The column continued its tortuous track, winding through deep denies, and over hot white hills, like a bristling snake.

It moved within range of the guns of the city, screened by intervening heights.

Now and then the loud cannon of Santiago opened upon it, as some regiment displayed itself, crossing a defile or pushing over the spur of a sand-hill.

The constant rattling of rifles and musketry told that our skirmishers were busy in the advance.

The arsenal was carried by a brilliant charge, and the American flag waved over the ruins of the Convent Malibran.