Now it was a race between the boats, to see which should land its men first. The sailors were straining at the oars; the figures of the soldiers――their bristling muskets, their cross-belts and cartridge boxes, their haversacks――were clear; their officers might be picked out, and also the naval officers, one in the stern of each boat, urging the rowers. The gig beat. One hundred yards from the beach it grounded. It scarcely had stopped when a fine, tall officer leaped overboard into the water waist deep; with his sword drawn and waved and pointed he surged for the shore. He wore a uniform frock coat, with a double row of buttons down the front and with large gold epaulets on the shoulders. Upon his head was a cocked hat; and as he gained the shallows the gold braid of his trousers seams showed between boots and skirts. He was of high rank, then; perhaps a general――perhaps the general of the whole army! And his face had dark side-whiskers. Close behind him there hurried a soldier with the flag. All the men, mainly officers, his staff, had leaped overboard; and from the other boats, fast and faster, the men were leaping, and surging in, and in, holding their muskets and cartridge boxes high, and cheering. “Boom!” A cannon shot! Smoke floated from the bastion fort of Santiago, in the nearest corner of the city walls, three miles up the shore; but the ball must have fallen short. “Boom!” A great gun in San Juan castle, three miles and a half, had tried. By the spurt of sand this ball also was short. “We’d better get out of here,” old Manuel rapped. “To the city! Quick! The Americans are surely landing. We don’t want to have our ears cut off; and we don’t want to be blown up, either. The guns are beginning; they are playing for the dance.” “Yes; and you come, too, you little gringo,” young Manuel exclaimed, grabbing Jerry by the arm. “We’ll not have you running to those other gringos and telling them tales.” Away scuttled old Manuel and young Manuel, dragging Jerry and shoving him before them while they followed narrow trails amidst the dunes and the thick, thorny brush. Presently they all heard another hearty shout from a thousand and more throats; but it was not for them. Pausing and looking back they saw the whole broad beach blue with the American uniforms; flags of blue and gold were fluttering――a detachment of the soldiers had marched to the very top of one high dune and had planted the Stars and Stripes. Already some of the boats were racing out to the ships, for more soldiers. The bands upon the shore were playing “The Star-Spangled Banner” again. “Hurrah!” “Shut up, gringito (little gringo)!” “You will sing another tune if you don’t take care. There!” And Jerry received a third and fourth cuff. “Your soldiers are cowards. They land out of reach of the guns. And now maybe we have lost our burro.” “Why don’t you go back for it, then?” Jerry demanded. “Why don’t your own soldiers march out and stop the soldiers of my country?”