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For a few minutes they searched in vain. Then, in turning over the lower berth's mattress, Eph's hand touched something hard. "Wait until I get my pocket-knife out," he smiled. Rip! r-r-r-r-rip! As Ensign Eph tore open the mattress and thrust his hands inside, the grin on his face broadened. "I reckon we've got the object of the whole expedition," he announced.
R-r-r-r-rip! rang out the exploding cartridges too rapidly for count. Hal swung the nose of the piece slightly from side to side, and the storm of Gatling bullets raked thoroughly the road ahead. At first the on-rushing Moros had been almost stopped by the sudden, low, accurate infantry fire.
But Sergeant Hal and two men had dragged the Gatling, momentarily silenced, to one side of the road, where they could still employ this machine of destruction. Another belt of cartridges Sergeant Overton fed in. Then he started the machine again. R-r-r-r-rip! The Gatling was performing at hand-to-hand quarters now.
R-r-r-r-rip! Its volleys rang out. A rain of bullets struck at the edge of the hotel roof, driving back the snipers amid yells of pain. Yet the instant the machine gun ceased its leaden cyclone the snipers were back at work, firing in a way that showed their rage.
Sergeant Noll was at the breech of the Gatling. R-r-r-r-rip! rattled out that rapid-fire machine, and the fire swept mercilessly into the ranks of those who defended the datto. Lieutenant Holmes had gotten the wounded inside the walls. Now, with his efficient men he had turned to guard the gate, for outside, hundreds of frantically-yelling Moro fanatics had gathered for the attack on the invaders.
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