MEXICANS BECOME SUDDENLY MEEK Trent leaped to the roof.

With his left arm he warded off a blow aimed at his head with the butt of a rifle.
Then his sword flashed, its point going clean through the body of the Mexican soldier who barred his way.
"Death to the Gringos! Death to the Gringos!" yelled the Mexicans.
But Trent drove back two men with his flashing sword.

After him Dave heaped to the roof, his revolver barking fast and true.
Danny Grin followed, and he darted around to the other side of the skylight, turning loose his revolver.
The fire was returned briskly by the enemy, all of whom wore the uniform of the Mexican regular infantry.
In the footsteps of the officers came, swiftly, four stalwart young sailormen, and now the American force had a footing on the roof.
At first none of the Mexicans thought of asking for quarter.
One of the infantrymen, retreating before Dalzell's deftly handled sword, and fighting back with his rifle butt, retreated so close to the edge of the roof that, in another instant, he had fallen to the street below, breaking his neck.
Ere the last dozen Americans had succeeded in reaching the roof the fight was over, for the few Mexicans still able to fight suddenly threw down their rifles, shouting pleadingly: "_Piedad!_ _piedad!_" (pity).
"Accept all surrenders!" shouted Lieutenant Trent at the top of his voice.
Four quivering, frightened Mexicans accepted this mercy, standing huddled together, their eyes eloquent with fear.
The fight had been a short, but savage one.

A glance at the roof's late defenders showed, including the man lying in the street below, eight dead Mexicans, one of whom was the boyish lieutenant of infantry who had commanded this detachment.

Nine more were badly wounded.