“That” was the American flag floating above the door of the consulate. Both Dreadnought Boys came to “attention,” clicked their heels together and saluted. Then they hastened forward. But as they were entering the portal, they received a sudden check.
Lieutenant Timmons was just hurrying out. The Dreadnought Boys almost collided with him.
The officer started as if he had seen a couple of ghosts. In truth, the boys’ appearance was startling. Half ragged, powder-stained and bleeding from some minor cuts, they looked as if they had been in a desperate engagement, as, indeed, we know they had.
“Great heavens! where did you come from?” exclaimed the officer, as the Dreadnought Boys drew themselves up and saluted.
“From the Hill of the Ten Saints, sir!” exclaimed Ned, with a twinkle in his eye.
“What, where that brave stand against the enemy was made? Are you the two Americans whom every one is talking about? Great Heavens! come inside at once——”
From the officer’s tone there was evidently something more than praise coming to them. Nobody realized better than Ned that their rash acts on the hill might result seriously. Of one thing he was glad. They had not worn the United States uniform when they played their part in the government army.
As, with these mingled emotions, they turned to follow their officer, a sudden clatter resounded up the street, and two horsemen appeared. They were Midshipman Stark and Stanley.
Lieutenant Timmons gave a half-humorous groan as he saw them.
“Thank Heaven, you are alive!” he exclaimed, “but how on earth am I going to explain all this?”