"Careful, men. Watch for a red cap, and when you fire, don't miss," panted the lieutenant.
The squad ranged themselves within the doorway and peered; now and then fired. Two Mexican soldiers tumbled asprawl into the corridor. After a few moments there were no answering shots. One of the men—Corporal John Hale—saluted.
"All clear, lieutenant."
"Follow me, then. On, boys."
So they passed through the corridor into the next wing.
By the noises the other troops were ransacking rooms in the same way. The tumult, now loud, now muffled, was filled with American cheers.
The next room contained Mexican soldiers driven to cover. At sight of the entering squad they dropped their guns, even fell upon their knees, holding up their empty hands. "Amigo, amigo—friend, friend!" they cried.
"Disarm these fellows and take them outside, four of you," the lieutenant ordered.
On through a door and another room, and the remainder of the detachment was outside also. The mill yard was a mass of panting blue-coats and of herded Mexican prisoners. The guns of Chapultepec could not fire in with safety. The battle here was over.
Staring about in the north end of the yard Jerry noted a group of red caps upon a roof.
"There are some more, lieutenant."
"Where?"
"On that roof."
"I see."
