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  • 1914
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Dave Darrin gave a brief account of the doings of the night before, though he did not mention the fact that he, himself, was in command of the landing party of rescuers.

“It was a plucky bit of work,” commented the consul.

“Will that fight with Cosetta inflame the Mexican mind?” Dave asked.

“It is likely to have something of that effect upon the Mexicans,” the consul replied, “though Mexico can hardly make any legal objection to the affair, for Cosetta is a notorious bandit, and bandits have no rights. The Mexican government appears to have been unable to rescue the prisoners, so the United States forces had an undoubted right to do so. Do you know anything about this fellow, Cosetta, Mr. Darrin?”

“I never heard of him before yesterday,” Dave confessed.

“He is a troublesome fellow, and rather dangerous. More than once he has extorted large sums of ransom money for prisoners. He has a large following, even here in Vera Cruz, where he maintains his little force of spies and assassins. Whenever a wealthy Mexican hereabouts has had an enemy that he wanted ‘removed,’ he has always been able to accomplish his wish with the aid of this same fellow, Cosetta.”

“Cosetta is in town to-day,” Dave remarked.

“Are you sure of that?”

“I saw him here,” Darrin replied, quietly.

“Then you must have been the officer in command of last night’s landing party.”

“I was.” replied Dave Darrin, shortly.

“Then, Mr. Darrin,” said the Consul, earnestly, “I am going to give you a bit of advice that I hope you won’t disregard. Cosetta may feel deep resentment against you, for you thwarted his plans. Probably, too, you were the cause of laying several of his men low last night. Cosetta won’t forget or forgive you. Whenever you are in time streets of Vera Cruz I would advise you to keep your eyes wide open. Cosetta might detail a couple of his worthless desperadoes to bury their knives in your back. This bandit has done such things before, nor is it at all easy to punish him, for the scoundrel has many surprisingly loyal friends in Vera Cruz. In a more strictly-governed country he would be arrested in the city streets as soon as pointed out, but in Mexico the bandit is likely to be a popular hero, and certainly Cosetta is that in Vera Cruz. If he were wanted here for a crime, there are hundreds of citizens who would gladly hide him in their homes. On any day in the week Cosetta could easily recruit a hundred men for his band. Perhaps he is now in town on that errand.”

“I have an idea that the fellow is dangerous,” Darrin nodded. “Still, here in Vera Cruz, with scores of American sailors usually in sight on the streets, it seems to me hardly likely that Cosetta would instruct his men to attack me. The sailors would interfere. Certainly they would lay hold of the assassin.”

“Ah, but the sailors do not come ashore armed,” the consul warned his visitor. “On the other hand, most of the Mexicans go about to-day with arms concealed about them. A fight between a sailor and a Mexican might, just now, be enough to start a riot.”

Dave listened attentively. He was not in the least alarmed by the possibility of an attack being made upon his person, but he had the natural distaste of a naval officer for being the innocent cause of strained relations between his country and another nation.

When the stenographer brought in the papers that had been dictated to him, the consul looked them through, then signed them.

“Here is a packet of communications for your captain,” said the consul, handing a bulky envelope to Darrin. “One of the communications enclosed, Mr. Darrin, is of so important a nature that you will have an added reason for keeping your weather eye open against any form of trouble that Senor Cosetta might start for you in the streets.”

“At any time and in any place,” Dave smiled, earnestly, “I would take the best possible care of official papers entrusted to me.”

“I am aware of that, Mr. Darrin,” replied the consul smiling. “But the paper in question is one that it would greatly embarrass the United States to have fall into improper hands. That is my only excuse for having cautioned you so particularly.”

Seaman Rogers was waiting at the door. He saluted when Ensign Darrin appeared, then fell in a few paces behind his officer.

A short distance away a carriage stood before the door of a private banker. A woman of perhaps thirty came out through the doorway, carrying a small handbag.

Seeming almost to rise from the ground, so suddenly did he appear, a ragged Mexican bumped violently against the woman.

There was a scream, and in a twinkling the ragged Mexican was in full flight, carrying the handbag as he ran.

“After that rascal, Rogers!” cried Dave Darrin, aghast at the boldness of this daylight robbery.

“Aye, aye, sir, and with a hearty good will!” called back Rogers, as both sailors started in full chase.

CHAPTER XIV

A “FIND” OF A BAD KIND

In the nature of timings it could not be a long chase, for Ensign Dave Darrin was a swift runner, of many years’ training.

Rogers, slim and lithe, was also an excellent runner.

Less than a block’s distance, and Darrin had gripped the fleeing Mexican by the collar.

His left hand reached for the bag, and in a moment Dave had it in his custody. Not a man of the Vera Cruz police force was in sight, to whom to turn the wretch over, so Darrin flung the fellow from him.

That the handbag had not been opened Darrin was sure, for he had kept his eye upon it through the chase.

Going to the ground in a heap, the Mexican thief was upon his feet instantly. A knife glittered in his right hand as he rushed at the young ensign.

But Seaman Rogers was too quick for the fellow. One of his feet shot up, the kick landing on the Mexican’s wrist. That kick broke the fellow’s wrist and sent the knife spinning through the air.

“We must go back to the woman from whom this was taken,” Dave declared, and he and Rogers faced about, walking briskly back to the carriage.

The woman was completely unnerved, and trembling with fright. Her coachman stood beside her, and already a crowd of a dozen curious natives had gathered.

“Is this your property, madam?” Dave Darrin inquired, holding up the bag.

“Yes, it is!” she cried, in excellent English. “Oh, thank you! Thank you!”

Hastily she opened the bag, disclosing a thick roll of bills.

“It is all I have in the world,” she murmured, her eyes now filling with tears.

“It looks to me like a whole lot and then plenty more,” uttered Seaman Rogers under his breath. “Whee! There must be a fortune there.”

“I am afraid you will not be safe in the streets of Vera Cruz with so much money in your possession,” Dave assured her gravely.

“I am going only as far as the docks,” the woman answered. “If I may have escort that far—–“

“You shall,” Dave offered.

Another score of natives had hastened to the spot, and were looking on curiously with sullen, lowering faces. Darrin began to fear that the plot to rob this woman of her money was a well planned one, with many thieves interested in it.

Through the crack of a slightly opened doorway the face of Cosetta, the bandit, appeared, his evil eyes glittering strangely.

Dave looked up swiftly, his eyes turned straight on those of the bandit.

“It’s a plot, sure enough!” gasped the young ensign to himself. “We shall be attacked, and the crowd is too big for us to handle”

He was not afraid for himself, and he knew well that Seaman Rogers was “aching” for a chance to turn his hard fists loose on this rascally lot of Mexicans. But a rush would probably secure the bag of money for the bandits, and the woman herself might be roughly handled, It was a ticklish situation.

“You are from an American warship, are you not?” inquired the woman.

“From the _Long Island_, madam,” the young officer informed her.

“I am an American citizen, too,” she claimed.

“No matter to what nationality you belonged, we would protect you to the best of our ability,” Darrin added, raising his cap.

Whump! whump! whump! whump! It was the sound of steadily marching feet. Then around the corner came a boatswain’s mate and eight keep even a crowd of rascals in order men from one of the American warships. It was a shore duty party returning to a ship!

“Boatswain’s mate!” Dave shouted. “Here!”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

On the double quick came the shore duty party. Dave Darrin found himself surrounded by blue jackets.

“This lady is very nervous, and with good reason,” Dave explained to the boatswain’s mate. “She just had a handbag of money snatched from her by a thief. The bag has been returned, and now she wishes our escort to the dock, that she may not be attacked again. She is on her way to board a ship that will take her back to the United States. Boatswain’s mate, I wish you would ride in the carriage at her side, while the rest of us walk on the sidewalk close to the carriage.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” responded the mate, saluting, then turning and lifting his cap gracefully to the woman. He helped her into the carriage, then took his seat beside her.

Dave and the nine seamen remained on the sidewalk, but kept close to the carriage as the horses moved along at a walk. Darrin had no further fear that another attempt would be made to seize the money by force. Eleven men from the American Navy are guard enough to keep even a crowd of rascals in order.

“Since Cosetta was looking on from the doorway, that must have been one of his jobs, engineered by him, and carried out by his own men,” Dave told himself, swiftly. “Most of the men in the crowd must have been his own men, too, posted to take the money again, under pretense that a fight with sailors had started. So I’ve been the means of blocking another profitable enterprise for that fellow, Cosetta. By and by the scoundrel will feel a deep liking for me!”

