, be left to care for themselves as best they might. At length the ever-advancing line reached the edge of a grassy valley set here and there with clumps of palms. To the left was a stone building, formerly a distillery, now a Spanish fort, and directly in front was an intrenched ridge. To this the Spaniards had been slowly but surely driven, and now they occupied their strongest position.