Though evidently resolved on keeping their ground they made no noise-- with their knives and _machetes_ only demonstrating in silence! I saw their design. The patrol was passing along one of the principal streets. They knew that the least disturbance would attract it into the Callecito. If silent, but for ten seconds, they would be safe to renew the attack; and I should then be lost--surely sacrificed! What was to be done? Fire into their midst, commence the _fracas_, and, by so doing, summon the patrol to my rescue? Perhaps it would arrive in time to be too late--to take up my mangled corpse, and carry it to the cuartel? I hesitated to tempt the attack. Was there no other way, by which I could give warning to my countrymen? O God! the hoof-trampling seemed gradually growing less distinct! No sound of bit, or spur, stirrup, or steel scabbard. They had passed the end of the Callecito. Ten seconds more, and they would be beyond hearing! Ha! a happy thought! That night--I now remembered it--my own corps--the Rifle Rangers--constituted the street patrol. My first Serjeant would be at its head. Between him and me had long been established a code of signals--independent of those set for the bugler. By the favour of fortune, I had upon my person the means of making them--a common dog-call, that more than once, during the campaign, had stood me in good stead. In another instant its shrill echoes resounded through the street, and were heard half-way across the City of the Angels. If the devil himself had directed the signal, it could not have more effectually paralysed our opponents. They stood speechless--astounded! Only for a short while did they thus remain. Then, as if some wild panic had suddenly seized upon them, both footpads and citizens ran scattering away! In the place they had occupied I could see two score of horses, with the same number of men upon their backs--whose dark green uniforms were joyfully recognised. With a shout I rushed forth to receive them! After an interlude of confused congratulations I turned to give thanks-- far more than thanks--to Francisco Moreno. My gratitude was doomed to disappointment. He who so well deserved it was no longer to be seen. The door, through which I had so fortunately fallen, was closed upon my generous protector! CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE RED HATS. For more than a month after the incidents related, were we of the invading army compelled to endure a semi-seclusion, within _cuartels_ neither very clean nor comfortable. We should have far preferred the _billet_; and there were scores of grand "casas" whose owners richly deserved it. But the thing was out of the question. To have scattered our small force would have been to court the rising we had reason to apprehend. Our division-general had the good sense to perceive this; and, against the grumbling of both officers and men, insisted upon his injunction--to stay within doors--being rigorously observed.