jackies, and by common consent they formed themselves into a company of their own, with a petty officer named Gordell at their head. Gordell went to General Lawton for directions, and was told to follow the volunteers until given further orders. Each sailor was armed with a pistol and a ship’s cutlass.
The march was a hot one, but Larry was now getting accustomed to the tropics and hardly minded this. The little company advanced with caution, nobody desiring to run into an ambush. Soon the firing on the right reached their ears, and they knew that some sort of an engagement was on. Then came a halt, and presently the darkness of night fell over them; and they went into camp beside a tiny watercourse flowing into a good-sized stream which separated the expedition from the outskirts of Santa Cruz.
Supper disposed of, Larry and Luke Striker took a stroll forward, to find out what the firing line was really doing and if the insurgents were in front in force. “We may have a bigger fight on hand nor any of us expect,” suggested the old Yankee gunner.
“You can trust General Lawton not to run his head into the lion’s mouth,” returned Larry. “A soldier who has whipped the Apache Indians isn’t going to suffer any surprise at the hands of these Tagals, no matter how wily they are.”
“Don’t be too sure o’ thet, Larry. The best on us make mistakes sometimes,” answered the Yankee, with a grave shake of his head. But General Lawton made no mistake, as we shall speedily see.
As has been said, the right wing had become detached from the main body of the expedition during the fight on the hill back of Santa Cruz. The firing line of this wing had not yet united with the centre, consequently there was a gap of over a quarter of a mile in the front. Had the Tagalogs known of this they might have divided the expedition and surrounded the right wing completely, but they did not know, so the temporary separation did no damage to the soldiers. But that gap brought a good bit of trouble to Larry and his friend.
On and on went the pair, down a narrow road lined on either side with palms and plantains and sweet-smelling shrubs. From the hollows the frogs croaked dismally, and here and there a night bird uttered its lonely cry, but otherwise all was silent.
“Humph, they’ve pushed the firing line ahead further than I thought,” remarked Luke, after half a mile had been covered. “Here’s a small river. Do ye reckon as how they went over thet, lad?”
“It must be so,” answered the boy. “Certainly, we haven’t been challenged.”
Crossing the rude bridge, they found that the road made a sharp turn to the southward. Beyond was a nipa hut, back of which burnt a small camp-fire. Both hut and fire seemed deserted.
“They have cleaned the rebels out from there,” said Larry. “Come ahead,” and they continued on their way, little dreaming of the trap into which they were walking.
The nipa hut passed, they came to a tall fence built of bamboo stalks, sharpened at the tops and bound with native rope-vine. Farther on still were a dozen shelters, and here could be seen several women and children sitting in the doorways.
“Perhaps they can give us some information,” said Larry, as they approached the natives. As soon as they saw the Americans the children shrieked dismally and rushed out of sight. But the women held their ground, feeling that they would not be molested.
“See anything of our soldiers?” demanded Luke of the women, but one and all shook their heads. “No Englees talk,” mumbled one, meaning they did not understand or speak our tongue.
The natives’ manner made Larry suspicious, and he glanced around hurriedly. As he did so there was a click of a trigger from behind the bamboo fence.
“Americanos surrender,” came in bad English from back of the fence. “Surrender quick, or we shoot both dead on the spot!”
CHAPTER V
AN ENCOUNTER AT THE RIVER
To say that both Larry and his old friend were surprised at the sudden demand which had been made upon them would be to put the truth very mildly. They had been of the firm belief that the insurgents had retreated, and to find themselves in a “reg’lar hornet’s nest,” as Luke afterward expressed it, dumfounded them.
“Do you surrender, or not?” came the words, after an awkward pause.
It was dark about the huts, yet not so dim but that they could see the barrels of several Mauser rifles thrust toward them. The sight made Larry shiver, for he had never before met the rebel soldiers at such close quarters.
“We’re in a box,” muttered Luke. “Somethin’ wrong somewhar – our soldiers didn’t come this way, ye kin reckon on thet.”
“I move we run for it,” whispered Larry. “If they take us prisoners – ” He did not finish, but his silence was more impressive than mere words would have been. He had heard many stories of terrible cruelty practised by the insurgents on their prisoners, and whether these tales were true or not, they had had their full effect on both him and his shipmates.
“Where are ye goin’ to run to, lad? We don’t want to run an’ be shot down in cold blood.”
“Get in front of me and take to the woods opposite, Luke,” was the hurried reply. “Here goes! I don’t think they’ll fire now!”
As Larry concluded, he sprang to the side of one of the native women standing nearest to him. Before the woman could resist, he had her in his arms behind him and was running off as speedily as the weight of his living load permitted. Seeing this, Luke scuttled off before, and away they went for the woods, not twenty yards distant.
A howl arose on the night air, and one gun went off, but the bullet did no damage. Then the leader of the rebels was heard, calling to his men not to fire, for fear of killing the woman, who chanced, by good luck, to be a close relative; for the soldiers behind the bamboo fence were part of a home guard brought out that very afternoon to defend the road and Santa Cruz.
The woman on Larry’s back shrieked in terror and clawed at his neck and hair, causing him considerable pain. But he held his burden tight until the shelter of the trees was gained, when he let her slip to the ground and darted after Luke, who was running with all the speed of his lanky limbs.
It was pitch dark in the jungle, and the pair had not advanced more than a hundred yards when they found themselves going down into a hollow which both felt must lead to a dangerous swamp, or morass, for the island of Luzon is full of such fever-breeding places.
“Go slow, lad,” whispered Luke, as he caught Larry by the hand. “We don’t want to land out o’ the fryin’-pan into the fire.”
They both became silent and listened attentively. At a distance they heard the insurgents coming on slowly and cautiously, spreading out as they advanced. Probably they knew the topography of the country and meant to surround the hollow completely.
“They are coming, that’s sure,” whispered Larry, and clutched his pistol. “I wonder if we can’t get away from them by climbing a tree.”
“We can – if they ain’t a-followin’ the trail putty close,” answered his companion.
They began to search around for a tree, and in doing so came to several large rocks, much over-grown with trailing vines. There was an opening between two of the rocks, and Luke slipped into this, hauling Larry after him.
“Jest as good as a tree, an’ mebbe better,” he whispered, as he rearranged