The first thief, he whose wrist Seaman Rogers had broken, had promptly vanished. Unmolested, the blue-jackets escorted the carriage out on to a dock next to the one at which the launch from the “_Long Island_” lay.

Dave himself assisted the woman to alight from her carriage on the dock, at the end of which lay an American steamship.

After she had thanked the young officer earnestly, Darrin, cap in hand, remarked:

“I am afraid I shall have to trouble you, madam, for your name. I shall have to turn in a report on this occurrence on my return to my ship.”

“I am Mrs. Alice Black,” replied the woman. “My home is in Elberon, Ohio, and I shall probably go there soon after I reach New York. This steamship does not sail immediately, but my money will be safe on board with the purser.”

Darrin gave his own name.

“You have done me the greatest service possible, Mr. Darrin, for you have saved me from utter poverty.”

“Then I am very glad indeed,” Dave assured her, and promptly took his leave.

Before going off the dock Darrin secured the name of the boatswain’s mate, also, for inclusion in his report.

Then, with Rogers, he returned to the launch and was speedily back on his own ship.

The packet of papers entrusted to him by the consul were at once handed over to Captain Gales.

The launch was left fast to a swinging boom, and soon after was employed to take ashore Lieutenant Cantor, who had received shore leave for a few hours.

For the first time in several days, Dave and Dan had time to chat together that afternoon. That was after Darrin had turned in a brief report on the assistance rendered an American woman ashore.

“Cantor seems to have let up on you, apart from being as grouchy as he knows how to be,” Danny Grin observed.

“That is because there is nothing he can really do to me,” Dave answered, with a smile.

“Just the same,” urged Dan, “I would advise you at all times to keep your weather eye turned toward that chap.”

“He really isn’t worth the trouble,” Dave yawned, behind his hand. “And, fortunately, I shall not always be compelled to serve under him. Officers are frequently transferred, you know.”

“If Cantor found the chance, you might last only long enough to be transferred back to civil life,” Dan warned him. “Dave, I wish you would really be more on your guard against the only enemy, so far as I know, that you have.”

“I’m not interested in Cantor,” retorted Dave. “It would do me a heap more good to know what reply General Huerta will finally make to the American demand for satisfaction over the Tampico incident.”

“Huerta won’t give in,” Dan predicted. “If he did, he would he killed by his own Mexican rabble.”

“If Huerta resists, then he’ll have to fight,” Dave exclaimed, warmly.

“And if he fights most of the Mexicans will probably stand by him,” Dalzell contended. His only hope of saving his own skin lies in provoking Uncle Sam into sending a spanking expedition. At the worst, Huerta, if badly beaten by our troops, can surrender to our commander, and then he’ll have a chance to get out of Mexico alive. If Huerta gave in to us, he would have all the Mexican people against him, and he’d only fall into the hands of the rebels, who would take huge delight in killing him offhand. It’s a queer condition, isn’t it, when Huerta’s only hope of coming out alive hangs on his making war against a power like the United States.”

“Open for callers?” inquired Lieutenant Trent’s voice, outside Dan’s door.

“Come in, by all means,” called Ensign Dalzell.

Lieutenant Trent entered, looking as though he were well satisfied with himself on this warm April day in the tropics.

“You look unusually jovial,” Dan remarked.

“And why shouldn’t I?” Trent asked. “For years the Navy has been working out every imaginable problem of attack and defense. Now, we shall have a chance to apply some of our knowledge.”

“In fighting the Mexican Navy?” laughed Dave.

“Hardly that,” grinned the older officer. “But at least we shall have landing-party practice, and in the face of real bullets.”

“If Huerta doesn’t back down,” Dave suggested.

“He won’t,” Danny Grin insisted. “He can’t—doesn’t dare.”

“Do you realize what two of our greatest problems are to-day?” asked Lieutenant Trent.

“Attack on battleships by submarines and airships?” Dave inquired, quietly.

“Yes,” Trent nodded.

“Huerta hasn’t any submarines,” Dan offered.

“We haven’t heard of any,” Trent replied, “Yet how can we be sure that he hasn’t any submarine craft?”

“He has an airship or two, though, I believe,” Dave went on.

“He is believed to have two in the hands of the Mexican Federal Army,” Lieutenant Trent continued. “I have just heard that, if we send a landing party ashore on a hostile errand, on each warship an officer and a squad of men will be stationed by a searchlight all through the dark hours. That searchlight will keep the skies lighted in the effort to discover an airship.”

“And we ought to be able to bring it down with a six-pounder shell,” Danny Grin declared, promptly.

“There is a limit to the range of a six-pounder, or any other gun, especially when firing at high elevation,” Trent retorted. “An airship can reach a height above the range of any gun that can be trained on the sky. For instance, we can’t fire a shell that will go three miles up into the air, yet that is a very ordinary height at which to run a biplane. Have you heard that, a year or more ago, an English aviator flew over warships at a height greater than the gunners below could possibly have reached? And did you know that the aviator succeeded in dropping oranges down the funnels of English warships? Suppose those oranges had been bombs?”

“The warship would have been sunk,” Darrin answered.

“Huerta’s bird men might be able to give us a surprise like that,” Trent suggested. “That may prove to be one of the new problems that we shall have to work out.”

“Oh, I’ve worked that out already,” yawned Danny Grin. “All we have to do is to equip our funnels with heavy iron caps that will not interfere with the draft of the furnaces, but will keep any oranges—bombs, I mean—from dropping down the funnels.”

“All right then,” added Lieutenant Trent. “We will consider Dalzell has solved the problem of keeping bombs out of our funnels. What is Dalzell going to do about contact bombs that might be dropped on deck or superstructure of a battleship?”

“All I can see for that,” grinned Dan, “is to call loudly for the police.”

“One biplane might succeed in sinking all the warships gathered at Vera Cruz,” Trent continued.

“Was that the thought that made you look so happy when you came in here?” Dan asked, reproachfully. “The thought that you could scare two poor little ensigns so badly that they wouldn’t be able to sleep to-night?”

“That was far from my plan,” laughed Trent. “What I am really happy about is that, the way affairs are shaping, we shall soon be studying real war problems instead of theoretical ones.”

“The question of uniform is bothering me more,” Dave responded. “Do you realize, Trent, that we have only blue uniforms and white ones on board? If we land, to capture Vera Cruz, are our men to be tortured in heavy, hot, blue uniforms here in the tropics? Or are we to wear these white clothes and make ourselves the most perfect marks for the enemy’s sharpshooters?”

“You should have more confidence in the men forward,” half jeered the lieutenant. “Our jackies are taking care of that problem already. They are soaking nails and scrap iron in water, and dyeing their white uniforms yellow with iron rust.”

“Say, that is an idea!” exclaimed Dan, sitting bolt upright. “I’m going to do that very thing to-night. I have one white uniform that isn’t in very good shape.”

“I suppose you fellows have heard the word?” inquired Lieutenant Holton, looking in.

“Not war?” asked Trent.

“No,” uttered Holton, disgustedly. “Worse than that. Shore leave has been stopped for officers and men alike. And I was counting on a pleasant evening ashore to-night!”

“It won’t bother me any,” Dave announced. “I’d rather stay on board and sleep against the stirring times, when we won’t be able to get sleep enough.”

“What’s the idea, anyway, in stopping shore leave?” asked Trent. “Is the admiral afraid that we’ll start a row on shore?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Lieutenant Holton. “I only wish that I had got ashore before the order was handed out.”

At that very moment Lieutenant Cantor, who had returned to ship, and had just heard the order, was standing before Captain Gales in the latter’s office.

“But, sir,” stammered the young officer, “It is absolutely necessary that I go ashore again to-morrow. It is vital to me, sir.”

“I am sorry, Cantor,” said Captain Gales, “but the admiral’s orders leave me no discretion in the matter.”

Captain Gales, as he spoke, turned his back in order to reach for a report book behind hum.

Ten minutes later Commander Bainbridge was summoned in hot haste to the Captain’s office.

“Bainbridge,” announced Captain Gales, his face stern and set, “at three o’clock a bulky envelope lay on my desk. That envelope contained the full plan of the Navy landing in Vera Cruz, in case such landing becomes necessary. All that we are to accomplish, and even the duties of the different officers and detachments from this fleet were stated in that letter. Not later than within the last half-hour that envelope has disappeared!”

Instantly Commander Bainbridge’s face became grave indeed.

“Have you been out of the room, sir?” asked Bainbridge.

“Only once, and then, so the marine orderly at the door informs me, no one entered here.”

