inches of his head. The discharge of the weapon was followed by more hasty footsteps and the slamming of a heavy wooden shutter.
"Oh, Ben, are you hit?" The cry came from Larry, and he clutched his brother by the arm.
"No," was the answer. "Run down and summon assistance. Be quick, or the man will get away!"
As Larry departed, leaping down the stairs three steps at a time, Ben stepped back and then hurled his whole weight against the door. It was a frail structure, and went down with a crash, sending the splinters in all directions. Pistol in hand, he leaped into the apartment, only to find it empty of human occupants. But on the floor rested several bundles, all containing uniforms—a portion of the lot stolen from the government storehouse.
The wooden shutter opened out upon a rear addition to the building proper—a sort of kitchen and restaurant combined. The roof sloped greatly, so that the back end was less than eight feet from the ground. As the young major peeped out he was in time to see two men leap from the addition into a narrow yard below. Both wore the uniforms of American regulars, but both were undoubtedly Spaniards.
