No! It seemed that those who held these two hills which commanded the road and railroad, north and south, could never be driven from them. Yet, little by little, step by step, up the rocky, slippery slopes, struggled the thin brown lines of marines. On through briar and bush; over jagged cliff or bullet-strewn open space; on and ever on. Through prepared traps of barbed wire; cutting, slashing, firing, sweating, swearing, always upward, till finally in one mad, glad, glorious, soul-stirring, blood-thrilling rush, they mounted the earthworks on the hilltop's crest, in spite of rocks, in spite of cannon, in spite of rifle, in spite of machine-gun fire, and there at bayonet's point engaged in hand-to-hand conflict with enraged men and wild Amazonian women who wielded bloody machetes with fanatical frenzy.
With those who shared in the glory of that conquest was Richard Comstock, his breath coming in short, labored gasps; the rifle he held, taken from a fallen comrade far down the slope, still burning hot, and the knife-like blade of the bayonet shining brightly in the early morning sunlight.
And the marines accomplished this supposedly impossible task in less than forty minutes from the beginning of their advance. Is it any wonder that the natives of the countries where the fighters visit and uphold the glory of the stars and stripes, honor and respect them, individually and collectively?
After the pursuit of the fleeing rebels the Federal troops, encouraged by the unbelievable success of their allies, attacked, took and sacked the town of Masaya in true native style, which always involves useless destruction and uncalled-for brutality.
The "handwriting on the wall" was now unmistakable and when later in the day some of the victorious troops and the battery of field guns were entrained and started for Leon, the rebels in that city gave up all hope of ever putting their candidate into office.
Carrying despatches on the first train north went Sergeant Dorlan and his guard, Dick Comstock, and in those despatches was a very complimentary letter to Dick's immediate commanding officer which told of his timely warning and the manner of its accomplishment.
Barrancas and Coyotepe were taken on October fourth, and on the sixth long lines of marines and sailors were seen leaving Camp Pendleton. That the rebels had agreed to surrender and lay down their arms without a fight was very much doubted, and Lieutenant Colonel Long, who had charge of the coming occupation, was going to enter the town in force and take no chances of a possible ambush.
Immediately after reveille the first troops had quietly reënforced the company already on duty at the railroad station. This was done without incident, and then on three sides of the city the forces began their advance. The rebel troops, knowing that their leaders, Generals Rivas and Osorio, had fled, had spent the night in drinking and debauchery. As the main column debauched into the principal street and the excited, inflamed wearers of the red cockades saw the stars and stripes of the United States flaunting in the breeze, they resorted to their usual street fighting tactics.
Street by street the marines advanced. Every inch of the way was disputed and the bullets whizzed and cracked, sang and stung; taking their tally of wounded and dead.
"Dick, me lad, I'd give me old pipe, I would, to be able to be on ahead with the advance instead of here with the colors, much as I love 'em," announced Dorlan as he stood in the shelter of an overhanging roof and watched the windows of a pretentious building on his right.