"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.