In an air-line the distance was something over a mile, but at the first scattering volley the rebels halted and fired a volley in return. With a vicious _spang_ a few stray bullets smashed against the reverberating steel tank, but no one was hurt, and the defenders, drunk with valor, began to shoot and yell like mad. The bullets of the rebels, fired at random, struck up dust-jets in every direction, and from the lower part of the town came the shouting of the non-combatant Mexicans as they ran here and there for shelter. But by the trenches, and in the rear of the black tank, the great crowd of onlookers persisted, ducking as each successive bullet hit the tank and shouting encouragement as the defenders emptied their rifles and reloaded with clip after clip. The rifles rattled a continuous volley; spent bullets leaped like locusts across the flat; men ran to and fro, now crouching behind the tank, now stepping boldly into the open; and the defiant shouts of the defenders almost drowned the wails of the women. Except for one thing it was a battle--there was nobody hurt. For the first half-hour the Americans stayed prudently under cover, busying themselves at the suggestion of a few American women in providing a first-aid hospital on the sheltered porch. Then, as no wounded came to fill it and the rebels delayed their charge, one man after another climbed up to the trenches, ostensibly to bring down the injured. As soldiers and bystanders reported no one hit, and the bullets flew harmlessly past, their solicitude turned rapidly to disgust and then to scorn. Strange as it may seem, they were disappointed at the results, and their remarks were derogatory as they commented on the bravery of _pelónes_ and Mexicans in general. From a dread of imminent attack, of charging rebels and retreating defenders, and a fight to the death by the house, they came suddenly to a desire for blood and battle, for dead men and the cries of the wounded; and all fear of the _insurrectos_ left them. "Come away, boys," grunted the burly roadmaster, who up to then had led in the work; "we wasted our time on that hospital--there'll be no wounded. Let's take ourselves back to the house and have a quiet smoke." "Right you are, Ed," agreed the master mechanic, as he turned upon his heel in disgust. "This ain't war--them Mexicans think they're working for a moving-picture show!" "I bet you I can go up on that ridge," announced Hooker, "and clean out the whole bunch with my six-shooter before you could bat your eye." But the superintendent was not so sure. "Never mind, boys," he said. "We're worth a lot of ransom money to those rebels and they won't give up so quick. And look at this now--my miners coming back! Those are the boys that will fight! Wait till Chico and Ramon Mendoza get after them!"