Luckily a desperate charge by the insurgents obviated the necessity of Ned’s replying at that instant. Led by de Guzman himself, the insurrectos swept forward in a desperate effort to capture the hill by main force. But the guns were too much for them. Half way to the foot of the hill their ranks wavered and broke. The advance turned suddenly into a wild, demoralized rush for safety. But nowhere could they find it. Attacked on the left flank by the infantry, and on the rear by Colonel Lazard’s cavalry, the insurgents were driven back toward the mountains, dozens being killed in the rout. The victory for the government troops was complete and final. Yet, had it not been for the Americans, there might have been another tale to tell. “Let’s get out of this!” exclaimed Ned to Herc, as the ranks of the insurgents broke and fled. “There’s no more work for us here.” “And that dago is eying us as if he’d like to take us prisoners,” remarked Herc, gazing sidewise at the young horseman who had demanded their names. In the confusion they slipped off unobserved, making their way toward the city. On every hand they passed excited people. The news of the complete rout of the insurgents had spread broadcast. The insurrectos had been beaten back on the west, as well as at the Hill of the Ten Saints. The day was saved for the Costavezan government and for the Americans holding concessions under it. “What about the midshipman and Stanley?” asked Herc, as they hurried along toward the town and entered its scattering suburbs. “Mr. Stark said that if we were separated we were to meet at the office of the American consul,” said Ned. “We’ll head for there.” Rapidly the two Dreadnought Boys made their way along through the excited crowds, not one of whom dreamed of the part the two lads had played in what was actually the decisive engagement of the day. For, had de Guzman’s troops gained the hill and captured the guns, they must have swept the city. At last they entered the narrow street on which the consulate stood, and Ned burst into a joyous cry. “Look at that, Herc!” he cried, pointing. “That” was the American flag floating above the door of the consulate. Both Dreadnought Boys came to “attention,” clicked their heels together and saluted. Then they hastened forward. But as they were entering the portal, they received a sudden check. Lieutenant Timmons was just hurrying out. The Dreadnought Boys almost collided with him. The officer started as if he had seen a couple of ghosts. In truth, the boys’ appearance was startling. Half ragged, powder-stained and bleeding from some minor cuts, they looked as if they had been in a desperate engagement, as, indeed, we know they had. “Great heavens! where did you come from?” exclaimed the officer, as the Dreadnought Boys drew themselves up and saluted. “From the Hill of the Ten Saints, sir!” exclaimed Ned, with a twinkle in his eye.