The victory for the government troops was complete and final. Yet, had it not been for the Americans, there might have been another tale to tell.
“Let’s get out of this!” exclaimed Ned to Herc, as the ranks of the insurgents broke and fled. “There’s no more work for us here.”
“And that dago is eying us as if he’d like to take us prisoners,” remarked Herc, gazing sidewise at the young horseman who had demanded their names.
In the confusion they slipped off unobserved, making their way toward the city. On every hand they passed excited people. The news of the complete rout of the insurgents had spread broadcast. The insurrectos had been beaten back on the west, as well as at the Hill of the Ten Saints. The day was saved for the Costavezan government and for the Americans holding concessions under it.
“What about the midshipman and Stanley?” asked Herc, as they hurried along toward the town and entered its scattering suburbs.
“Mr. Stark said that if we were separated we were to meet at the office of the American consul,” said Ned. “We’ll head for there.”
Rapidly the two Dreadnought Boys made their way along through the excited crowds, not one of whom dreamed of the part the two lads had played in what was actually the decisive engagement of the day. For, had de Guzman’s troops gained the hill and captured the guns, they must have swept the city.
At last they entered the narrow street on which the consulate stood, and Ned burst into a joyous cry.
“Look at that, Herc!” he cried, pointing.