“Keep a-pumping,” ordered Hal, breathlessly, as he discharged his own piece as fast as he could work the mechanism.
His own wound had been caused undoubtedly by a glancing bullet, but this is the most painful kind of injury. It maddened him, made him utterly reckless.
Five more saddles were quickly emptied By this time the firing was general.
Clack! clack! clack! rang the hoofs. The cavalry, firing at will like their opponents, were now within a few yards of the top of the hill.
The Cubans were overmatched. Hal felt that the last few moments of his life had come.
Yet only one thought actuated him. Before he closed his eyes he would send as many Spaniards as possible to their last account.
Crack! crack! crack! Half of the Spaniards were out of the fight by the time the two forces came face to face at little more than arm’s length.
Bang! A ball from Juan Ramirez’s rifle passed clean through the head of the lieutenant in command, killing him instantly.
“No quarter!” yelled Juan as the six leaped to their feet for hand-to-hand combat.
“On the contrary!” thundered Hal. “Any enemy who throws down his gun must not be harmed!”