During the next few days there was much activity in the army. It was clear that there was an expedition in preparation. All sorts of rumors were floating about, but it was impossible to verify any of them. Some said that Gomaldo was advancing with a large army; others, that he had surrendered and that the army was about to take peaceable possession of the islands. Meanwhile Sam’s position in the 200th Infantry was most unpleasant. Foster was a popular man in the regiment, and he had set all the officers against him. It was unfortunately a Slewey regiment, and it was too late for Sam to change sides⁠—a thing which he was quite ready to do. He made up his mind never to mention the two admirals again, and regretted that he had named them once too often. He complained to Cleary.

“I’m afraid,” he said, “that there’s no chance of my doing anything. The colonel will see to it that I am out of the way if there’s anything to do. I might as well have stayed at East Point.”

“Brace up, old man! I’ve got an idea,” said Cleary. “I’ll fix you all right. Just you wait till tomorrow or the day after.”

The next day in the afternoon Sam received an order to report at once at the headquarters of General Laughter. He hastened to obey, and was ushered into the presence of that distinguished officer in the palace. It was an impressive sight that met his eyes. The general was believed to weigh some three hundred pounds, but he looked as if he weighed nearer five hundred. He was dressed in a white duck suit with brass buttons, the jacket unbuttoned in front and showing his underclothes. He was suffering a good deal from the heat, and fanning himself incessantly. Several members of his staff were busied talking with visitors or writing at desks, but the chief was doing nothing. He was seated in a superb armchair with his back to a pier-glass.

“Ah! captain,” he said. “I’m glad to see you. Have a whisky and soda? I’ve assigned you to duty on my staff. Report here again tomorrow at ten and have your things moved over to the palace. Major Stroud will show you your quarters, captain!”

Major Stroud advanced and shook hands with Sam. He was every inch a soldier in appearance, but old enough to be a retired field-marshal. The three indulged in whiskies and soda, and Sam took his leave after a brief formal conversation. He found Cleary waiting for him in the street.

“How on earth did you do it?” cried Sam.

“It’s the B.A.C.L.,” said Cleary.

“The what!”

“The Benevolent Assimilation Company, Limited. What do you suppose? With The Daily Lyre thrown in too.”

“Oh! thank you, thank you, my dear, dear friend,” ejaculated Sam, with tears in his eyes. “I was beginning to think that my whole life was a failure, and here I am just in the very best place in the world. I won’t disappoint you, I won’t disappoint you!”

In the few days at the barracks of the 200th Infantry, Sam had learned something of regimental work, and now he applied himself assiduously to the study of the business of the headquarters of a general in command in the field, for the army was practically in the field. At first it all seemed to him to be a maze quite without a plan, and he hoped that in time he would begin to see the outline of a system. But the more he observed the less system he saw. Everything that could be postponed was postponed. Responsibility was shifted from one staff officer to another. No one was held accountable for anything, and general confusion seemed to reign. The place was besieged with contractors and agents, and the staff was nearly worried to death. The general was always very busy⁠—fanning himself⁠—and the days went on.

One morning a fellow member of the staff, a young lieutenant whom he scarcely knew, called Sam aside and asked him for a half-hour’s conference. They went off together into a deserted room, and the lieutenant began the conversation in a whisper.

“See here, Captain,” said he, “we’re looking for a patriotic fellow who cares more for his country than his own reputation. We understand that you’re just the man.”

“I hope so,” said Sam, delighted at the prospect of an opportunity to distinguish himself.

“It’s a rather delicate matter,” continued the lieutenant, “and I must say it’s rather a compliment to you to be selected for the job. The fact is, that Captain Jones is in trouble. He’s about $3,000 short in his accounts.”

“How did that happen?” asked Sam.

“Oh, that’s not the point. I don’t see that it makes any difference. But we’ve got to get him out of the scrape. The honor of the army is at stake. Civilians don’t understand us. They don’t appreciate our standards of honor. And if this thing gets out they’ll charge us with all kinds of things. We’ve got to raise $3,000. That’s all there is of it.”

“Good heavens! how can we?” cried Sam. “I’ve hardly got anything left of my pay, but I can give, say $25, on the next payday.”

“We’re not going to pass the hat around. That would be beneath the dignity of the army. What we want you to do is this⁠—and, indeed, we have settled it that you should do it. You are to go tomorrow afternoon to Banks & Company, the army contractors, and have a confidential talk with Banks. Tell him you must have $3,000 at once. Here’s a letter of introduction to him. He will see that you represent the people that run things here. Tell him that his contracts will probably be preferred to Short & Co.’s, and tell him that for the future we shan’t inspect his things as closely as we have in the past. You needn’t go into particulars. He will understand. It’s an ordinary business matter.”

