Their pieces were all empty! At this moment my eye rested on one of the soldiers, a brave but slow-footed German, who was still twenty paces in the rear of his comrades, making every effort to come up.

Two of the guerilleros were rushing upon him with couched lances.

I galloped out to his rescue; but before I could reach him the lance of the foremost Mexican crashed through the soldier's skull, shivering it like a shell.

The barb and bloody pennon came out on the opposite side.

The man was lifted from the ground, and carried several paces upon the shaft of the lance.
The guerillero dropped his entangled weapon; but before he could draw any other, the sword of Victoria was through his heart.
His comrade turned upon me with a cry of vengeance.