“This is serious!” cried the executive officer.”

“Serious?” repeated Captain Gales in a harsh tone. “I should say it was.”

“Let us search the room thoroughly, sir,” begged the executive officer.

Though no search could have been more thorough, the missing envelope was not found.

“Summon the officers—all of them—to meet me in the ward-room in five minutes!” rasped Captain Gales.

And there every officer of the “_Long Island_” reported immediately. After the doors had been closed Captain Gales announced the loss. Blank faces confronted him on all sides.

“Has any officer any information to offer that can throw the least light on thus matter?” demanded the Old Man, in a husky voice.

There was silence, broken at last by Lieutenant Cantor asking:

“May I make a suggestion, sir?”

“Certainly.”

“How many officers, sir, visited your office after the time you are certain of having seen the missing envelope on your desk?”

“Five,” replied Captain Gales. “Lieutenant-Commander Denton, Lieutenant-Commander Hansen, Lieutenant Holton, Lieutenant Trent and yourself.”

“Were there any enlisted men in your office, sir?”

“None since before the letter came aboard,” replied Captain Gales.

“Then I would beg to suggest, sir,” Lieutenant Cantor continued, “that each of the five officers you have named, myself included, request that their quarters be thoroughly searched. If the missing envelope is not found in their quarters, then I would suggest that the quarters of every other officer on board be searched.”

To this there was a low murmur of approval. The executive officer was instructed to take the chaplain, the surgeon and two other officers beside himself, these five to form the searching committee. In the meantime, the officers were to remain in the ward-room or on the quarterdeck.

Dave, Dan and Trent seated themselves at the mess table. Time dragged by. At last the searching committee, looking grave indeed, returned.

“Is this the envelope, sir?” asked Commander Bainbridge, holding it out.

“It is,” replied Captain Gales, scanning it. “But the envelope has now no contents.”

“We found only the envelope, sir,” replied Commander Bainbridge, while his four helpers looked uncomfortable. “We found the envelope tucked in a berth, under the mattress, in the quarters of an officer of this ship.”

“And who was the officer in whose quarters you found it?” demanded Captain Gales.

“Ensign Darrin, sir!” replied the executive officer.

CHAPTER XV

READY FOR VERA CRUZ

“Ensign Darrin”—and the Old Man’s voice was more impressive than any officer present remembered ever to have heard it before—“what do you know of this matter?”

Though the shock had struck him like an actual blow, Dave Darrin steadied both himself and his voice as he replied:

“I know nothing whatever about it, sir, that is not common knowledge to everyone in this room.”

“Then you did not take this envelope from my room?” demanded Captain Gales.

“I did not, sir.”

“And you did not receive it from any one else?”

“I did not, sir.”

“You have no knowledge of how this envelope came to be in your quarters?”

“I have not the least knowledge in the world, sir.”

Captain Gales debated the matter in his own distressed mind. Dave Darrin stood there, white faced and dignified, his bearing perfect.

He looked, every inch a true-hearted young American naval officer. Yet he was resting under a terrible suspicion.

“You may go, gentlemen,” announced the captain. “I ask you to see to it that no word of this matter leaks out among the men forward. Ensign Darrin, you will report to me at my office just as soon as you think I have had time to reach there before you.”

Several of the officers walked hastily away. Others hung aloof, shaking their heads. Lieutenant Trent led about a dozen men who pressed around Dave Darrin, offering him their hands.

“It would take the strongest kind of proof to make me believe anything wrong in you, Darrin,” declared Trent.

Others in the little group offered similar words of faith and cheer. But Dave broke away from them after expressing his gratitude. His head very erect and his shoulders squared, the young ensign walked to the captain’s office.

“Darrin,” began the Old Man, “if you are as innocent as I want to believe you to be in this matter, then do all in your power to help me clear your name.”

“Very good, sir,” Dave responded. “In the first place, sir, the important letter was in its envelope when I turned over to you the package entrusted to me by the consul.”

“It was,” nodded Captain Gales.

“And I have not since been in your office, sir. You know that of your own knowledge, and from what the marine orderly has been able to inform you, sir?”

“I am satisfied that you were not in thus office after you delivered the packet,” replied the Old Man.

“Then I could not have taken it from your desk, sir.”

“I am well satisfied of that,” assented Captain Gales. “The only untoward circumstance is that the envelope was found in your quarters.”

“Then, sir,” Dave argued, “it is established that I could not have been the principal in the theft that was committed in your office this afternoon. That being so, the only suspicion possibly remaining against me is that I may have been an accomplice.”

“No lawyer could have put that more clearly,” replied Captain Gales.

“Now, sir,” Dave continued, bravely, “if the important letter of instructions, or even if only the envelope had been handed me, is it likely, sir, that I would have hidden it under my mattress, when I might as readily have burned it or dropped it overboard?”

“Any clear-headed man, I admit,” said the Captain, “would have destroyed the useless envelope sooner than have it found in his possession.”

“The only possible use to which the otherwise useless envelope could have been put, sir, was to incriminate me. Would I have saved the envelope and by so doing taken a chance that could only ruin me? Of what service could the letter be to me, sir? I could not take it ashore, sir, for instance, to dispose of it to the Mexican officials, who probably would pay handsomely to get hold of the American naval plans. I have not asked for shore leave, sir. May I ask, sir, how many officers received shore leave, and used it, after I returned to the ship?”

“Only one, Darrin; that was Lieutenant Cantor.”

Dave bit his lips; he had not intended to try to direct suspicion from himself to any other officer.

“So it might seem possible,” mused Captain Gales, aloud, “that Lieutenant Cantor might have obtained the letter and turned over the envelope to you to destroy, Darrin. I am stating, mind you, only a possibility in the way of suspicion.”

“Lieutenant Cantor and I are not on friendly terms,” Dave answered, quickly. Then once more he bit his lip.

But the Old Man regarded him keenly, asking: “What is wrong between Cantor and yourself?”

“I spoke too quickly, sir,” Dave confessed, reddening slightly. “I have no complaint to make against Lieutenant Cantor. The one statement I feel at liberty to make is that an antipathy exists between Lieutenant Cantor and I. I would suggest, further, that Lieutenant Cantor, even had he stolen the letter, could have taken it only after his return on board. So that he had no opportunity to carry it ashore, had he been scoundrel enough to wish to do so.”

Captain Gales leaned back, blankly studying the bulk-head before him. Disturbing thoughts were now running in the Old Man’s mind.

“Cantor was in this room,” mused Captain Gales, “and it was some time afterwards that I missed the envelope. Then, too, Cantor fairly begged for more shore leave, and told me that it was vital to him to be allowed further shore leave. Still, again, in the ward-room it was Cantor who suggested that the officers’ quarters be searched. Can it be that Cantor is the scoundrel? I hate to believe it. But then I hate equally to believe that Darrin could have done such a treasonable thing as to steal a copy of our landing instructions, prepared by the admiral and sent aboard through the consular office, so that the Mexicans ashore would not observe a great deal of communication between our ships.”

After some moments of thought Captain Gales announced:

“Darrin, this thing is one of the most complex puzzles I have ever been called upon to solve. Your conduct and answers have been straightforward, and I am unable to believe that you had any hand in the stealing or handling of that accursed envelope.”

“Thank you, sir!” Dave Darrin cried, in genuine gratitude.

“At dinner in the ward-room to-night I shall have Commander Bainbridge make announcement before all your brother officers of what I have just said,” continued Captain Gales. “You may go now.”

Yet, as he spoke, the captain rose and held out his hand. Dave grasped it, then saluted and turned away.

His bearing, as he went to Dalzell’s quarters, was as proud as ever, though in his mind Dave Darrin knew well enough that he was still under a cloud of suspicion that would never be removed entirely from his good name unless the real culprit should be found and exposed.

“Moreover,” Dave told himself, bitterly, “Cantor, if he is the one who has done this contemptible thing, may yet devise a way clever enough to convict me, or at least to condemn me in the service.”

At dinner, before the first course was served, Commander Bainbridge ordered the ward-room doors closed after the attendants had passed outside. Then he stated that Captain Gales wished it understood that the finding of the telltale envelope under Ensign Darrin’s mattress was the only circumstance against that officer, and that, in the captain’s opinion, it was wholly likely that some one else had placed the envelope there with the intention of arousing suspicion against the officer named. It was further stated that, in time, Captain Gales hopes to reach all the facts in the mystery. The Captain wished it understood, stated the executive officer, that it would have been so stupid on Ensign Darrin’s part to have hidden the envelope where it was found that there was no good reason for believing that Ensign Darrin was guilty of anything worse than having an enemy.

