until the following morning, were now intrenched on a small hill, protected in front by a dense chaparral. They were utterly worn out, and it was found necessary to reënforce them by men from the Marblehead and other vessels. Several fieldguns had been brought ashore, and although the firing from the Spaniards was heavy, our gallant men held the ground they had first claimed.
"Halt! Who comes there?" came the command, from a thicket, and Walter stopped short, although the words, spoken in true English, filled him with joy.
"Are you an American?" questioned the youth, eagerly.
"I am, and who are you?"
"Walter Russell, cruiser Brooklyn. Oh, but am I not glad to get back among the boys again!"
"From the Brooklyn? What are you doing ashore here?" questioned the marine, a bronzed but evidently a good-natured man of middle age.
"It's a long story. I've been a prisoner twice, and I was afraid I was about done for when the guards up and ran away from the prison and let me and a crowd of Cubans escape. How can I get back to my ship?"
