CHAPTER XXII.
PLAYING BIRDMAN IN WAR Unconsciously Ensign Dave Darrin swayed slightly, so close did the shower of bullets pass him.
Then the reports of more than a score of American rifles rang out just as Danny Grin reached his chum's side.
"Hurt, David, little giant ?" asked Dan.
"Not even touched, so far as I know," smiled Darrin.
"Boatswain's mate, take a dozen men and leap into that house through the open window!" Lieutenant Trent called, sternly.
Then the senior officer hurried over to the subordinate.
"Did the rascals get you, Darrin ?" demanded the lieutenant, anxiously.
"I don't think so, sir," was the reply.

"I don't believe I've a scratch." "It's a marvel," gasped Trent, after having taken a pocket electric light and by its rays examined the young ensign.

"I believe every one of those Mexicans aimed at you." "It seemed so, sir," Dave laughed.
Danny Grin had already gone, and without orders.

The instant he was satisfied that his chum was uninjured Dalzell had leaped away in the wake of the party led by the boatswain's mate.

Now Dan was climbing in through the window, helped by two seamen who had been left on guard outside.
But the search of the house revealed only one dead Mexican, not in uniform, who had been killed by the sailormen's fire, and a trail of blood that must have been shed by the wounded enemy as they were carried away.
"Bandits---Cosetta's men---not soldiers, this time," was Dan's instant guess.
The miscreants and their wounded, as the blood trail showed, had escaped by way of the rear of the house.