change of
flags of truce. The thing with which the ants were already busy there on
the floor was an uncontrovertible fact. Consequently, there being no
grounds upon which to arbitrate the matter, the mutineers blazed away
cheerfully at anything that showed itself on the plaza. They had now
nothing to lose.

Then, shortly, there sounded from the guard-house, through the
rain-drenched night, the call that jerks the soldier out of his bunk,
all standing, from any sleep but that of death: the "call to arms."

In fifteen minutes "B" Troop's quarters were surrounded on all sides by
the other troops of the squadron, the men of which, from safe cover,
observed the carbine flashes and wild yells emanating therefrom with
mild surprise, and wondered "what de hell had broke loose."

Major Bliss sat under the smoky lantern at the guard-house, surrounded
by the officers of the station. He questioned sharply the men who had
escaped from "B" Troop's barracks. At intervals he swore mightily and
cursed the day that Roger Williams Perkins was born.

"And to think that old Wilson should be at the head of this! Old Wilson,
of all men! Why, he is worth fifty thousand Perkinses, dead or alive. I
am only sorry that Perkins didn't get away. I should like to have got
hold of him myself, damn him."

There was no hesitation in the makeup of Major Bliss. He intended to
suppress this outbreak in a manner that would tend to discourage any
such ebullitions in the future. Consequently, he made his dispositions
with grimness and determination. His plan was simple, his orders being
to "rush 'em and give 'em hell." His greatest regret was that the
interests of discipline should make such a step necessary, since he was
sure that a majority of the mutineers had acted upon impulse, and were
already excessively sorry for themselves.

In the midst of these untoward events, the "Tarlac," coastwise transport
blew into the bay through the murk and rain, and Captain North, of "B"
Troop, the "Ole Cap'n," returned to the station. Hearing the shots and
yells, he concluded that the Major was "shooting up the town," and
splashed hurriedly to his quarters for his saber and revolver. There in
the darkness he stumbled over his _muchacho_, who had deposited himself
at the foot of the steps and was earnestly beseeching his patron saint
to have him spared this once; promising an altar cloth and innumerable
candles if he should be allowed to exist long enough to secure