bawled out:

"Good luck to every one of you!"

Hal Overton had swiftly formed his squad in a single rank, ordering the
soldiers to fix bayonets. Prescott formed his own squad as a second
platoon. As Tom Halstead hastened up he carried a stout cudgel, while
Hank Butts carried the hitching weight that had made him famous.

As the little relief column moved off the dock and in at the foot of the
principal street of Holmesville, the light of burning buildings showed
them a highway on which hundreds of maddened human brutes were moving.

Occasionally, from one of the houses still left untouched by flames, a
shot was fired. So enraged and occupied were the rioters that they did
not perceive the approach of uniformed men.

"Forward, on the double quick!" ordered Lieutenant Hal, snatching his
sword from the scabbard. Just ahead the rioters had turned to pour a
fusillade of fifty shots into a house from which a revolver shot had
been fired.

There was no sense in halting and calling on these maddened rioters to
disperse. Hal saw that quickly. Some in the mob saw the soldiers in time
to raise a shout, but few of the other rioters heard it.

"Ready to charge! _Charge!_" shouted Lieutenant Hal Overton.

The front rank of soldiers hit the edge of the mob with cold steel. That
rush and impact seemed to serve only to madden the rioters, and in an
instant there was wild hand-to-hand combat.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

Then a score of things happened all at once.

Added to the soldiers' bayonets the swords of four young officers thrust
with an effect that opened a way up through the mob.

"_Los soldados!_" sounded a score of voices at once. On top of this came
another cry in frantic Spanish: "_Al muerto!_" (to the death!)

One short, broad-shouldered fellow rushed at Lieutenant Hal from the
flank, knife uplifted. Hank dropped his hitching weight on the fellow's
toes, and the knife-thrust fell short by some three feet. Tom Halstead's
cudgel floored a rascal who aimed a revolver at Hank.

The first squad went through the crowd fast, though leaving a red trail
of minor sword and bayonet wounds. The second squad had a harder fight,
as the enraged mob, after spreading a bit, closed in. There was still
plenty of fight in the rioters, who now realized how small a military
force had assailed them. Dave Darrin was using the butt of the borrowed
revolver in clubbing every strange head that got within reach of his
arm.