While this statement was being made Dave sat with his gaze riveted to the face of Lieutenant Cantor. The officer looked stolid, but his stolidity had the appearance of being assumed.

There was instant applause from some of the officers. This, being heard by sailors on duty outside, started the rumor that the officers had heard that an immediate landing was to be made in Vera Cruz or at Tampico. Thus, the jackies forward had an exciting evening talking the prospects over.

So Dave was not placed under charges, and the majority of his brother officers on the “_Long Island_” regarded the suspicion against him as being absurd. Yet Darrin knew that suspicion existed in some minds, and felt wretched in consequence.

Meantime, the news reached the fleet, as it reached newspaper readers at home, that General Huerta was becoming daily more stubborn. Then came the news that the Mexican dictator’s refusal had been made final and emphatic.

“The house has passed a resolution justifying the President in employing the military and naval forces of the United States in whatever way he deems best in exacting satisfaction for the insult to the Flag at Tampico,” spread through the ship on the evening of Monday, the 20th of April.

From then on no one in the American fleet doubted that war with Mexico was soon to begin. It was all right, the “_Long Island’s_” officers declared, to talk about a mere peaceful landing, but no doubt existed that the landing of American sailors and marines would mean the firing of the first shots by resisting Mexicans which Would provoke war.

On the morning of the 21st of April the officers assembled in the ward-room as usual.

“Gentlemen,” said Commander Bainbridge, calmly, in a moment when the Filipino mess servants were absent, “the present orders are that the American naval forces land and occupy Vera Cruz this forenoon. Orders for the details have been made and will be announced immediately after breakfast. That is all that I have to say at present.”

That “all” was certainly enough. The blow for the honor of the Stars and Stripes was to be struck this forenoon. Instantly every face was aglow. Each hoped to be in the detail sent ashore. Then one young officer was heard to remark, in an undertone:

“I’ll wager that all I get is a detail to commissary duty, making up the rations to be sent ashore.”

Commander Bainbridge heard and smiled, but made no reply.

Soon after breakfast the work cut out for each officer was announced. Dave Darrin and Dan Dalzell were both gleeful when informed that they were to go ashore in the same detachment of blue-jackets. Lieutenant Trent was to command them.

“David, little giant,” murmured Danny Grin, exultantly, “we appear to be under the right and left wings of that good men known as Fortune.”

“I’m ready for duty wherever I’m put,” Dave answered, seriously. “None the less, I’m delighted that I’m ordered ashore.”

Lieutenant Cantor was greatly disappointed when he found that he was to remain aboard ship. Captain Gales had his own reasons for keeping that young officer away from shore.

Under cover on the “_Long Island_” all was bustle, yet without a trace of confusion. Officers and men had been so thoroughly trained in their duties that now they performed them with clock-like regularity.

It was a busy forenoon, yet no one observing the American fleet from the shore would have discovered any signs of unusual activity.

From the Mexican custom house, from the post-office, the cable station, and from the grim old prison-fortress, San Juan de Ulloa, the Mexican flag flew as usual.

In the streets of Vera Cruz natives and foreigners moved about as usual. Not even the Americans in Vera Cruz, except the consul, knew that this was the morning destined to become a famous date in American history.

At about eleven o’clock boats began to be launched alongside the American men-of-war. Men piled quickly over the sides. In number one launch Lieutenant Trent, Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell and forty seaman, with rifles and two machine guns, put away. Lieutenant-Commander Denton and Lieutenant Timson of the Marine Corps put off in launches numbers two and three with sixty marines and forty bluejackets. From the other warships detachments put off at the same time.

One cutter, occupied by fourteen marines, put off from one of the men-of-war and was rowed ashore at high speed. These men quickly landed at No.1 Dock.

“There they land—they’re unfurling the American Flag!” breathed Dave Darrin in his chum’s ear.

Another cutter landed at another dock; then a launch rushed in alongside. It came the turn of the first launch from the “_Long Island_” to move in to berth at No.1 Dock, and Trent piled his party ashore, the launch immediately afterward being backed out and turned back to the “_Long Island_.”

Within fifteen minutes a thousand marines and sailors had been landed.

“But where is the Mexican resistance?” murmured Danny Grin, impatiently. “Where is the excuse that was to be furnished us for fighting?”

That “excuse” was to come soon enough!

CHAPTER XVI

IN THE THICK OF THE SNIPING

Upon the landing of the first men, the Mexican custom house had been seized.

The seizure of the post-office and the cable station quickly followed.

Lieutenant Trent did not halt on the dock. Forming his men even while moving forward, Trent kept his command moving fast.

Dave was near the head of the little column, on the right flank. Dan was near the rear.

For some distance Trent marched his men, hundreds of curious Mexicans parting to make way for the advance of the little detachment.

Finally Trent halted his men not far from the gray walls of the Castle of San Juan de Ulloa.

“I wonder if our job is to take that fortress?” murmured Dalzell, dryly.

“If that’s our job,” smiled Darrin, “we’ll have fighting enough to suit even your hot young blood. But I don’t believe we’re cut out to take the castle. Look at the transport ‘_Prairie_.’ Her guns are but five hundred yards away, and trained on the fort. If anyone in San Juan opens on us the ‘_Prairie_’ will be able to blow the old fort clean off the map.”

“What can we be waiting for?” asked Dan, fidgeting.

“I’ve an idea that we shall find out soon enough,” Dave replied.

Dalzell glanced appealingly at Lieutenant Trent, who stepped over to say:

“I see you both want to know what we’re to do. My orders are only general, and rather vague. Our work won’t be cut out for us until the Mexican garrison starts something.”

“But will the Mexicans start anything?” Danny wanted to know. “So far they seem as patient as camels about fighting.”

Another landing party, from the “_Florida_,” moved up to position about a block away from Trent’s small command.

“I don’t mind fighting,” sighed Dan, ten minutes later, “but waiting gets on my nerves.”

All the time small detachments of sailors and marines were moving gradually through the lower part of Vera Cruz, moving from one point to another, and always the leading detachments went further from the water front.

At last Trent, receiving his signal from a distance, marched his men up the street, away from the fortress of San Juan de Ulloa.

Only a quarter of a mile did they march, then halted. Fully three hundred Mexicans followed them, and stood looking on curiously.

“I wonder if any one ashore knows the answer to the riddle of what we’re doing,” sighed Danny Grin.

“We’re waiting orders, like real fighting men,” Dave answered, with a smile.

“But there isn’t going to be any fighting!”

“Where did you get that information?” Dave asked.

Noon came; no fighting had been started. By this time nearly every officer and man ashore believed that the Mexican general at Vera Cruz had decided not to offer resistance. If so, he had undoubtedly received his instructions from Mexico City.

More minutes dragged by. At about fifteen minutes past noon, shots rang out ahead.

“The engagement is starting,” Dan exclaimed eagerly to his chum.

“The shots are so few in number, and come so irregularly, that probably only a few Mexican hotheads are shooting,” Dave hinted, quietly. “Troops, going into action, don’t fire in that fashion.”

“I wonder of any of our men are firing back.”

“All I know,” smiled Darrin, “is that we are not doing any shooting.”

Pss-seu! sang a stray bullet over their heads. Only that brief hiss as the deadly leaden messenger sang past.

Pss-chug! That bullet caught Dalzell’s uniform cap, carrying it from his head to a distance some forty feet rearward.

“Whew! That gives some idea of the spitefulness of a bullet, doesn’t it?” muttered Danny Grin, as a seaman ran for the ensign’s cap and returned with it.

“It must be that I didn’t get iron-rust enough on this white uniform,” commented Dalzell, coolly, gazing down at the once white uniform that he had yellowed by a free application of iron rust. “My clothing must still be white enough to attract the attention of a sharpshooter so distant that I don’t know where he is.”

Still Trent held his command in waiting, for no orders had come to move it forward.

“The barracks are over there,” said Dave, pointing. “So far as I have been able to judge, none of the bullets come from that direction.”

Still the desultory firing continued. The occasional shots that rang out showed, however, that the Americans were not firing in force.

“There they go!” called Lieutenant Trent, drawing attention to the nearest barracks. From the parade ground in front, small detachments of Mexicans could be seen running toward different parts of the town.

“Are you going to fire on them?” asked Darrin.

