[Illustration: Plaza Mercado, Mayaguez.]

Our advance-guard, after leaving San German, marched rapidly along the
level road leading to Mayaguez until about three o'clock in the afternoon.
As the head of our column came into view, the country people living along
the route gathered their most precious possessions into huge bundles, and
hurried away across the fields,--a sure sign that we were approaching the
enemy's position. At the hour mentioned we were suddenly set upon by a
blinding shower, and a halt was made for about fifteen minutes, when, the
fury of the downpour having somewhat abated, we once more began to move
ahead. The cavalry had gone off on a side road for some purpose not known
to me, and the infantry was deployed in long lines to the right and left,
while the artillery brought up the rear at an interval of about a hundred
yards. At half-past three the skirmishers came to the Rio Rosario, but,
being unable to ford it, were called back to the road and started across
the iron bridge, already described by General Schwan. It was at this moment
that the Spanish forces opened fire, concealed in a dense undergrowth about
500 yards in our front.

All jammed together as we were, it would seem that we might have been
absolutely slaughtered by the leaden hail which was poured in upon us; and
the only explanation of our marvellous immunity probably lies in the fact
that the enemy were surprisingly bad shots. Bullets whistled by our heads,
or kicked up the dirt at our feet; but, though the pop of rifles made up a
continuous sound like the opening of a hundred thousand beer-bottles, not a
vestige of smoke rose in the clear air, not a patch of hostile uniform was
to be seen.

For some reason our infantry did not at once reply to the Spanish