lists faced about and
dashed at us. The shock was tremendous: men and horses were bowled
over like ninepins; great gaps appeared in the ranks; men went down and
were trampled under foot in the furious fray; there was a ring of steel
as sabre clashed with sabre, and the defiant shouts of the combatants
mingled with the groans of the wounded.

Reeling and panting, I found myself on the other side of the press.
Plaza was there, too, with a dozen of his men. Alzura broke through
smiling in spite of a nasty cut across the face, and was followed by
many more. Then above the din General Miller's voice was heard, and we
flushed with pride.

"Bravo, my boys!" he cried; "I'm proud of you! All the army will sing
your praises presently."

Freed from the Royalists, his men had got out of the swamp, and now
came to join us. The few Colombians who had cut their way through in
the first attack galloped back, and inspirited by General Miller's
stern "Hurrah!" we once more flung ourselves on the foe. It was steel
to steel now, and the Spaniards stood their ground well till they saw
their comrades retreating from the defile. Then, with the exception of
a devoted few who stayed in a grim ring around the standard-bearer,
they turned to flee.

"The flag!" cried the general; "have at the flag!" And like a torrent
in flood, we swept down on the little band.

"Rally to the flag!" cried a voice I knew well, and the next instant I
was crossing swords with Santiago Mariano. I do not care much to dwell
on this part of the fight. These Royalists were the pick of their
squadron, and it seemed as if each man would die where he fought rather
than surrender the colours. Three or four times the flag disappeared,
but came up again the next instant, and presently I saw it borne aloft
by Santiago, who had been forced away from me in the fierce turmoil.
Hardly a dozen men remained with him now, and we were all round him.

"Surrender!" cried the general. "It is a pity to kill so brave a man!"

Santiago laughed lightly, dug the spurs deep into his horse's sides,
cleared a passage with his sabre, and wheeling his horse by the
pressure of his knees, bounded away, crying defiantly,--

"Rally to the flag! Viva el Rey!"

A young Colombian officer levelled his pistol; but Miller struck it up,
saying,--

"The odds are heavy enough now. If you want the flag, get it with your
sword."

The youngster's face flushed, but he kept his temper, and