From where he sat Clay could count the bars of the iron fence in front of the grounds.But the boards that backed them prevented his forming any idea of the strength or the distribution of Mendoza's forces.He drew his staff of amateur officers to one side and explained the situation to them.
``The Theatre National and the Club Union,'' he said, ``face the Palace from the opposite corners of this street.You must get into them and barricade the windows and throw up some sort of shelter for yourselves along the edge of the roofs and drive the men behind that fence back to the Palace.Clear them away from the cannon first, and keep them away from it.I will be waiting in the street below.When you have driven them back, we will charge the gates and have it out with them in the gardens.The Third and Fourth regiments ought to take them in the rear about the same time.You will continue to pick them off from the roof.''
The two supporting columns had already started on their roundabout way to the rear of the Palace.Clay gathered up his reins, and telling his men to keep close to the walls, started forward, his soldiers following on the sidewalks and leaving the middle of the street clear.As they reached a point a hundred yards below the Palace, a part of the wooden shield behind the fence was thrown down, there was a puff of white smoke and a report, and a cannon-ball struck the roof of a house which they were passing and sent the tiles clattering about their heads.But the men in the lead had already reached the stage-door of the theatre and were opposite one of the doors to the club.They drove these in with the butts of their rifles, and raced up the stairs of each of the deserted buildings until they reached the roof.Langham was swept by a weight of men across a stage, and jumped among the music racks in the orchestra.He caught a glimpse of the early morning sun shining on the tawdry hangings of the boxes and the exaggerated perspective of the scenery.He ran through corridors between two great statues of Comedy and Tragedy, and up a marble stair case to a lobby in which he saw the white faces about him multiplied in long mirrors, and so out to an iron balcony from which he looked down, panting and breathless, upon the Palace Gardens, swarming with soldiers and white with smoke.Men poured through the windows of the club opposite, dragging sofas and chairs out to the balcony and upon the flat roof.The men near him were tearing down the yellow silk curtains in the lobby and draping them along the railing of the balcony to better conceal their movements from the enemy below.Bullets spattered the stucco about their heads, and panes of glass broke suddenly and fell in glittering particles upon their shoulders.The firing had already begun from the roofs near them.Beyond the club and the theatre and far along the street on each side of the Palace the merchants were slamming the iron shutters of their shops, and men and women were running for refuge up the high steps of the church of Santa Maria.
Others were gathered in black masses on the balconies and roofs of the more distant houses, where they stood outlined against the soft blue sky in gigantic silhouette.Their shouts of encouragement and anger carried clearly in the morning air, and spurred on the gladiators below to greater effort.In the Palace Gardens a line of Mendoza's men fought from behind the first barricade, while others dragged tables and bedding and chairs across the green terraces and tumbled them down to those below, who seized them and formed them into a second line of defence.
Two of the assistant engineers were kneeling at Langham's feet with the barrels of their rifles resting on the railing of the balcony.Their eyes had been trained for years to judge distances and to measure space, and they glanced along the sights of their rifles as though they were looking through the lens of a transit, and at each report their faces grew more earnest and their lips pressed tighter together.One of them lowered his gun to light a cigarette, and Langham handed him his match-box, with a certain feeling of repugnance.
``Better get under cover, Mr.Langham,'' the man said, kindly.
``There's no use our keeping your mines for you if you're not alive to enjoy them.Take a shot at that crew around the gun.''
``I don't like this long range business,'' Langham answered.``Iam going down to join Clay.I don't like the idea of hitting a man when he isn't looking at you.''
The engineer gave an incredulous laugh.
``If he isn't looking at you, he's aiming at the man next to you.
`Live and let Live' doesn't apply at present.''
As Langham reached Clay's side triumphant shouts arose from the roof-tops, and the men posted there stood up and showed themselves above the barricades and called to Clay that the cannon were deserted.
Kirkland had come prepared for the barricade, and, running across the street, fastened a dynamite cartridge to each gate post and lit the fuses.The soldiers scattered before him as he came leaping back, and in an instant later there was a racking roar, and the gates were pitched out of their sockets and thrown forward, and those in the street swept across them and surrounded the cannon.
