The chain of hills which
surrounded the city, lying between it and our position, was crowned
with rank tropical verdure, and gave no indications of military
fortifications. There was no sign of life, a gentle land breeze swayed
the tops of the royal palms, and the little birds flitted from bough
to bough caroling their morning songs as though no such events were
impending as the bombardment of a city and the death of 400 gallant
soldiers. The gentle ripple of the creek, lapping over its pebbly bed
at the foot of the hill, was distinctly audible.
The artillery officers produced their range-finders and made a
scientific guess at the distance from the hill to a red brick building
in the northern edge of Santiago. This guess was 2600 yards. They
signalled to the lead piece of Grimes' Light Battery to ascend the
hill. It was delayed for a moment while picks and shovels were plied
upon the top of the hill to make slight emplacements for the guns, and
at last, at ten minutes before eight o'clock, the first piece started
the difficult ascent. The drivers stood up in their stirrups and
lashed their horses and shouted; the horses plunged and reared and
jumped. The piece stuck half way up the hill.
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