“Not unless the Mexicans fire on us, or I receive orders to fire,” the lieutenant answered. “I don’t want to do anything to disarrange the admiral’s plans for the day, and at present I know no more than you do of what is expected of us.”

Suddenly the air became alive with the hiss of bullets.

“I see the rascals,” cried Dave pointing upward. “They’re on the top of that building ahead.”

Trent saw the sharpshooters, too. Perhaps twenty Mexican infantrymen occupied the roof of a building a few hundred yards ahead. Some were lying flat, showing only their heads at the edge of the roof. Others were kneeling, but all were firing industriously.

“Forward, a few steps at a time,” ordered the lieutenant. “Don’t waste any shots, men, but pot any sharpshooter you can get on that roof, or any men who show themselves on other roofs as we advance.”

“This work is a lot better than getting into boats and trying to take Castle San Juan,” muttered Dalzell, as he drew his sword. All three of the officers now had their blades in their hands, for the swords would be useful if they were obliged to fight at close quarters.

Crack! crack! crack! rang out the rifles of Trent’s detachment. But every shot told. Whenever any one of the three officers saw a man firing too rapidly that seaman was cautioned against wasting cartridges.

One of Trent’s men was already wounded in the left hand, though he still persisted in firing.

At the first street crossing Trent shouted:

“Half of you men go down the street on that side, the rest of you over here. Ensign Dalzell, take command over there. Ensign Darrin, you will command here.”

The street was swiftly emptied of blue-jackets. Hidden from the fire of the sharpshooters ahead, the sailors were out of immediate danger. But both Dan and Dave stationed a couple of good shots at either corner, in the shelter of the buildings and took pot shots at the snipers ahead.

“Darrin, pick out two of your best men, and send them to lie down in the middle of the street, facing that roof-top,” Trent ordered, then shouted the order across the open street to Dalzell.

Thus, with four jackies lying flat in the middle of the street, and offering no very good targets to the roof snipers, and with two men behind each protecting corner, the Mexicans on the roof were subjected to the sharpshooting fire of the eight best shots in Trent’s command.

“Darley, you stand here on the sidewalk, and watch the roof-top across the street,” Dave ordered. “Hemingway, you get over on the other side and keep your eyes on the roof on this side of the street. If you see any one on a rooftop, let him have it as fast as you can fire.”

Dan Dalzell, seeing that manoeuvre from across the street, stationed two roof-watchers similarly on his side.

“We’ll stick to this sharpshooting stunt,” Lieutenant Trent called in Darrin’s ear, over the crackling of the rifles, “until we get a few of the Mexicans ahead. Then we’ll rush their position and try to drive them from it. The only way—–“

That was as far as Lieutenant Trent got, for Dave, making a sudden leap at his superior, seized him by the collar, jerking him backward a few feet and landing him on his back.

“What the—–” sputtered Lieutenant Trent. That was as far as he got, for there was a crash, the sidewalk shook, and then Darrin quickly pulled his superior to his feet.

The report of Hemingway’s rifle was not heard, but a tiny cloud of thin vapor curled from the muzzle of his uplifted weapon.

“I think I got one of the pair, sir!” called the sailor, gleefully. “He threw up his hands and pitched backward out of sight.”

Lieutenant Trent looked at the sidewalk astounded, for, where he had stood hay the broken pieces of a cookstove that had been hurled from the roof two stories above.

“That mass of iron fell right where I was standing,” muttered Trent. “Darrin, I wondered why on earth you should jerk me back and lay me out in that unceremonious fashion. If you hadn’t done it the cookstove would have crushed my bones to powder.”

“It shows the temper of the kind of people we’re fighting,” muttered Darrin, compressing his lips tightly. “We’ll soon have the whole city full trying to wipe us out!”

“We may as well rush that building ahead,” muttered the lieutenant. “I’d rather have my men killed in open fighting than demolished by all the heavy hardware on these two blocks.”

Raising his voice, Trent ordered:

“Cease firing! Load magazines and hold your fire. We’re going to charge!”

From the sailormen a half-suppressed cheer arose. Hand-to-hand fighting was much more to their liking than tedious sharpshooting.

“Keep close to the building on either side of the street!” Lieutenant Trent ordered. “No man is to run in the middle of the road and make an unnecessary target of himself. Ensigns Darrin and Dalzell will run behind their men, to see that no man exposes himself uselessly.”

“Fall in! Ready to charge. In single file—charge!”

Heading the line on Darrin’s side of the street, Trent dashed around the corner, leading his sailormen at a run.

Dalzell’s men rushed into the fray at the same moment, Dave amid Dan, as ordered, bringing up the rear of the two files.

On the instant that the two lines of charging, cheering sailormen came into sight, the Mexicans on the roof-top redoubled their fire. It is difficult, however, to fire with accuracy at men who are running close to the buildings. Either the bullet falls short, or else goes wide of its mark and hits a wall behind the line. So Lieutenant Trent’s men dashed down the street for a short distance, and pausing in the shelter of a building cheered jubilantly.

Now the Mexican soldiers above no longer had the advantage. Whenever one of their number showed his head over the edge of the roof he became a handy target for the jackies below.

Heavy shutters covered the windows on the ground floor of the building. The heavy wooden door was tightly locked.

“Ensign Darrin,” sounded Trent’s voice, “take enough men and batter that door down.”

It took a combined rush to effect that. Several times Dave led his seamen against that barrier. Under repeated assaults it gave way.

“Through the house and to the roof!” shouted Trent. “We’ll wind up the snipers!”

What a yell went up from two score of throats as the sailormen piled after their officers and thronged the stairs!

It was a free-for-all race to the top of the second flight of stairs. Over the skylight opening lay a wooden covering tightly secured in place.

“Come on, my hearties! Smash it!” yelled Trent, heaving his own broad shoulders against the obstruction.

After the skylight cover was smashed the Mexican soldiers would once more have the advantage. Only a man at a time could reach the roof. It ought not to be difficult for the defenders to pick off a Navy man at a time as the Americans sprang up.

At last the covering gave way.

“Pile up, all hands, as rapidly as you can come!” yelled Lieutenant Trent. “Officers first!”

“Officers first!” echoed Dave and Dan in a breath, all the military longing in their hearts leaping to the surface.

Then up they went, into the jaws of massacre!

CHAPTER XVII

MEXICANS BECOME SUDDENLY MEEK

Trent leaped to the roof. With his left arm he warded off a blow aimed at his head with the butt of a rifle.

Then his sword flashed, its point going clean through the body of the Mexican soldier who barred his way.

“Death to the Gringos! Death to the Gringos!” yelled the Mexicans.

But Trent drove back two men with his flashing sword. After him Dave heaped to the roof, his revolver barking fast and true.

Danny Grin followed, and he darted around to the other side of the skylight, turning loose his revolver.

The fire was returned briskly by the enemy, all of whom wore the uniform of the Mexican regular infantry.

In the footsteps of the officers came, swiftly, four stalwart young sailormen, and now the American force had a footing on the roof.

At first none of the Mexicans thought of asking for quarter. One of the infantrymen, retreating before Dalzell’s deftly handled sword, and fighting back with his rifle butt, retreated so close to the edge of the roof that, in another instant, he had fallen to the street below, breaking his neck.

Ere the last dozen Americans had succeeded in reaching the roof the fight was over, for the few Mexicans still able to fight suddenly threw down their rifles, shouting pleadingly:

“_Piedad!_ _piedad!_” (pity).

“Accept all surrenders!” shouted Lieutenant Trent at the top of his voice.

Four quivering, frightened Mexicans accepted this mercy, standing huddled together, their eyes eloquent with fear.

The fight had been a short, but savage one. A glance at the roof’s late defenders showed, including the man lying in the street below, eight dead Mexicans, one of whom was the boyish lieutenant of infantry who had commanded this detachment. Nine more were badly wounded. The four prisoners were the only able-bodied Mexicans left on the roof.

“Pardon, but shall we have time for our prayers?” asked one of the surrendered Mexicans, approaching Lieutenant Trent.

“Time for your prayers?” Trout repeated. “Take all the time you want.”

“But when do you shoot us?” persisted the fellow, humbly.

“Shoot you?” repeated Trent, in amazement, speaking rapidly in the Spanish he had acquired at Annapolis and practiced in many a South American port. Then it dawned upon this American officer that, in the fighting between Mexican regulars and rebels it had been always the custom of the victors to execute the survivors of the vanquished foe.

“My poor fellow,” ejaculated Trent, “we Americans always pride ourselves on our civilization. We don’t shoot prisoners of war. You will be treated humanely, and we shall exchange you with your government.”

