"What are you doing with the flag?" asks Louise.
"Giving utterance to the old Macedonian cry," he calls back, and up goes old glory again, this time with the union jack down. "Pray that my crew may see the signal," he adds, fervently. And Providence assists his effort, for a puff of wind streams the flag straight out upon the breeze.
Capt. Beals is on the bridge of the Semiramis at this moment, looking toward the shore, and his curiosity is excited.
He sweeps the roof top with one glance through his powerful glance and then issues a command that echoes to the farthest corners of the Semiramis.
A few moments later Van Zandt sees two boats cut shoreward through the blue waters of the bay as fast as muscle can send them.
"Thank heaven!" he exclaims, as his heart bounds within him, and he proceeds to hug Louise in a manner that vastly entertains Capt. Beals, who is still an interested though distant spectator. And if the bluff old sea dog could have made himself heard he would have shouted a warning, for he discerns what Van Zandt cannot see—a ladder placed against the side wall of the consul's house and three men ascending it, while back a short distance, with carbines raised, stand the rest of the scoundrelly horde.
The attack bids fair to be successful, but suddenly rings out the cry of "Santiago!" and the little band of patriots from the Cafe de Almendras dashes upon the scene.
The Spaniards now have all the fighting they can attend to. Van Zandt and Louise watch from the rooftop the progress of the battle royal. The fight is won. No quarter is given, and those of the Spaniards who have the ability to flee are in full retreat, and as they disappear down the beach they shout:
"El Terredo! El Terredo!"
Van Zandt sees a strange transformation in the appearance of the leader of the rescuing party. During a hand-to-hand struggle with one of the troopers his fierce mustachios have been knocked off, and it is a handsome,
