“Take ’em with the gun from the aeroplane,” Hike howled to the Lieutenant, who saluted, crawled back to the machine-gun, and tried it. It was loaded.
Hike shut off the motor and volplaned down, directly over the thickest of the howling revolutionists. They fired a storm of bullets up at the Hustle, but Hike paid no attention to the bullets. He let her come down, slowly, and soared just over the heads of the insurrectos, who fled like frightened bronchos, bellowing with fear.
Lieutenant Duros aimed the machine-gun down, from the slowly sailing aeroplane. He let loose a shot a second, while the twelve soldiers fired in one continuous roaring stream. The revolutionists fell by dozens. Over their dead bodies stumbled fleeing wounded men.
Hike snapped on the motor, ascended to get leeway, and soared down again, over another bunch, on whom Lieutenant Duros let loose the machine-gun. He grimly kept her going thus, with the most delicate steering the tetrahedral had ever known; kept her just over the fleeing robbers.
One group made a stand, and Hike saw Captain Welch in the midst of it. “There’s Welch—their leader—capture him—soldiers drop off!” he yelled to Lieutenant Duros, who saluted again, and shouted in rapid Spanish to his men.
They instantly dropped the fifteen feet to the ground, and as they did so Duros swept the group about Welch with the machine-gun. His supporters fell, a dozen men wounded and dying, and Welch himself clapped his hand to his side. Before he could recover, he was surrounded by federal soldiers, and hauled back toward the ranch.
Out from the ranch-yard came Jack Adeler’s men, with Jack at the head, yelling and riding like demons. The Lieutenant swung from his horse, raised Welch, lifted him up and laid him across the saddle. Instantly he mounted, and rode back with the bleeding captive.
Three more circles were made with the tetrahedral. Sharpshooters in it picked out the fleeing insurrecto leaders, letting the privates escape. Lieutenant Duros, still smiling a fixed, hard, busy smile, once more turned the machine-gun loose—on a bunch of picketed horses of the insurrectos. Then he sat down, and held his head in his hands.
Hike brought the Hustle to earth, in front of the east gate.
“It was a glorious fight,” Lieutenant Duros said, still hiding his head, as they landed. Then he lifted his head, and Hike was astounded to see that he looked very sick. “A glorious fight,” he went on, “and it means the end of these robbers—but I am as sorry for every man I have to kill like he was my brother. Santo Cuerpo! Poor devils—they were just led by bad men.” Then the Lieutenant straightened his shoulders, wiped his eyes, and climbed out of the Hustle, to greet Jack Adeler, who came charging down on them, shouting his thanks and admiration to Hike and the Mexican lieutenant.