“What did that chap say?” Dalzell demanded, in an undertone, as Darrin laughed.

“The Mexican said,” Dave explained, “that he hoped he wouldn’t be exchanged until the war is over.”

“There is a hospital detachment signaling from down the street, sir,” reported a seaman from the edge of the roof.

Trent stepped quickly over to where he could get a view of the hospital party. Then he signaled to the hospital men, four in number, carrying stretchers, and commanded by a petty officer, that they were to advance.

“Any of our men need attention, sir?” asked the petty officer, as he reached the roof.

“Two of our men,” Trent replied. “And nine Mexicans.”

When it came their turn to have their wounds washed and bandaged with sterilized coverings, the Mexicans looked bewildered. Such treatment at the hands of an enemy was beyond their comprehension.

A room below was turned over for hospital use, and there the wounded of both sides were treated.

Still the firing continued heavily throughout the city. Trent, with his field glass constantly to his eyes, picked out the nearest roof-tops from which the Mexicans were firing. Then he assigned sharpshooters to take care of the enemy on these roofs.

“We can do some excellent work from this position,” the lieutenant remarked to his two younger officers.

It was peculiar of this fight that no regular volleys of shots were exchanged. The Mexicans, from roof-tops, from windows and other places of hiding, fired at an American uniform wherever they could see it.

The very style of combat adopted by the enemy made it necessary for the Americans, avoiding needless losses, to fight back in the same sniping way. Slowly, indeed, were these numerous detachments of Mexicans, numbering some eight hundred men in all, driven back.

Boom! boom! boom! The Mexican artillery now started into life, driving its shells toward the invaders.

“The real fight is going to begin now,” uttered Dave, peering eagerly for a first glimpse of the artillery smoke.

“I hope the ships tumble down whole squares of houses!” was Danny Grin’s fervent wish.

“If they start that, we’re in a hot place,” smiled Trent, coolly.

From the harbor came the sound of firing.

“Why, there’s only one of our ships firing!” exclaimed Darrin. “The ‘_Prairie_’ is using some of our guns!”

Presently the heavier detonations died out. So splendidly had the “_Prairie’s_” gunners served their pieces that the Mexican artillerymen had been driven from their positions.

“These Mexicans will have to wait until they get out of range of the Navy’s guns before they can hope to do much with their artillery,” laughed Lieutenant Trent, then turned again to see what his sailormen were doing in the way of “getting” Mexican snipers from other roofs.

Every minute a few bullets, at least, hissed over the roof on which the detachment was posted.

Trent, believing that he was exposing more men than were needed, ordered twenty seamen to the floor below.

By one o’clock the firing died slowly away. Though the Mexicans had made a brave resistance, and had done some damage, they had been so utterly outclassed by better fighting men that they wearied of the unequal struggle.

“But when the enemy get heavy reinforcements from the rear,” Trent predicted, as he stood looking over the city, “they’ll put up a fight here in Vera Cruz that will be worth seeing!”

“I can’t help wondering,” mused Dave Darrin aloud, “what the rest of the day will bring forth.”

“It will be the night that may bring us our real ordeal,” hinted Lieutenant Trent.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN THE HOUSE OF SURPRISES

“Dalzell, I wish you would take four men and find the commanding officer ashore,” requested Lieutenant Trent.

“Report to him our present position, as well as what we have done, and get his instructions.”

Saluting, Dan signed to four sailormen to accompany him. Within an hour he had returned.

“We are going to hold what we have taken of the city, and probably shall push our lines further into the town. It is believed that after dark we shall have trouble with Mexican snipers.”

“We have had some already,” said the lieutenant grimly.

“We believe, sir,” Dan reported, “that, after dark, there will be even more vicious sniping. The Mexicans are in an ugly mood, and will spare no effort to make us miserable for our audacity in landing armed men on their soil.”

“And our orders?”

“You are directed, Lieutenant, to hold this roof until you have silenced all sniping within easy range, and then you are to fall back to the Post-office and report to the senior officer there. In the meantime you will send in a petty officer and sufficient force to accompany any of your wounded men who are badly enough hurt to require a surgeon’s attention.”

The squad that had accompanied Ensign Dalzell was immediately ordered to return with the wounded, after which Trent and his officers gave their whole attention to locating every Mexican sniper on every roof-top within six hundred yards of their position. So well was this done that at least a dozen Mexican sharpshooters were killed within the next hour.

For half an hour after that Trent surveyed every roof-top with his field glass. As no more shots crossed the roof on which the detachment was posted, Lieutenant Trent then concluded that his commission had been executed, and gave the order to return.

The Mexican dead and wounded were left in the building, a notice being posted on the door in order that the sanitary corps men might know where to find them. The four uninjured prisoners were now placed in the center of the detachment, and Trent marched his command back to the post-office. There the prisoners were turned over to the custody of the provost officer.

“Step inside, men, and you’ll find something to eat,” was the welcome news Trent gave his detachment of men.

Darrin and Dalzell were sent to a restaurant near by, where the officers were eating a welcome meal.

“Hadn’t you better go first, sir?” Darrin asked.

“Simply because I am the ranking officer with this detachment?” smiled the lieutenant. “You two are younger, and therefore are probably hungrier than I am.”

Dave was the first to finish his meal in the restaurant, and hurried to relieve Lieutenant Trent of the command of the detachment. Altogether there were now some two hundred men at the post-office station; these were being held in readiness to reinforce the American fighters in any part of the city where they might be needed.

Until after dark the “_Long Island’s_” detachment remained there, enviously watching other detachments that marched briskly away.

As soon as dark had come down, the popping of rifles was almost continuous.

“I wish we had orders to clear the whole town of snipers,” muttered Danny Grin impatiently.

“Undoubtedly that would take more men than we have ashore,” Trent replied. “There would be no sense in occupying the whole city until we have driven out every hostile Mexican ahead of us. We might drive the Mexican soldiers much further, but the trouble is that hundreds of them have joined in the sport of sniping at the hated _Americanos_. If we pushed our way through the town, at once we would then have Mexican firing ahead of us and also at the rear. No fighting men behave well under such circumstances.”

An hour later it became plain that Trent’s detachment had some new work cut out for it, for a commissary officer now directed that the men be marched down the street to receive rations.

“We’re going to have night work all right, then, and perhaps plenty of it,” Darrin declared to his chum. “If we were going to remain here rations wouldn’t be furnished us.”

Trent was inside, personally seeing to matters, when a sentry halted a man in civilian clothes.

“A friend,” replied the man in answer to the challenge.

“Advance and give your name,” persisted the sentry.

“Lieutenant Cantor of the ‘_Long Island_.'”

At hearing that name, from one in civilian dress, Dave stepped forward.

“You’ve been halted by a man from your own ship, sir,” nodded Darrin, on getting close enough to see that the man really was Cantor.

“Hullo,” was Trent’s greeting, as he stepped outside. “On duty, Cantor?”

“Not official duty,” replied the other lieutenant.

“You are authorized to be ashore, of course?” continued Trent, surveying his brother officer, keenly, for, at such a time, it was strange to see a naval officer ashore in anything but uniform. “I have proper authority for being ashore,” Cantor nodded.

“That is all, then,” said Lieutenant Trent. “You may proceed, of course, but you are going to be halted and held up by every sentry who sees you. You would get through the town much more easily in uniform.”

“I suppose so,” nodded Cantor, and passed on.

Close at hand two revolver shots rang out.

“Ensign Darrin,” Trent ordered, “take a man with you and investigate that firing. Locate it, if possible, and if any Mexican attempts to fire again, try to bring him in—–dead!”

“You will come with me,” ordered Dave, turning to Coxswain Riley. That petty officer hastily filling his magazine, followed Darrin, who drew his own revolver.

Hardly had officer and man turned the corner when a pistol flesh came from the top of a house nearly at the next corner.

The bullet did not pass near enough for them to hear it. Plainly the shot had been fired at some one else.

“Keep close to the buildings,” ordered Dave, leading the way toward the sniper. “I don’t want that fellow to see us until we’re right under him and ready to get him.”

Noiselessly they went up the street. It would be impossible for the sniper to see them unless he bent out over the edge of the roof from which he was firing.

While they were advancing another shot was fired from the same roof. Watching the direction of the flash, Darrin was able to guess the direction of the man or men at whom the Mexican was firing.

“Some of our sharpshooters must still be posted on roofs,” Dave whispered over his shoulder to Riley.

