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 had, according to good military usage, fraternized; despite Danny's prohibitive orders, they proceeded to take possession of the town. To this the authorities had made no objection, at first; the five and twenty were not overly well supplied with ready money; a mercenary rarely is so when he enlists; they spent what they had, but it was not enough to fire their martial spirits to the fighting point.

With the coming of the third instalment of legionaries—ten more men—there had been disorder, however (the Turcos regretted to state). Among them had been one with much money—a Frenchman who had served in the desert. The Turcos were desolated to admit it, but their comrades had become disgracefully intoxicated.

Captain Mahone had done his utmost to quell the disturbance; one man against thirty-five, however, is at an obvious and undeniable disadvantage. By the time of the arrival of the last five men he was struggling vainly against fate and overwhelming numbers.

The men were drinking, and anarchy threatened in the peaceful island of Gran Canaria. The authorities were scared and powerless.

Mahone, almost at his wits' end, had connived with the five and the gendarmes. Fortunately, the rejoicing ones were unarmed. That simplified matters considerably. At the head of his five—with the police politely umpiring the game—he descended upon the roisterers and gave them battle.

The Turcos sighed regretfully; from what they said O'Rourke gathered that it had been a joyous conflict, lasting many hours, fought freely and fairly throughout the many narrow thoroughfares of Las Palmas; it was not often, averred the Turcos ruefully, that one came upon so satisfy-