CONCLUSION.

“Shure, an’ it’s more than I’d give for ye,” laughed Dan Daly. “A thousand dollars! Begorra, it’s yourself won’t be afther getting it.”

And with these words Dan launched a terrific blow at the Spaniard nearest to him. The man dropped.

“Shure, it’s right I was.”

Dan turned his attention elsewhere, and Young Glory was defending himself bravely.

His comrades had heard the Spanish officer put a price upon the young hero’s head, and the horrible proceeding infuriated them. They flew to his assistance, clustering around him to protect him from harm.

It was a terrible struggle. It must be said for the Spaniards that they fought bravely. They vastly outnumbered the Americans, and this may have given them courage. However, the end was near.

One after another the leading men in the Spanish ranks were shot down and killed with the cutlass. The survivors began to falter.

“Courage!” cried an officer, dashing up and waving his sword. “Courage! Stand your ground! Help is at hand!”

Those words stayed the retreat. Back to the rocks at the charge rushed the Spaniards, some of them looking anxiously around for the promised aid.

There was a wild cheer from the Spanish ranks now. Three large boats, each filled with soldiers, swept round the point.

The Americans were taken in the rear now. Between them and the sea there was no shelter.

Bang! Bang!

It was the Spaniards in the boats firing.

Up rushed Mr. Tyler.

“Lads,” he said, “this place can be held no longer. We are between two fires. There is but one thing to do. We must dash out of here, cut our way through the enemy and storm the fort.”

“Hurrah!”

The men shouted wildly. It was a bold plan, quite suited to the audacious nature of these reckless sailors.

Over the rocks, led by the lieutenant, they rushed. Their coming had not been expected by the Spaniards, and the consequence was, that they gave way in face of the sudden attack.

In all directions they turned and fled, the sailors in their eagerness dashing after them and cutting them down. The scene of the fight was a ghastly sight now. All around lay the dead and dying, and every minute added fresh victims to the list.

But now the men were recalled from the pursuit of the flying enemy to resume the main purpose for which they had landed. This was to attack and capture the fort and silence the guns.

Up the steep ascent they toiled, protected from harm by the trees which covered the slope. As they drew nearer the batteries, they saw that an almost impossible task was before them.

The walls of the fort were steep and high. The sailors had no scaling ladder with them. How, then, could they hope to make a successful attack?

This was the problem that confronted Lieut. Tyler.

“Faith, we can jump it!” cried Dan.

“Then you’re wasting your time in the navy if that’s so, Dan,” laughed Young Glory. “A man who can clear fifteen feet ought to go in for athletics.”

There was no holding the men back.

Furiously they rushed forward, leaving the shelter of the trees to assail the fort.

Bang, bang!

The Spaniards had them at their mercy now. They fired from the rampart at the helpless men below.

“Back!” shouted Lieutenant Tyler. “Back, I say! This is folly!”

It needed no more talking to show this. Already in this brief attack the men had sustained a heavier loss than in all the fighting of the day.

“Where’s Young Glory?” was the cry.

There was a look of dismay on everyone’s face as they glanced round and saw that he was missing.

“The boy gone!” cried Dan, frantically. “Arrah, then, it’s meself’s goin’ too!”

And breaking away from those who tried to hold him, Dan fairly flew till he came to the spot beneath the fort where his comrades had just fallen.

“Not there!” he cried. “It’s a prisoner he is! An’ shure, how could they take him prisoner? It’s not one of them Spaniards has ventured out. An’, begorra, he wouldn’t be afther takin’ himself prisoner!”

Dismissing this last idea as unreasonable, Dan, who had miraculously escaped the enemy’s bullets, ran back to his comrades.

“It’s the last we’ve seen of him.”

Now, where was Young Glory?

In the attack that had been made on the fort the boy had been at the extreme right that is, the point of view nearest the sea. Whilst his comrades were aimlessly throwing themselves against the walls of the fort, Young Glory was otherwise engaged.

He had seen a figure emerge from the fort and glide amongst the trees at some distance away. Quick as lightning Young Glory did the same. He stole along towards the spot where the Spaniard had secreted himself, and there was a look on the boy’s face that spoke volumes.

“It is he!” he muttered. “I only saw him for an instant, but it’s a face I never forgot.”

Bang! A man sprang forth, pistol in hand, and fired.

As he did so he laughed defiantly.

“Good-by, Young Glory!”

“You villain, I am not dead yet, as you shall see, Jose Castro!”

For it was the famous Spanish spy.

Quick as lightning, before Jose could fire again, Young Glory had sprung on him.

“Give me the key!” he cried, holding the spy in an iron grasp. “Give me the key, or I will kill you!”

“What key?” gasped Jose.

“The key of the door by which you have just left the fort. I saw you do so. You cannot deceive me.”

“And this is my answer!”

With these words Jose tore himself loose, and then an instant later, he flew at Young Glory, knife in hand. But his foot caught in some vegetation, and he fell forward.

As he did so, a large key dropped from his pocket.

“The key!” shouted Young Glory, making for it, with a glad look on his face.

“You shall not have it!” cried Jose. “Death first!”

“Yes, death for you!”

Young Glory seized the frantic Spaniard as he struggled to reach the key. For a moment or so, they swayed about on the bluff. Then Young Glory, exerting all his strength, tossed the spy backwards, releasing his hold so as to save himself from going with him.

Jose Castro went crashing down the bluff towards the sea and the jagged rocks which lay below.

“The last of the spy!” cried Young Glory.

He did not press forward to inquire further into Jose’s fate, but flying through the wood at full speed, he burst in on his astonished comrades.

“Saved!” he cried.

“Saved, Young Glory! What does this mean?”

“That I will lead you into the fort, sir. Follow me!”

Stealthily the entire band, hidden from view by the trees, reached the door.

“When it is open, dash in!” said Young Glory. “Not a moment must be lost!”

The men were astounded to see him walk up to the door in the rampart, insert the key in the lock, and open it. Madly they rushed through into the fort.

The Spaniards were standing at the guns when this sudden attack took place, thinking that the enemy was in front. They had no time to rally.

Young Glory leading, the American sailors pressed forward, cutting down all in their path. A few of the Spaniards resisted for a few minutes. Then they threw down their arms in token of surrender.

A number of them saved themselves by jumping off the rampart and flying through the woods.

“The fort is ours!” cried Young Glory.

“The guns must be destroyed,” shouted Mr. Tyler. “My lads, those breech-loaders can be easily rendered unfit for use. To the work!”

Rapidly the destruction went on. When it was finished the American tars poured down the hill again, took to their boats, and departed without opposition.

When they reached the cruiser they found that the tide had flowed so fast that the ship was no longer aground.

In a few minutes the vessel left the shores of Cuba behind, and was steaming with all speed for Key West.

The gun-boat having already arrived at the last named place, the story of the gallant fight at San Juan de Porto Rico was already public property. A great reception was given to the Cristobal Colon as she steamed into port.

Young Glory was fairly worshiped, for he was justly regarded as the hero of the battle.

However, he was not inactive long.

In a few days he sailed with an expedition.

His daring deeds will be related under the title of young Glory in Cuba.