“I know one man who won’t be doing much more on a roof, if I can get a sight of him for three seconds,” gruffly answered Riley.

Then they stopped in front of the house in question.

“You slip across to the doorway opposite, and watch for your man,” whispered Darrin. “I’ll remain here and get any one who may attempt to run out of the house after you open fire.”

Slipping across the street, Riley waited.

Scanning the house, from the roof of which the firing had proceeded, his drawn revolver in his hand, Dave made a quick discovery.

“Why, this is the very door from which I saw Cosetta peering out yesterday!” thought the young ensign. “I wonder if this is his home in Vera Cruz. I’ll make a point of reporting this to Trent as soon as we return.”

And then Dave heard a voice just inside the door say, in Spanish:

“You ought to stop that sniper on the roof. He took two shots at me as I came up the street.”

“What infernal work is going on here?” Ensign Dave Darrin asked himself, hoarsely. “I how that voice. I’d know it anywhere. That’s Cantor speaking, and he’s in the house of the enemy!”

CHAPTER XIX

A TRAITOR IN THE SERVICE

Crack! spoke a rifle across the street.

“I got him, sir!” cried the exultant voice of Riley. “But I’ll make sure of him, sir!”

Crack! The Navy rifle spoke once more.

Noiselessly Darrin darted across the street.

On the roof of the house in which Dave had seen the bandit, Cosetta, the previous day, lay a man, his head and shoulders hanging over the edge.

“Speak softly,” cautioned Darrin. “I don’t want those men inside the house to hear you.”

“He fell just like that when I fired the first shot, sir,” Riley whispered. “I sent him the second bullet to make sure that he wasn’t playing ‘possum.”

“And now,” Dave ordered, “run down the street as noiselessly as you can go, and tell Lieutenant Trent that I wish he would come here in person, if possible, with a few men. Ask him, with my compliments to approach as noiselessly as possible, for I expect to make a surprise ‘bag’ here.”

Riley glanced at his officer in swift astonishment, but he saw that Darrin was speaking seriously, so he saluted and departed at a run.

Shortly Riley was back.

“Lieutenant Trent is coming, sir,” whispered the coxswain. “There he is, turning the corner now.”

“Stand before this door, and if you hear anything inside, so much the better,” Darrin murmured, then hastily moved down the street, saluting his superior officer as he met him.

“Riley told you, perhaps, he got the sniper, sir,” Dave began, “but I have something even more astounding to report. I have every reason to believe that Lieutenant Cantor is in that house.”

“A prisoner?” cried Trent, in an undertone.

“I have reason to believe that he isn’t a prisoner,” Dave went on. “The house is the same from which I saw Cosetta peer yesterday, and I have reason to think that Lieutenant Cantor and the bandit are on fairly good terms.”

“Be careful what you say, Darrin,” cautioned Lieutenant Trent. “In effect, you are accusing an officer of the United States Navy of treason!”

“That is the very crime of which I suspect him, sir,” Dave answered, bluntly.

“Are you sure that your personal animosity has no part in that suspicion?”

“No dislike for a brother officer could induce me to charge him falsely,” Dave answered simply.

“I beg your pardon, Darrin!” exclaimed Trent in sincere regret. “I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

“Here is the door, sir,” Dave reported, in a whisper, halting and pointing.

“I heard some one talking in there in low tones,” reported Riley. “I couldn’t make it out, for he was talking in Spanish.”

“I suspect that the voices were those of Lieutenant Cantor and Cosetta,” Dave whispered.

“If they don’t get away, we’ll soon know,” Trent whispered. “Stone and Root, I want you two to head the party that rushes the door. As soon as you get inside don’t stop for anything else, but rush to the rear windows and shoot any one who attempts to escape by the rear fence. Now, men, rush that door!”

So hard and sudden was the assault that the door gave way at the first rush.

Revolver in hand, Dave Darrin was directly behind the two seamen who had been ordered to rush to the rear windows.

Just as the door yielded to the assault an excited voice in Spanish exclaimed:

“This way—quick!”

The two sailors, who had been ordered to do nothing else except guard the rear windows, saw a figure vanish through the cellar doorway. Leaving that individual to others, Stone and Boot dashed into a rear room, throwing up the window.

In the darkness a second man also rushed for the cellar doorway. But Dave Darrin’s extended right hand closed on that party’s collar.

“You’re my prisoner,” Dave hissed, throwing his man backward to the floor.

As several men rushed past them one sailor halted, throwing on the rays of a pocket electric light.

“You, Cantor, and here?” exclaimed Lieutenant Trent, aghast, as he recognized the features of his brother officer. “In mercy’s name—–“

“Let me up,” broke in Cantor, angrily, and Dave released him. “Ensign Darrin, I order you in arrest for attacking your superior officer.”

“You won’t observe that arrest, Darrin,” spoke Trent, coldly. “I’ll be responsible for my order to that effect. Now, then, Cantor, what explanation have you to offer for being in the house of Cosetta, the bandit?”

“I’ll give no explanation here,” blazed Cantor, angrily, as now on his feet, he glared at Trent and Darrin—Dalzell was not there, for just at this instant the bolted cellar door, under his orders, was battered down, and Dan, with several sailormen at his back, darted down the stairs, by the light of a pocket lamp.

The cellar was deserted. There was no sign of the means by which the fugitive had escaped.

“Trent,” said Cantor, with an effort at sternness, “you will not question me, here or now.”

“I’ll question you as much as I see fit, sir,” Lieutenant Trent retorted, crisply. “Lieutenant Cantor, you are caught here under strange circumstances. You will explain, and satisfactorily, or—–“

“Lieutenant Trent,” retorted the other, savagely, “while you and I are officers of the same rating, my commission is older than yours, and I am ranking officer here. I direct you to withdraw your men and to leave this house.”

“And I tell you,” retorted Lieutenant Trent, “that I am on duty here. You have not said that you are here on duty. Therefore I shall not recognize your authority.”

“Trent,” broke in the other savagely, “if you—–“

“I do,” Lieutenant Trent retorted, stiffly. “Just that, in fact. In other words, sir, I place you in arrest! Coxswain Riley, I shall hold you responsible for this prisoner. Take two other men, if you wish, to help you guard him. If Lieutenant Cantor escapes, or attempts to escape, then you have my order to shoot him, if necessary.”

“Darrin,” snarled Cantor, “this is all your doing!”

“Some of it, sir,” Dave admitted, cheerfully. “I heard you and another man talking in here, and I sent for Lieutenant Trent. As it happens, I know this to be the home, or the hanging-out place of Cosetta, and as I heard you talking just inside the door, I reported that fact to Lieutenant Trent.”

“You will find nothing in this house, and I have not been, intentionally, in the house of a bandit, or in the house of any other questionable character,” snarled Cantor, turning his back on Darrin. “And you are making a serious mistake in placing me in arrest.”

“If your companion had been a proper one he would not have run away when American forces burst in here,” Lieutenant Trent returned. “Both on Ensign Darrin’s report, and on my own observation and suspicion, I will take the responsibility of placing you in arrest. I shall report your arrest to the commanding officer on shore, and will be guided by his instructions. You will have opportunity to state your case to him.”

“And he will order my instant release as soon as he hears why I am on shore. Trent, you have made a serious mistake, and you are continuing to make it by keeping me in arrest.”

“Sorry, Cantor; sorry, indeed, if I am doing you an injustice,” Lieutenant Trent answered, with more feeling. “Yet under the circumstances, I cannot read my duty in any other way.”

“You’ll be sorry,” cried Cantor, angrily.

“I don’t know what to make of this, sir,” Danny Grin reported, a much puzzled look showing on his face. “That cellar door was shut and bolted in our faces. We smashed the door instantly, and rushed down the stairs. When we reached the cellar we found it empty; whoever the man was he escaped in some way that is a mystery to me.”

“Have you thought of the probability of a secret passage from the cellar?” inquired Trent.

“Yes, sir, and we’ve sounded the walls, but without any result.”

“I’ll go below with you,” offered Trent. “Ensign Darrin, bear in mind that we are in danger of being surprised here, and would then find ourselves in something of a trap. Take ten men and go into the street, keeping close watch.”

Twenty minutes later Trent came out, followed by his command, with whom marched the fuming Cantor, a prisoner.

“Darrin, there must be a secret passage from the cellar,” Trent told his subordinate, “but we have been unable to find it. We are bringing with us the body of the sniper that Riley shot on the roof.”

Line was formed and the detachment started back, Danny Grin and two sailormen acting as a rear guard against possible attack.

