you have to, but get to the palace."

The officer in charge fought his way to my side. He was covered with
sweat and blood. He made a path for himself with his bare arms.

"What in hell does this mean, Macklin?" he shouted. "Who are we
fighting?"

"You are fighting every native you see," I ordered. "Let loose up this
street. Get to the palace!"

I rode on to the rear of the gun, and as McGraw and I raced on toward
the next post, we heard it stabbing the air with short, vicious blows.

At the same instant the heavens shook with a clap of thunder, the sky
turned black, and with the sudden fierceness of the tropics, heavy
drops of rain began to beat upon us, and to splash in the dust like
hail.

A moment later and the storm burst upon the city. The streets were
swept with great sheets of water, torrents flowed from the housetop,
the skies darkened to ink, or were ripped asunder by vivid flashes,
and the thunder rolled unceasingly. We were half drowned, as though we
were dragged through a pond, and our ponies bowed and staggered before
the double onslaught of wind and water. We bent our bodies to theirs,
and lashed them forward.

The outpost to which we were now riding was stationed at the edge of
the city where the Calle Morizan joins the trail to San Lorenzo on the
Pacific coast. As we approached it I saw a number of mounted men,