In the distance a train was coming—Mexicans were hanging all over the engine, and on the roofs of the box-cars, the whistle was blowing, guns were firing. "It's the rebels."
"Here, we better get off the street—quick, let's run in the Rio Bravo," said Evelyn, as she grabbed Pearl's hand and started for the hotel.
The few people that had been standing in the street, ran for shelter. Four of the Federal Cavalry who had no chance to be disloyal, decided to make a display of their bravery by wrecking the rebel train, by riding four abreast into the locomotive, therefore making history, for Mexico, as well as being heroes themselves, but never considering that they would not be present to hear of it, they spurred their poor, bony horses on to the tracks, one in command gave the order "Forward"—and down the tracks they rode, the engine meeting them at the crossing of the Sixteenth of September Street.
Men, horses, legs, arms, heads, blood, manure, and guns were scattered and strewn for blocks, the engine whistling, bell ringing, men screaming, groaning, dying, the Federal troops running to meet the rebels, the engine derailed in the middle of the street, the hissing of escaping steam, rebels pouring out of box-cars, running into the fight, screaming "Vive, La Mexico."
Both sides began to run behind buildings, firing from behind, at anyone they saw, whether it be friend or enemy.
"We have to make that river somehow," said Evelyn.
"My God—what do you think has happened to the other girls?" asked Pearl.
"They are probably in as bad a fix as we are," answered Mickey, as a stray bullet shattered the windows of the lobby.
The rebels began to drive the Federals towards the river, amidst much shouting and shooting and excess bravado.
"I'll tell you what we will do," said Evelyn. "As the shooting moves toward the river, we will try to get out of here—I'll take my drawers off and put them on a pole like a flag of truce, and we will try and make it."