Clif urged his little band of avengers forward with no thought of danger or of the consequences. The inhuman scene he had witnessed drove from his mind all thoughts of the flagship or the important papers he carried upon his person.  
Such barbarity called for vengeance, and that brave American handful of American tars meant to wreak it on their treacherous foes, or die in the attempt.
 
"Come on!" shouted Clif, wildly. "Give it to 'em! Don't let a man escape!"
 
A well directed volley was the answer to his command, that sent death-dealing bullets among the frightened soldiers just before them. But, unfortunately for the heroic little band, they were now fighting in the open, and their strength was known to the enemy.
 
A little further ahead Clif could see that a Spanish officer had succeeded in rallying some of his men, and they were now forming in solid line to repulse the charge of the Americans.
 
The first result of this was a shower of bullets from the Spanish rifles that fortunately for the most part went wide of the mark. But one slightly wounded a sailor at Clif's side, as a sharp exclamation of pain quickly told him.
 
It also aroused his native caution. What was the use, he quickly thought, of holding his men there in the full glare of the moonlight as a target for the enemy's guns, when a more certain conflict could be carried on from the shelter of the trees just behind him? He had too few men to risk losing any on those uneven terms.
 
He quickly ordered his men to drop back into the woods. But it was with great difficulty at first that he could inforce his commands upon the now thoroughly aroused sailors. They wanted to continue their impetuous charge.
 
But a second volley from the remaining troops showed them the wisdom of Clif's decision, and with a return volley they fell back into the darkness and shelter of the trees.
 
"Now, boys," cried Clif, "every man behind a tree and fight for all you are worth. Let every shot tell."
 
The wisdom of Clif's stand became at once apparent. From the ambush of the woods they could fire with little fear of stopping a Spanish bullet with their own bodies.
 
And they did fire, and that to good purpose.
 
The Spaniards were now bolder and bore down upon the ambushed Americans with some semblance of order. But at each volley from the sailors there was a wavering in the ranks of the foe, and Clif could see that more than one dropped wounded from the ranks.
 
"We'll lick 'em yet!" cried Clif, with enthusiasm. "Keep it up, boys!"
 
But the Spaniards advanced steadily in spite of their losses. They, too, were fully aroused at the thought that they had been so roughly handled by such a small number of men.
 
Clif and his gallant band were compelled to drop back from tree to tree. It began to look as though the Spaniards would in the end become victorious.
 
But with the Americans it was do or die. There was no hope of help or succor from any source. No reinforcements were at hand, and none could be sent in time from the flagship, even did those on board suspect the plight in which that boat's crew found itself.
 
But desperate cases require desperate measures, and Clif was equal to the emergency. When it became evident that the Spaniards would indeed fight, Clif's busy brain thought of a means to turn the tide of conflict.
 
It was a slight hope, to be sure, but the only one that presented itself. He smiled in spite of himself, in view of his meagre forces at the thought that the only way to achieve victory was by a flank movement.
 
"I'll take two men," he said hurriedly, "and slip around behind those fellows. The rest of you keep up your fire here, and if our lungs hold out we'll make them think we have reinforcements."
 
It was a very risky move, but with two companions Clif put it into execution at once. They hurried through the woods so as to flank the enemy, an easy task, as the latter were now well up to the little grove.
 
As they reached the edge of the woods which would bring them in the enemy's rear, they set up a mighty shout.
 
"At them, boys!" Clif yelled at his imaginary forces. "Come on! we've got 'em!"
 
Then in Spanish he cried, so that the enemy could hear:
 
&qu............