The bridgehead's captured guns also were being turned. That was too hot for the Mexicans. Out they, too, boiled, fleeing madly through the fields to the rear.
Duncan's battery and a four-pounder in the bridgehead changed to the church and battered the walls. The Second Division, with Taylor's battery of the First Artillery, was still battering from the other side. A white flag fluttered in the smoke upon the church's flat roof. It vanished—it had been hauled down. Now the Second Division line sprang to its feet and charged. The church was surrounded by double walls—the blue figures mounted the first wall—the church cupola was crumbling under the solid shot—the church was about to be taken—no! The wall was cleared by the Mexican sharp-shooters upon the roof. Yes! The wall filled again, the men vaulted over and down and rushed for the second wall—the sharp-shooters were leaping from the cupola and off the roof—the Mexican cannon had been silenced—there were more white flags—"Cease firing!" pealed the artillery bugles, for the standard of the Third Infantry, blue and gold, had unfurled from the balcony. In a moment the standard of the First Artillery was displayed beside it.
The First Division, jumbled all together, the men cheering and waving and even crying with joy, had paused to watch—had paused for orders, maybe, to assault the church itself. Jerry found himself grabbed by Hannibal—a grimy, excited Hannibal, wild with excitement, like the rest.
"We did it, we did it! Hooray! And you and I aren't hurt."
