“You leave me the artillery to look after,” exclaimed the boy excitedly, “and take your infantry round on de Guzman’s flank. That will give me a chance to get this battery in shape.” The officer nodded. He saw and understood Ned’s strategy. It was, in fact, the one chance they had of holding the position. “They’re throwing up trenches!” exclaimed Herc suddenly, pointing down the road. Ned followed the direction Herc indicated, and saw that de Guzman’s men were, indeed, busy in erecting earthworks. “If they get them up they’ll dislodge us from here in half an hour!” shouted the boy. All the time their “sappers” were at work on their trenches, the insurgents kept up a steady fire on the hill. The infantry had departed, on their mission to divert this steady hail, some minutes before. Would they attack the insurgent flank before it was too late and the trenches completed? Herc and Ned worked like demons, driving the men to the guns. But the natives’ courage, never of the strongest quality, was waning fast. Moreover, the Dreadnought Boys knew that occasionally in those countries whole regiments had been known to give up and go over to the enemy if the day was going against them. Suddenly, however, below them a sharp barking of rifles broke out to the left, or to seaward. “Hooray! It’s the infantry!” shouted Ned. Immediately the fire on the guns slackened, while the insurgents turned to face this new attack. The moment had arrived. “Tell them to get to those guns,” he shouted to a native officer. With shouts, threats and execrations the men were finally driven to the machine weapons. The rapid fire that resulted as they manipulated the firing levers seemed to give them new heart. They broke into wild cheers as the concentrated fire of the battery poured into the half completed trenches of the insurgents. “Hooray! Let ’em have it!” yelled Herc, as he saw the insurgents begin to waver. Filled now with foolhardy bravery, the government troops began to leap into the line of the insurgent fire, capering and shouting exultingly. Several lost their lives in this way before the boy could check them. Suddenly there came the sound of hoofs behind them. The boys turned, to face a young officer. “Who is in command of this battery?” he demanded. As nobody answered, Ned assumed the responsibility. “What is it?” he asked. “I have ridden over from the other hill to find out,” explained the officer. “We are driving back the insurgents there, and were threatened with them on this flank when your magnificent fire turned them. Your name, senor?”