If we pushed our way through the town, at once we would then have Mexican firing ahead of us and also at the rear.

No fighting men behave well under such circumstances." An hour later it became plain that Trent's detachment had some new work cut out for it, for a commissary officer now directed that the men be marched down the street to receive rations.
"We're going to have night work all right, then, and perhaps plenty of it," Darrin declared to his chum.

"If we were going to remain here rations wouldn't be furnished us." Trent was inside, personally seeing to matters, when a sentry halted a man in civilian clothes.
"A friend," replied the man in answer to the challenge.
"Advance and give your name," persisted the sentry.
"Lieutenant Cantor of the '_Long Island_.'" At hearing that name, from one in civilian dress, Dave stepped forward.
"You've been halted by a man from your own ship, sir," nodded Darrin, on getting close enough to see that the man really was Cantor.
"Hullo," was Trent's greeting, as he stepped outside.

"On duty, Cantor ?" "Not official duty," replied the other lieutenant.
"You are authorized to be ashore, of course ?" continued Trent, surveying his brother officer, keenly, for, at such a time, it was strange to see a naval officer ashore in anything but uniform.
"I have proper authority for being ashore," Cantor nodded.
"That is all, then," said Lieutenant Trent.

"You may proceed, of course, but you are going to be halted and held up by every sentry who sees you.