away by the Mexican balls, leaving the guns alone. Led by Corporal Finerty, out rushed a squad of the Fourth, reloaded one of the guns and discharged it again and again.
The men plastered within the angle of the wall were firing with their muskets whenever they had the chance. Old Sergeant Mulligan was right out in the open, lying behind a large cactus with broad spongy lobes, and aiming and shooting and loading and aiming once more. He did not seem to know that the Mexican bullets were riddling the cactus lobes as if they were paper.
Amidst the hurly-burly orders came to leave the cover of the wall.
"Up, men! Battalion, by the left flank, left face, double time—march!"
That took them to the road again.
"Battalion, forward! Through that gate, men! Break it down! Hurrah!"
"Huzzah! Huzzah!"
Another great cheer had arisen. The Wright and Cadwalader column had won the trenches connecting mill and Casa-Mata; the Mexicans were pouring out, as before—their own cannon were being turned upon them. Now was the time for seizing the mill at one end and the Casa-Mata at the other.
"Huzzah! Inside wid yez!" Sergeant Mulligan bawled, his face red and streaming dirty sweat.
Fast work was made with the gate. Battered by musket stocks and rammed by flying wedges of human bodies it crashed apart. Through the opening and over the walls on either hand the Fourth Infantry surged inside.
