In a twinkling Hal was on his feet. The fire of battle was in his blood; the spirit of freedom possessed his soul as his voice rang out full and clear!
“By platoon, battalion charge!”
An answering yell came from Ramirez as that youth too leaped to his feet.
Together they rushed down the hill-side, shouting commands to an imaginary battalion.
Crack! crack! crack! crack! crack!
Without stopping to aim, they fired their repeating rifles through the trees as fast as they could.
“Viva Cuba Libre!” they shouted in unison.
Through the woods came the startled yells of the bathing Spanish soldiers, just out of range of vision.
Reaching the ravine, Hal made for one stack of rifles, Juan for another.
Seizing each a rifle in either hand, they commenced discharging them two at a time in the direction of the creek.