make-believe aspect of the affair did not in any degree diminish. There were no clouds of dust, no heaps of slain, no cheers, no desperate charges, and not even a glimpse of the stars and stripes. Away to our right we could see crowds of spectators on the elevated platform surrounding the Sanctuary of Montserrate; and I remember thinking it was well no admission fee had been charged for the spectacle upon which they gazed, else they would have murmured themselves defrauded.

[Illustration: A Bit of Yauco.]

My own most thrilling moments came about in this way: The platoon of artillery to which I belonged had, as already related, decided that its position directly behind the hotly beset infantry was untenable, and consequently fell back at speed, for some distance. Standing at the head of the first piece, with all my faculties engrossed by the scene before me, I did not hear the order which should have sent me scampering to my seat on the limber-chest, and so suddenly found myself alone, with my comrades mounted and away in full career. A glance about me disclosed the fact that no other living thing was standing up within a radius of five hundred yards. I was a conspicuous mark for the eager slayers in the adjacent underbrush; and I ought, of course, to rejoin my section as quickly as possible. So I ran. It occurred to me that here was my chance to show what I was made of. I would stop running, fill and light my pipe, and stalk in a leisurely manner down the white road, thus winning, perhaps, comment and applause from high places. I say all this occurred to me; but I also happened to recollect the story told of the survivor of Bull Run, who replied to a sneering criticism anent the Federal retreat from that famous field by the sententious rejoinder that "all them as didn't run was there yet,"—and I felt that I could fully appreciate the point. So I continued to sprint as fast as I could, leaving the bubble Reputation for other seekers, or for myself upon some other day and field. I was not afraid, and I was simply doing my duty; but I sometimes think that I may have neglected the flood-tide of opportunity, and I often wonder why, in melodramatic crises, a man's mind is not always able to control his legs.

I was not alone in the disregard of romantic possibilities. Later in the afternoon I saw a wounded private propped up against a fence, and bleeding copiously from a bullet-hole that extended through both cheeks. His eyes were closed, and he was making queer noises in his throat. As I happened to be idle at the instant, I stepped to his side, and inquired compassionately if I could do anything for him. He opened his eyes with a jerk, spat forth a couple of teeth, and replied: "If you'll tell me how the beginning of 'Sweet Marie' goes, I'll give you a piece of my face for a souvenir. I've been trying to get that blame tune straight for the last fifteen minutes, but keep getting off my trolley." And he laughed a ghastly laugh. I stared at him in amazement, and then, seeing that he was not delirious, strode moodily away. What that man ought to have said was, "How goes the fight?" or "A drop of water, for God's sake"; but it is the painful truth that he didn't.

[Illustration: Wooden Dock at Mayaguez. In the Offing can be seen the
German Man-of-war "Geier."]

A striking feature of the engagement was the thoroughly matter-of-fact manner in which both officers and men went about their work. There was no strutting, no posing, no shirking, but an evident intention on the part of all concerned, from General Schwan down, to do whatever had to be done without unnecessary fuss and feathers, promptly and well. I have seen far more excitement displayed on an ordinary drill-ground at home, in the piping times of peace.

A sudden appearance of the flag just after the trumpets had sounded "cease firing" brought moisture to the eyes of many a toughened veteran; but even then, with victory still glowing in our grasp, there was not the ghost of a cheer. We were simply more tired and hungry than usual, and until matters had been straightened out for the night had no time for sentiment. And, when we finally went into camp on the very field where we had just ceased fighting, we found our chief interest centred in hot coffee, crisp hard-tack, and comfortable blankets. We had begun to realize that we might have lain stiffer and starker that night but for the whim of chance, and were silent with the clacking tongue.

* * * * *

Hormigueros, the village which gave its name to this engagement, is a place of about 3,000 inhabitants, whose houses cluster about the base of the mountain crowned by the Sanctuary of Montserrate. This church is visited by an endless stream of pilgrims, and many wild legends are told concerning it.

[Illustration: "Eleventh of August" Street.]

CHAPTER VII

The Occupation of Mayaguez

We enter the city in triumph—An enthusiastic reception—A pretty girl and the star-spangled banner—Other memorable incidents—Our rags and tatters—A description of Mayaguez—We pitch our tents in a swamp—The First Kentucky Volunteers.

As early as half-past eight on the following morning—August 11—our scouts entered the city of Mayaguez, some three or four miles distant from our camp of the night before. About an hour later Captain Macomb marched his troop through the streets, accompanied by the brigade headquarters staff. Many prominent citizens greeted General Schwan at the Casa del Rey, and declared themselves subject to his orders.

At eleven o'clock the entire brigade entered Mayaguez, with the general riding at its head, colors flying, and band playing.

We had been through this triumphal entry business several times before; but I, for one, never grew tired of it. It was for all the world like being in the procession of a great circus. The sidewalks, balconies, windows, and roof-tops were packed with wide-eyed humanity, of all ages and conditions, hues, sizes, and degrees of beauty. At every street corner, and in every square, great crowds of the lower classes rent the air with vivas and bravos, regulating their enthusiasm by the size of the guns that swung past them. It is easy enough for some grades of mankind to cheer with frenzy the appearance of a victor, no matter who he be; and a Chinese host would have been received with just as much acclaim as we were, had they come as conquering heroes. The houses of the aristocrats sent us no demonstration of feeling one way or the other, with a single startling and highly dramatic exception. We had turned from the Calle Mirasol into the Calle Candalaria, and the head of the column had almost reached the Plaza Principal. The band had just crashed into "The Stars and Stripes Forever." Suddenly the crowd on an upper balcony of a stately house to the left was seen to sway violently; and a moment later a beautiful young girl, tears streaming from her eyes, leant far out over the rail, and waved a crudely made Old Glory over the ragged ranks below. For a breath we were struck dumb by this apparition. Then every hat came off; and for the first time that day we split the heavens with a cheer,—lustily and long. The outbreak was infectious, and from every side the clamor swelled and burst till it seemed as if the universe had vaulted into mad tumult at the touch of a girl's hand. Her name was Catalina Palmer, and she has since married an American lieutenant. But that, as Kipling would say, is another story.

[Illustration: The Officers of the Alphonso XIII Regiment of Cazadores, taken a few days before the Fight with the American Troops at Hormigueros.]

At one corner a richly dressed old woman threw handful after handful of small silver coins