“I don’t quite like the idea,” said Sam, ruminating. “Why don’t you go yourself?”

“My dear Captain, I’m only a lieutenant. It requires a man of higher rank to do such an important piece of work. You’re a new man on the staff, and we wanted to pay you an honor and give you a chance to show your patriotism. You will be saving the reputation and character of the army.”

“Oh, thank you!” exclaimed Sam. “Are you sure that it’s always done in just this way?”

“Always. It’s an ordinary matter of business arrangement, as I’ve already told you.”

“Then it must be all right, I suppose,” said Sam.

“But it’s not only that. It’s a noble act to protect the character of a brother officer.”

“So it is, so it is,” said Sam. “I’ll do it. I’ll call and see him about it tomorrow afternoon.”

“Hello!” shouted another officer, coming into the room. “Have you seen the orders? There’s to be a conference of brigade and regimental commanders here tonight, and all staff officers are invited to attend. That means business.”

Sam was overjoyed at the news, and the three men hastened to the headquarters’ room to discuss it with their fellow officers.

Sam was present at the conference as a matter of course, and he watched the proceedings with the greatest interest. A map was stretched out on a magnificent gilt table in the middle of the room in which Sam had first seen the general, and most of the officers bent over it studying it. The general sat back in his armchair with his fan and asked everybody’s advice, and no one appeared to have any advice to give.

“The fact is this, gentlemen,” he said at last, “we’ve got to do something, and the question is, what to do. Burton,” said he to his assistant adjutant-general, “show them the plan that we’ve worked out.”

Burton was one of the officers who were poring over the map, and he began to explain a general advance in the direction of the enemy. He pointed out the position which they were now supposed to occupy, some ten miles away.

“We ought to move out our lines tomorrow,” he explained, “within, say, three or four miles of theirs. The regiments will keep the same order that they’re in here at Havilla. We can’t make the final arrangements until we get there. We may stay there a day or two to entrench ourselves, and then move on them at daybreak some day within a week.”

“That’s the plan, gentlemen,” said the general. “What do you think of it?” and he began to question all the general and field officers present beginning with the youngest, and none of them had any suggestion to offer.

“Then it’s understood that we start for this line here tomorrow morning at seven,” said Burton.

They all assented.

“Now, boys, let’s have some whisky,” said the general, and the conference resolved itself into a committee of the whole.

Early in the morning the troops began to move forward. Sam, who acted as aide-de-camp, was sent out from headquarters once or twice to urge the various colonels to make haste, but there seemed to be no special orders as to the details of the movement. The regiments went as best they could and selected their own roads, finally choosing the positions that seemed most desirable to their commanders, who took care not to leave too great an interval between regiments. The men were set to work at once at putting up the tents and making entrenchments. It was some time after midday when the general and his staff finally left the headquarters in the city. Sam came downstairs with Major Stroud to mount his horse, and was surprised to see a landau with two horses drawn up at the door.

“Who’s that for?” he cried.

“For the general,” answered Major Stroud quietly.

“For the general! Why on earth doesn’t he ride a horse?”

“There isn’t a horse in the place that can carry him. He tried one when he first came here. He mounted it on a stepladder, and the beast came down on his knees on the stone pavement and had to be shot. He hasn’t tried it since.”

After waiting on the street for a long time Sam had the privilege of seeing the general emerge from the palace and enter his carriage. He was perspiring and fanning as usual, but carried no whisky and soda. The staff officers, of whom there were a dozen or more, mounted and followed the carriage. Sam rode next to Stroud. There was much confusion in the roads which they traveled⁠—wagons laden with tents and provisions and hospital stores, camp-followers of all descriptions, and some belated soldiers besides. The general, however, had the right of way, and they proceeded with reasonable speed. They passed through native villages, rows of one- and two-story thatched houses on each side, with wooden palisades in front of them, well shaded by low but spreading palms. They passed large sugar refineries, built by the Castalians, and churches and convents. They passed rice-fields, some covered with water and others more or less dry, which sturdy peasants were busy harrowing with buffaloes. On the road they saw many two-wheeled carts drawn by single buffaloes, the man standing in the cart as he drove. At last they came to a halt on rising ground at the edge of a piece of woodland, and Colonel Burton, the adjutant-general, rode up beside the general’s carriage and dismounted, and the two began to study the map again. After a long discussion the procession moved on again and finally stopped at the crest of a ridge, where the general alighted and soon selected a place for his tent. An hour had passed before the tents and baggage arrived, but notwithstanding the delay the tents were pitched and supper ready by sundown, and Sam found himself actually in the field on the eve of a battle. The eve, however, was somewhat prolonged. Several days passed, and Sam was kept pretty busy in riding to the various brigade and regimental headquarters and finding out how things were progressing: what was the state of the trenches, and what news there was from the enemy. Scouting parties were sent out, but their reports were kept secret, and Sam was left in the dark. There was a native village about half a mile to the rear, and the inhabitants were all friendly. Sam stopped there occasionally for a drink of water, and became acquainted with the keeper of the café, who was particularly amicable and fond of conversation. Cleary was on the lookout for accommodations in the neighborhood, and Sam introduced him to this native, Señor Garcia, who provided him with a room. One evening Sam was sitting with Cleary in the café when Garcia, as was his custom, joined them, and they began to talk in the Castalian language.

“We are glad you people are coming to rule our islands,” said Garcia; “that is, those of us who know your history, because we know that you are a great people and love freedom.”

“I am pleased to hear it,” said Sam. “Cleary, I was sure that all the sensible natives would feel that way.”

“You believe in liberty, equality, fraternity?”

“Of course we do,” said Cleary.

“Yes,” said Sam, “if you understand those words properly. Now liberty doesn’t interfere with obedience. Our whole army here is built up on the idea of obedience. We’ve all got liberty, of course, but⁠—”

“Liberty to do what?” asked Garcia innocently.

“Why, liberty to⁠—well, to⁠—yes, liberty to do as we’re ordered,” said Sam.

“Ah! I see,” said Garcia. “And then you have equality.”

“Yes,” said Sam, “in a general way we have. But that doesn’t prevent people from differing in rank. Now there’s the general, he’s my superior, and I’m the superior of the lieutenants, and we’re all superior to the privates. We have regular schools at home to teach us not to misunderstand the kind of equality that we believe in. There’s one at East Point for the army. This gentleman and I were educated there. We weren’t allowed even to look at our superiors. There’s another institution like it for the navy. And then every man-of-war and every army garrison is a sort of college to spread these ideas about rank. A captain of a ship can’t even let his officers dine with him too often. It’s a fine system and it prevents us from making any mistakes about what equality means.”

“And then fraternity?” asked Garcia.

“Oh, that’s just the same,” said Cleary. “At East Point we got a blow in the jaw if we showed the wrong kind of fraternity to our betters.”

“It’s a wonderful system,” said Garcia. “But I have heard some of your people explain liberty, equality, fraternity a little differently.”

“They must have been civilians,” said Sam. “The army and navy represent all that is best in our country, and the people at large do not understand the army and navy. Luckily for you, the islands will be in charge of the army. There won’t be any mistake about the kind of liberty and equality we give you.”

“I am so grateful,” said Garcia, rolling up his eyes.

“Yes, Cleary,” said Sam. “The people at home don’t understand us. Did you see that there’s a bill in Congress to allow men in the ranks, mere noncommissioned officers, to apply for commissions? If they pass it, it will be the end of the army. Just think of a sergeant becoming one of us! Oh, I forgot, you aren’t an officer, but you must know how I feel!”

Cleary expressed his sympathy, and Sam bade him and his host good night. On his way back through a path in the jungle he thought he heard a light step behind him, but when he looked back he could see nothing. When he arrived at the headquarters’ tent he found all the higher officers of the army there, and Stroud whispered to him that they had heard that Gomaldo would take the offensive the next morning, and that consequently a general advance was ordered for daybreak in order that they might forestall him. The general was rather taken by surprise and his final plans were not ready, but it was arranged that at four o’clock each regiment should advance, and that orders containing further details would be sent to them by six o’clock at the latest. Burton remained in the general’s tent to perfect the orders, and Sam went to the tent which he occupied with Major Stroud to enjoy a few hours’ sleep.

“I’m afraid we’re not quite ready,” said Sam.

“No army ever is,” replied Stroud laconically.

“I wish the general were a little livelier and quicker,” said Sam, blushing at his own blasphemy.

“And thinner?” said Stroud, smiling, as he twisted his white mustache and smoothed his imperial. “Oh, he’ll do very well. He’s a good solid point to rally round and fall back on, and then we always know where to find him, for he can’t get away very far if he tries.”

At half-past three in the morning the officers of the staff were called by a native servant and began to make their preparations. They breakfasted as best they could on coffee without sugar or cream, and some stale bread, with an egg apiece, and whisky. Sam felt unaccountably sleepy, and he thought that all the rest looked sleepy too. It was five o’clock before Burton had the orders ready for the various subordinate commanders, telling each of them in which direction to advance. The plan had been mapped out the night before, but the orders had to be copied and corrected. At last he came out and distributed them to Stroud, Sam, and several other officers⁠—two orders to each, yawning painfully as he handed them out.

“I don’t think I slept a wink last night,” he said.

The two commands to which Sam’s orders were directed were stationed on the extreme right of the army. He made a rough tracing of that part of the map and set out at once on a wiry little native pony. For some distance he followed the high road, but then was obliged to turn into a branch road which led through the woods, and which soon became a mere wood-path. Before long he heard firing in front of him, and soon he recognized the sound of whistling bullets above his head. He found himself ducking his head involuntarily, and almost for the first time in his life he was conscious of being afraid. This was a surprise to him, as his thoughts during the night whenever he had been awake had been full of pleasant anticipations.

The path suddenly came out into an open rolling country, and Sam pulled up his horse, dismounted, and hiding behind some underbrush, took a look at the situation. There was a Gatling-gun, worked by a young officer and five men, a few hundred yards to the right at the edge of the woods. Beyond to the front he could see a line of troops firing at the enemy from behind a wall. Of the Cubapinos he could see nothing but the smoke of their guns and muskets here and there. Shells were falling in another part of the field, but nowhere near him. Bullets were flying thick through the air, and he heard them hissing constantly. As he looked he saw one of the Gatling crew fall over, doubled up in a heap. Sam moved along in the wood nearer to this gun, so that he might ask where he could find the brigade commander. As he approached he heard the lieutenant say:

“Damn those sharpshooters. They’ve got our range now. With this damned smokeless powder they can pick us all off. Clark, bring some of that artificial smoke stuff here.”

The soldier obeyed, and in a few moments a dense smoke rose above them, covering the whole neighborhood.

“What a wonderful thing these inventions are!” thought Sam, as he tied his horse to a tree and advanced crouching toward the battery. The lieutenant pointed out to him the position of the brigadier-general, some distance back on the right under cover of the jungle, and told him of a path that would take him there. Sam was not slow to follow his directions, for just then a shell exploded close by. He soon found the general surrounded by his staff on a partially wooded hill, from which, however, they could command the field with their glasses. Bullets were flying about them, and an occasional shell sailed over their heads, but the general seemed perfectly at home. He took the orders, opened them and read them.

“That’s strange,” said he. “Last night I understood that I was to make for that pass between the hills there on the left, and now I’m ordered to take the first turning to the right. I don’t understand it. Do you know anything about it?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, he must have changed his mind. Or else it was a bluff to keep his plans from leaking out. Tell the general that I will carry out his orders at once.”

Sam inquired of the members of the staff where he would be likely to find the 43rd Volunteers, to whose colonel his other orders were directed, but they had no information, except that in the morning that regiment had been stationed farther over on the right. Sam started out again, guiding himself as best he could by a compass which he had in his pocket. He selected the paths which seemed most promising, but the jungle between was impenetrable on horseback. The firing on the extreme right seemed to be farther in the rear, and he made his way in that direction. Again he came out at the edge of the woods, and to his surprise saw a battalion of the enemy at a short distance from him. He turned his horse, stuck his spurs into him, and went back along the path to the rear at a full run, while a shower of bullets fell around him. He still kept on working to the right in the direction of the firing which he heard in front of him. At last in a hollow of the jungle he came upon a Red Cross station, one of those advance temporary relief posts where the wounded who are too much injured to be taken at once to the rear are treated. Twenty or thirty men were lying in a row, some of them on their coats, others on the bare ground. Two surgeons were doing what they could in the line of first aid to the injured, binding up arms and legs, dressing wounds, and trying to stop the flow of blood from arteries. Two soldiers were lifting a wounded man on a stretcher so that he might be carried to the rear, and he was groaning with agony. Every one of the patients was blotched in one place or another with blood, and some of them were lying in pools of the crimson fluid. Sam felt a little sick at his stomach. Two men came in with another stretcher, bringing a wounded man from the front. The man gave a convulsive start as they set him down.

“A bullet’s just hit him in the head,” said one of the men. “I’m glad it wasn’t me.”

One of the doctors looked at the wounded man.

“He’s dead,” he said. “Damn you, what do you mean by bringing dead men here?”

The two bearers took up their load again and dropped it out of sight in the bushes. Sam did not like to interrupt the doctors, who were overtasked, so he dismounted and tried to find a wounded man well enough to answer his questions. One man at the end of the row looked less pale than the rest, and he asked him where he could find the 43d.

“That’s my regiment, sir,” he replied, as a twig, cut off by a bullet, fell on his face. “You’d better lie down here, sir; you’ll be shot if you don’t. A lot of the wounded have been hit here again.”

Sam sat down by his side.

“Our regiment is over that way,” he said, pointing in the direction of the firing. “I don’t know where the colonel is. We haven’t seen him for hours. The lieutenant-colonel is down with fever. I think the major’s in command. You ought to find him at the front. We’ve been falling back, and the firing sounds nearer than it did. I’m afraid the enemy will catch us here.”

Sam did not wait to hear anything further, but, leaving his horse tied to a tree, he ran toward the front. He found many soldiers skulking along the path, and they directed him to the major. He discovered him sitting on the ground behind a stone wall.

“Here, major, are your orders. I understand you’re in command.”

“Not much,” said the major. “The colonel’s in command. You’d better find him.”

“Where is he?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since six o’clock.”

“But this is your regiment, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes. It’s part of it.”

Just then a young captain came running up from the front, and cried out to his major:

“Major, we’re having a hard time of it there. Won’t you come up and take charge? I’m afraid they’ll force us back.”

“No,” said the major, “I won’t. I’m going back there to that last village. It’s a much better place to defend. Besides I’m not feeling well. You fellows can stay here if you like. I shan’t order the regiment back, but I’ll go back and get ready for them there. We ought to have trenches there, you know,” and he got up and walked rapidly off down the road. The captain turned to Sam.

“I beg your pardon, captain,” said he, “but what are we to do? Our officers have given out, and we’re a new regiment and haven’t any experience. Won’t you take command?”

Sam was by no means satisfied in his mind that he would behave much better than the major, but here was an opportunity that he could not afford to lose.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said he. “Let’s see what the orders are.”

He opened the document and saw that it was a direction to keep on to the front until they arrived before the town of San Diego, which they were to assault and capture.

“Show me where your men are,” said Sam. “Who have you got there?”

“We’ve got our own regiment, the 43rd, and six or eight companies of the 72nd⁠—I don’t know where they came from; and then there’s a battery, and perhaps some others.”

They hastened along the road together, urging the stragglers to join them, which many of them did. The way became more and more encumbered with men, and the bullets came thicker. Sam was thoroughly scared. He could feel his legs waver at the knee, and it seemed as if a giant hand had grasped him by the spine. They passed several musicians of the band.

“Start up a tune!” cried Sam. “Play something and follow us.” At the same time he instinctively thrust his hand into his breast pocket and felt for his traveling Lares and Penates, namely, his tin soldier, his photographs of East Point, one of Marian, and her last letter. Meanwhile the band began to play and the bass-drummer wielded his huge drumstick with all his might. Sam began to feel happier, and so did the men about him. One of the musicians suddenly fell, struck dead by a bullet, and just then a shell burst over them and two or three men went down. With one accord the soldiers began to curse and swear in the most frightful manner and to insist on speedy vengeance. Sam was surprised to find himself enjoying the oaths. They just expressed his feelings, and he hurried on to the edge of the woods. In front of them they saw a line of their own men lying on the ground behind stones and logs, shooting at the enemy, whose line could be distinguished hardly more than a third of a mile away.

“They’re nearer than they were,” whispered the captain. “We must push them back or they’ll have us. The men on the firing line are getting scared.”

“We must scare them behind more than the enemy does in front,” said Sam, drawing his revolver. “Here you, sir, get back into your place.”

A man in the ranks, who was beginning to creep back, saw the revolver and dropped back in his position with an oath.

“Forward!” cried Sam, now thoroughly in the spirit of the occasion. “Come up to the front, all of you, and extend our line there to the right. Lie down and take careful aim with every shot.”

The men did as they were told, and Sam took up his position behind the line with the captain, both of them standing in a perfect gale of bullets, while all the rest were lying down.

“Lie down,” said Sam to the captain. “You’ve no business to risk your life like that.”

“How about yours, sir?” said the captain, as he obeyed.

“I’ll take care of myself, if you’ll be good enough to let me,” answered Sam.

The presence of a staff officer gave new courage to the men, and their marksmanship began to have effect on the enemy, who were seen to be gradually falling back. Sam took this opportunity to move his line forward, and he sent a lieutenant to direct the battery to cover his men when they should charge on the enemy’s line. He moved his line forward in this way successively three or four times, and the troops were now thoroughly encouraged, and some of them even asked to be allowed to charge. Sam, however, postponed this final act as long as he could. It was not until he saw the captain whom he had met in the woods mangled and instantly killed by a piece of shell that he became so angry that he could restrain himself no longer. He gave the order to fix bayonets, and with a yell the men rose from their lairs and rushed over the intervening ground to the enemy’s position. The Cubapinos did not wait for them, but turned and ran precipitously. Sam and his men followed them for at least a mile, when they made a stand again.

“They’re in the trenches now that they were in this morning,” explained a lieutenant.

Here the same tactics were renewed, and in another half-hour Sam ordered his men to charge again. This time the enemy waited longer, and many of the attacking party fell, but before they reached the trenches the Cubapinos took flight, and Sam saw his soldiers bayonet the last two or three of them in the back. There were a good many dead in the trenches, all of them shot through the head. It was a proud moment for Sam when he stood on the edge of the trench and planted Old Gory there while the men cheered. A wounded Cubapino lay just before him, and one of the soldiers kicked him in the head and killed him. Sam noticed it, and was a little startled to find that it seemed all right to him.

“I’ve half a mind to kick the next wounded man I see,” he thought. “It must be rather good sport”; but he did not do it.

The rest of the fight was in the nature of a procession. They pursued the flying Cubapinos as fast as they could, but were unable to come up with them. In a native village through which they passed, Sam asked an old man, who had been too weak to get away, how far off San Diego was, and learned that it was five miles away to the left. He could not understand this, but still he kept on in that direction. As they left the village it burst into flames, for the last soldiers had set it on fire. Sam thought of the old man perishing in his hut, and it seemed to him a fine thing and quite natural. On their way they came across other bodies of troops who joined them, and it so happened that no one came forward of superior rank to Sam, and consequently he retained the command. Before they came in sight of San Diego he had quite a brigade under him. He halted them in front of the town and sent out a scouting party. There was no sound of firing now except in the distance. In an hour the scouting party came back and reported that the place had been vacated by the enemy, who for some reason had been seized by a panic. Sam ordered the advance to be resumed, and late in the afternoon found himself in possession of San Diego. He began to take measures at once to fortify the place, when the brigadier-general whom he had seen in the morning marched in with his brigade and took over the command from him, congratulating him on his success, which was already the talk of the army. Sam turned over the command to him with much grace and dignity, and, borrowing a horse, set off for the old headquarters which he had left in the morning, for he learned that, although the enemy were completely defeated and scattered, still the general would not move his headquarters forward to the front till the following day.

The general received him with great cordiality.

“Everything turned out just as I planned it,” he said, “but, Captain, you helped us out at a critical point there on the right. I shall mention you in despatches. You may depend on being promoted and given a good post. You ought to have a regiment at least.”

Sam was taking his supper when Cleary came in, hot and grimy.

“Well, you’re a great fellow,” he said, “to get away from me the way you did this morning. But didn’t I tell you, you were the stuff? Why, you won the battle. Do you know that you turned their left flank?”

“To tell the truth, I didn’t know it,” said Sam.

“Well, you did.”

“But the general planned everything,” said Sam.

“Yes,” said Cleary, “but I’ll tell you more about that. I’m doing some detective work, and I’ll have something to tell you in a day or two. But I wish I’d been with you. I had my kodak all ready. However, they can make up the pictures at home. How’s this for headlines?” and he took some notes from his pocket. “ ‘Great Victory at San Diego. Captain Jinks Turns Defeat into Victory. Hailed as Hero Jinks by the Army. General Laughter’s Plans Carried Out through the Young Hero’s Cooperation.’ What do you think of that? We’ll put the part about the general in small caps, because he’s not quite solid with the trust. I’m not going to write up anybody but you and the Mounted Mustangs; those are my orders.”

“How did the Mustangs make out?” asked Sam. “They were way off on the left, and I haven’t heard anything about them.”

“They did very decently,” said Cleary, “considering they were never under fire before. They kept up pretty well with the regulars, and fortunately they had a regular regiment on each side. They really did well.”

“Did they make any fine cavalry charges?” inquired Sam.

“Cavalry charges! Bless your heart, they didn’t have any horses, and it’s lucky they didn’t. They had their hands full without having to manage any horses!”