as he crouched close to his Yankee friend. The vines covered the opening completely, yet they remained on guard, each with his finger on the trigger of his weapon, resolved, if the worst came to the worst, to fight the best they knew how before surrendering.
The Filipinos were evidently puzzled, for they had come to a halt and made not the slightest noise. Possibly they were listening for some sound from those they were pursuing, but if so, none came, for Luke clapped his hand warningly over Larry’s mouth, and the youth understood and remained as motionless as a statue.
Five minutes went by – to the boy they seemed an age – and then the rebels came on again, halting every few steps to make sure of their ground. Three passed close to the rocks, so close in fact that Larry and Luke could have shot them down without trouble. But this would have given the alarm to the entire party, and neither the boy nor the man wanted to shed blood unless it became absolutely necessary.
At last the Filipinos had left the rocks behind and were circling around the swamp at the bottom of the hollow. “Now is the time to give ’em the slip,” whispered Luke, and crawled once more into the open. Larry followed, and both hurried away from the vicinity with all possible speed. It was the last seen or heard of the party who had so unexpectedly blockaded their progress on the highway.
The jungle at the top of the hill was as dense as that below, and the pair had not proceeded far before they found themselves in a veritable tangle of bushes and vines. The bushes were of the thorny kind peculiar to this locality, and more than once Larry found himself caught and held as if in a vice.
“My clothing will be in tatters if this keeps on,” he panted, as he cut himself loose with difficulty. “Did you ever see such a thicket!”
“We missed it when we started out to-night,” returned Luke, gravely. “We’ve gone astray o’ the firm’ line and everything else, to my way o’ lookin’ at it.”
Bad as was their situation, they felt it would be worse with the coming of daylight. “We must get out of the enemy’s territory before the sun rises,” said Larry. “If we don’t, we’ll have no show at all.”
But getting out was not easy; indeed, the farther they advanced, the more difficult did it seem to become, until both came to the conclusion that they had missed their bearings entirely, and were lost. “And can’t even see the stars to read ’em,” groaned Luke. “Larry, we might as well make the best of it, and wait for daylight.”
But the youth demurred and insisted on going ahead. “We’re bound to strike something soon,” he said, and did, immediately afterward. It was a log lying on the edge of an incline, and down he pitched, and log and lad rolled over and over, with Luke following, to bring up with a loud splash in the river below.
The force of their fall took them under the surface of the stream, and in the struggle to save themselves both lost their cutlasses. But, as old readers know, each could swim well, and they speedily came up and struck out for the most available landing-place, which was on the opposite bank.
“Alto!” came the sudden cry, in Spanish. “Halt!” And now a sentry appeared from behind a pile of cord-wood lying but a short distance away.
“Discovered again,” muttered Luke, and felt for his pistol. “Soaked!” he muttered, in disgust.
The cry of the rebel on guard had given the alarm to several others, and in a twinkling Larry and the old Yankee tar found themselves confronted by an even more determined crowd than that encountered on the road. With the water behind them, escape was out of the question, for a jump back into the river would have courted a fire which must have resulted in death.
“Americanos!” muttered one of the rebels, drawing closer. “And sailors, not soldiers,” he added, in his native tongue. “Where did you come from?”
Larry and Luke shook their heads. “Talk United States and we’ll speak to you,” said the old sailor.
“You gif up?” demanded an under officer, as he pushed his way forward, with his pistol covering Larry’s heart.
“Ain’t nuthin’ else to do, I reckon,” replied Luke, before Larry could answer. He was afraid the boy might be rash and try running away again.
“Throw down de pistoles, den,” muttered the Tagal, with an ugly frown.
Down went the weapons on the ground, and then two of the rebels advanced to search them. They found nothing of special value excepting the pair’s jack-knives, and these were confiscated and turned over to the officer in command.
The prisoners were then told to march up the river shore to a road leading into Santa Cruz. With their hands bound tightly behind them, they were placed in charge of a detail of four Filipinos, who were instructed to take them without delay before the general in charge of the city’s defences.
“They may hold information of importance,” said the under officer. “Do not delay a minute;” and off went the crowd, the soldiers prodding the prisoners with their bayonets whenever Larry and Luke did not walk fast enough to suit them.
The course taken was through a narrow and exceedingly dirty street. It was after midnight, yet the expected attack of the Americans had kept all the inhabitants awake. The prisoners were jeered at repeatedly, and at one point were covered with a shower of mud and stale vegetables. The onslaught might have been more serious had not the soldiers interfered.
“Get back, you dogs,” shouted the leader, a little Tagal scarcely five feet in height, but with an air of magnificent importance. “These men are to go before the general, and at once!” And much abashed the natives fell back, and the prisoners were molested no further.
It would naturally be supposed that the general in command would be found at the front at such a time, when an attack on the city was but a matter of a few hours. Instead, however, General Bamodo was found at one of the government buildings, calmly smoking a cigar, and conversing with several native business men.
“Spies, eh?” he queried, when the guard had told him about the prisoners. “Bring them in immediately.”
Larry and Luke were told to enter the room, and did so, their still wet clothing forming little puddles at their feet. The guards stood beside and behind them. General Bamodo eyed them critically. He spoke no English, and so called in an interpreter.
“Where are you from?” demanded the interpreter, presently, after a few words with his superior.
“We are from the warship Olympia,” answered Luke, briefly.
“You were sent here by General Otis as spies, not so?”
“No, sir, we are jest plain, everyday sailors.”
“Then what brought you here?” demanded the interpreter, after translating their words to General Bamodo.
“We missed our way on the road,” put in Larry, before Luke could answer. He thought it best not to say anything about accompanying General Lawton’s expedition.
“You must have missed it very much, General Bamodo says,” growled the interpreter, after another consultation with his superior. “Santa Cruz is a good many miles from Manila harbor.”
To this Larry remained silent, and another talk in Spanish followed. Then a sudden shot from a distance caused General Bamodo to leap to his feet and dash down his cigar.
“Take them to the prison – I will examine them
