Then facing about for an instant, he added in a lower tone:
"Yell like sixty!"
With a wild shout, the little band rushed forward, firing their revolvers as they advanced in compact line.
This bold dash had the desired effect. The enemy could be heard retreating in disorder before them.
With redoubled clamor the Americans pressed forward, spurred on by the excitement of the chase. The moon at this point emerged from its retirement and showed them the demoralized ranks of the fleeing Spaniards.
But, unfortunately, it also showed to such of the enemy as looked back at their pursuers, what a handful of men had caused such terror and havoc. Clif felt that his "bluff" would now be called.
But the beams of the moon also showed another scene that aroused all the Americans' indignation and fairly made their blood boil with rage.
In spite of the panic the Spaniards had retained hold of their prisoner. But the first sight that Clif saw as the moon shone out clear once more, was one of the Spanish soldiers deliberately placing his revolver against the unfortunate Cuban's head and sent a bullet crashing into his brain.
"Treachery! base treachery!" cried Clif, beside himself with indignation and horror at the scene. "Assassination of a prisoner of war! Boys, shall we allow such a vile deed to go unavenged?"
The others had also seen, and there was no need to ask the question. But the answer came prompt and without a dissenting voice: