They did not pause to contemplate the scene. The time for action had come.
"The stars are fighting with us!" exclaimed Clif. "The Spaniards will never know how few we are in this darkness. Now, all together. A rousing cheer and at them!"
At the signal a shout as of a hundred voices startled the unsuspecting Spaniards.
"Fire!" cried Clif and a volley from their revolvers carried consternation into the Spanish ranks.
The shots had told. Groans of the wounded mingled with the hoarse, startled commands of the officers.
A moment later a return volley rang out upon the air, but the bullets flew harmlessly among the trees. The Spaniards in their fright were firing wildly.
The Americans returned the fire and kept it up as rapidly as possible, yelling for all they were worth. This noisy charge had the effect Clif had reckoned upon. The Spaniards were thoroughly frightened and Clif's sharp ear told him that some of the soldiers were already on the run, and that the officers had difficulty in keeping them all from retreating.
Clif knew very well that if the enemy had any idea of how meagre were his forces they would be bolder, and instead of trying to get away would sweep down upon him with overwhelming force. He, however, was too shrewd to give them a chance of finding that out. A bold dash would keep up his "bluff," and now was the time to put it into execution.
Drawing his sword, he started toward them, shouting at the top of his voice:
"Up and at 'em, boys!" he roared. "Charge!"