Arrived at the post-office Trent, accompanied by Cantor and the latter’s guards, hurried off in search of the commanding officer of the shore force.

Fifteen minutes later Lieutenant Trent returned.

“I was sustained,” he informed Dave and Dan. “It was tough, but the commanding officer directed me to send Cantor under escort back to the ‘_Long Island_,’ with a brief report stating why that officer was placed in arrest.”

There followed more waiting, during which the sound of individual firing over the city became more frequent. Cantor’s guard returned from the “_Long Island_,” with word that Captain Gales had ordered that officer in arrest in his own quarters.

At last orders for Trent’s detachment arrived.

“We are to push on into the city,” Trent informed his ensigns. “Twenty more ‘_Long Island_’ men will reach us within three minutes. We are to silence snipers, and kill them if we catch them red-handed in firing on our forces. Above all, we are directed to be on the alert for any Americans or other foreigners who may be in need of help. We are likely to have a busy night.”

Then, turning to his men, he added:

“Fall in by twos! Forward, march!”

CHAPTER XX

THE SKIRMISH AT THE DILIGENCIA

Trent saw his reinforcements approaching, and advanced to pick them up and add them to his command.

The column, now a strong one for patrol purposes, turned at right angles at the first corner, and marched on into the city, from the further side of which came the sound of firing.

Every man with the column carried a hundred and fifty rounds of ammunition. A machine gun was trailed along at the rear, in the event that it might be wanted.

Less than half a mile from the start, Lieutenant Trent’s command sighted the American advance line ahead. Some of the seamen and marines in this advanced line occupied rooftops and kept up a variable, crackling fire.

As Trent approached the line, a lieutenant-commander approached him.

“Do you come to reinforce us, Lieutenant?” he inquired.

“No, sir,” Trent answered. “We are to patrol, and to took out for Americans and other foreigners who may be in danger.”

“Then I would caution you, Lieutenant, that this is the outer line. If you get ahead of us, take extreme care that you do nothing to lead us to mistake you for Mexicans.”

“I shall be extremely cautious, sir,” Trent replied, saluting, then marched his command through the line and on up the street.

“Good luck to you,” called several of the sailors in the line. “Bring us back a few Mexicans!”

“We’d like to, all right,” replied Riley, in an undertone.

“Ensign Darrin, take a petty officer and four men and lead a point,” Lieutenant Trent ordered. “I don’t want the ‘glory’ of running a command into an ambush.”

Calling to Riley and four sailormen, Dave led them down the street at the double-quick until he was two hundred yards in advance Then he led his men on at marching speed.

The work at the “point” is always the post of greatest danger with a marching command. This point is small in numbers, and moves well in advance. If the enemy has posted an ambuscade on the line of march it is the point that runs into this danger.

As they marched Dave did not preserve any formation of his men. His detachment strode forward, alert and watchful, their rifles ready for instant use.

Three blocks away a horse stood tethered before a door. Hearing the sound of approaching feet a man looked hurriedly out of the doorway. Then he rushed to the horse and untied it.

“Halt!” Shouted Ensign Darrin, as he saw the man dart from the doorway. “Halt!” he ordered, a second time, as the man seized the horses’s bridle ready to mount.

Quick as a flash the stranger drew a revolver, firing two shots down the street.

“Fire! Get him!” shouted Darrin.

Five rifles spoke, instantly. Just in the act of reaching the saddle the stranger plunged sideways, fell to the roadway, the startled horse galloping off without its rider.

“Don’t run to him,” commanded Dave Darrin. “We’ll reach him soon enough.”

Close at hand it was seen that the man was in the uniform of a Mexican officer. His insignia proved him to be a major.

“Dead,” said Riley. “Two pills reached him, and either would have killed.”

Dave nodded his head in assent, adding:

“Leave him. Our work is to keep the point moving.”

When they had gone a quarter of a mile further, a sound of firing attracted the attention of the American detachment.

“Lieutenant Trent’s compliments, sir,” panted a breathless messenger, saluting, “and you will turn down the next corner, Ensign, and march toward the firing.”

After a few minutes Dave sighted a large building ahead. He did not know the building, then, but learned afterwards that it was the Hotel Diligencia.

Almost as soon as Darrin perceived the building, snipers on its roof espied the Navy men.

Cr-r-rack! The brisk fire that rang out from the roof of the hotel was almost as regular as a volley of shots would have been.

Darrin ordered his men to keep close to the buildings on either side of the street, and to return the fire as rapidly as good shooting permitted.

“Drive ’em from that roof,” was Darrin’s order.

Lieutenant Trent arrived on the double-quick with the rest of the detachment.

“Give it to ’em, hot and heavy!” ordered Trent, and instantly sixty rifles were in action.

Suddenly a window, a some distance down the street from the Americans opened, and a man thrust a rifle out, taking aim. That rifle never barked, for Dave, with a single shot from his revolver, sent the would-be marksman reeling back.

“Watch that window, Riley, and fire if a head appears there,” Dave directed. “There may be others in that room.”

Cat-like in his watchfulness, Riley kept the muzzle of his weapon trained on that window.

“Look out overhead!” called Danny Grin, suddenly.

From the roofs of three houses overlooking the naval detachment fire opened instantly after the warning. Two of the “_Long Island’s_” men dropped, one of them badly wounded.

Then the sailormen returned the fire. Two Mexicans dropped to the street, one shot through the head; the other wounded in the chest. Other Mexicans had been seen to stagger, and were probably hit. Thereafter a dozen seamen constantly watched the roofs close at hand, occasionally “getting” a Mexican.

“I know what I would do, if I had authority,” Darrin muttered to his superior. “I’d send back for dynamite, and, whenever we were fired on from a house I’d bring it down in ruins.”

It was a terrible suggestion, but being fired upon from overhead in a city makes fighting men savage.

Evidently the Mexicans on the hotel roof had been reinforced, for now the fire in that direction broke out heavier than ever.

“Shall I have the machine gun brought up, sir?” Dave hinted.

“Yes,” approved Trent, crisply. “We’ll see what a machine gun can do when brought to bear on a roof.”

So Ensign Darrin ran back to give the order. The gun was brought up instantly, loaded, aimed and fired.

R-r-r-r-rip! Its volleys rang out. A rain of bullets struck at the edge of the hotel roof, driving back the snipers amid yells of pain.

Yet the instant the machine gun ceased its leaden cyclone the snipers were back at work, firing in a way that showed their rage.

“We can keep ’em down with the machine gun,” declared Trent, “But it might take all the ammunition of the fleet to keep it running long enough unless we can make more hits.”

In their recklessness the Mexicans exposed themselves so that four more of them fell before the seamen’s rifles.

“Probably the Mexicans can get reinforcements,” Dalzell muttered. “Though we may hit a few in an hour’s firing, they can replace every man we hit.”

“At least we can give those fellows something to think about between now and daylight,” Dave returned, compressing his lips grimly.

“Grenfel is wounded, sir, and Penniman has just been killed,” reported a petty officer, saluting.

Lieutenant Trent hastened back to confirm the death of Penniman, and also to see if anything could be done for the comfort of the wounded man. He decided to send Grenfel back, two sailormen being detailed for that purpose.

“Look out for snipers,” the officer warned the bearers of the wounded man. “Carry your rifles slung and be ready for instant work. If we hear you firing behind us I’ll send men to help you through.”

Along the street, ahead of the detachment, a man came crawling from the direction of the hotel.

In an instant a dozen sailormen leveled their weapons.

“Hold up there, men!” Darrin called, sharply.

“Don’t shoot at him.”

An instant later snipers on the hotel roof discovered the crawling man, opening fire on him so briskly that the endangered one rose to his feet and came sprinting toward the sailors with both hands uplifted.

“Lower your hands!” shouted Darrin. “They make targets. We won’t fire on you!”

That the man understood English was plain from his instant obedience. With Mexican bullets raining about him, the fugitive came on at headlong speed.

“Here! Stop!” Ensign Darrin ordered, catching the man and swinging him into a doorway. “Keep in there, and you’re safe from the enemy’s fire.”

Swiftly Lieutenant Trent crossed the street to hear the escaped one, whom Darrin was already questioning.

“You’re an American?” asked Dave.

“Yes!” came the answer.

“How did you come to be here?”

“Escaped from the basement of the hotel. I knew it was up to me to get through to you if I could live through the storm of bullets that I knew would be sent after me. My news is of the utmost importance!”

Then, to the astounded American Navy officers the stranger made this blood-stirring announcement: