you will count me as a guest, do me a favor."
"Anything I can do I will do gladly."
"Then send some men back for my companion."
"What was the trouble with him?"
"He fell on the rocks and hurt his back."
"That is truly unfortunate, capitan. But it would do small good for me to send back for him. Our hospital camps are already overcrowded—not one could take him in."
"He will die if left alone, without food or drink, and in this weather."
At this the Filipino captain shrugged his lean shoulders. "That must be his affair—not mine. But you may be mistaken. He may crawl back to his friends."
Ben shook his head slowly. He pitied Gilmore from the bottom of his heart. Yet a glance at the face of the individual before him told him that to argue the matter further would be useless.
"A portion of your army is pushing this way, I believe?" went on the Filipino commander, slowly, and fixing his black eyes full upon the young officer.
"My comrade and I were pushing this way."
The Filipino frowned. Ben saw that he was now ready to throw aside his mask and get down to business. "You were spies?"
"I must decline to answer further questions, sir."
"You were spies, sent to find out our strength?" continued the Filipino.
Ben remained silent.
"Are you going to answer, or will you take the consequences, capitan?"
"I have nothing further to say."
"But I will make you talk!" cried the rebel, his voice rising. "I have never yet been balked, either by Spaniards or Americanos. Do you know who I am? I am Captain Relosus."
At the mention of that name Ben could not help but start, for he had heard it many times before. Captain Relosus was one of the leading sharp-shooters and spies among the Tagals, and it was known that he had been in Manila more than once, on secret missions for General Aguinaldo. It was Relosus who aided in the conspiracy to burn down the capital, and it was also this man who had, on three different occasions, persuaded American soldiers to desert from the ranks and throw in their fortunes with the insurgents.
"You are the noted Captain Relosus, he who escaped from Manila but a few weeks ago?" questioned Ben, slowly, hardly knowing what else to say.
"The same, and I am glad you know of me, capitan, for you now understand with whom you have to deal. I allow nothing and nobody to stand in my way." Captain Relosus drew himself up to his full height of five feet four inches. "When I ask a question it must be answered."
Again there was a pause, and each captain looked the other squarely in the face. Ben saw that the man before him was an equal mixture of shrewdness, conceit, dandyism, and brutal stubbornness—a combination due to his mixed Spanish, Tagalog, and Malayan blood. He was a man who might be easily coaxed, but never driven.
Noting all this, Ben forced a smile to his face. "Captain, you are a wonderful man. Your escape from the city is the talk of the town. How ever did you accomplish it?"
"Ha! ha! I fooled the Americano guards nicely, did I not? So they talk about it, eh? Well, let them talk, they will never find out how it was done."
"You seem to go and come at your will."
"And why not? Have we not many friends still in Manila? If you knew the truth you would be surprised. Some day General Otis—" He broke off short. "Bah, I am talking too much, when it is you who must speak. Answer me, does your General Lawton command at the waterworks now?"
"I am sure you know everything, Captain Relosus, so what is the use for me to speak? I imagine you know more than I do, for I came from San Isidro but a few days ago."
"Ha! General Lawton was at San Isidro, I know that, and if you were with him and are now here, he must be here too." The Tagal captain grated his teeth. "We shall meet, and I will kill him!" he muttered in his native dialect. "And I will kill General Otis, too!"
"I should like to know what is to be done with me," said Ben, after another pause, during which the rebel began to pace the floor.
"What do I care what becomes of you, capitan? You have played your game and lost, and I must look ahead. One thing is sure—you shall not go back; have no fear on that score."
"But you will treat me as a prisoner of war?"
The rebel shrugged his shoulders. "What do you mean by that? When Santa Cruz was taken by your Lawton some months ago, what did they do to my brothers in arms? Sixteen were made prisoners, while forty-six wounded Tagals were shot or stabbed in the back. Ha! do not deny it, for it is true, true! And when Angat was taken, during the march on San Isidro, what happened then? Six innocent natives were slain, including a mother and her child. Your soldiers said it was an accident. Bah! Perhaps it will be an accident if you are some day shot in the back while you are a prisoner among us. You say we are butchers—that the Spaniards were butchers here and in Cuba! Your soldiers are just as bad, and some of your wild men from your Western states are worse! No, no, do not deny it, for I have seen these things with my own eyes." The Filipino shook his fists in Ben's face. "Perhaps you are not like some of them, but oh, when I remember what I have seen it makes my blood boil, and I would go out and kill, kill, kill, every Americano!"
The passionate outburst lasted for several minutes, and toward the end Captain Relosus spoke so rapidly, and in Spanish, that Ben understood only a small portion of what was said. At last the rebel turned on him sharply. "You will not speak? Very well, but the consequences will be on your own head. Do not forget that I gave you fair warning." With this he turned to the door and went out.
It must be confessed that the young captain was greatly downcast, nor did his spirits improve when two Filipinos came in with a rope and bound his hands behind him. Then he was forced into a sitting position on the wet flooring of the hut and tied fast to one of the corner posts. This work was just completed when several shots were heard, coming from a distance, and the rebels ran outside to learn what they meant.
Left to himself, Ben wondered what would happen next. He knew that the American forces at the waterworks intended to move before nightfall, but would they come in that direction, or strike out to the southeastward? The shots worried him also, for he could not help but connect them with the possible fate of poor Gilmore.
An hour went by, and the rain came down more furiously than ever, causing a pool of water to collect near the door of the nipa hut, the flooring of which was nothing but smooth mud. Nobody came near him, and he was half inclined to believe that something unusual had turned up and caused the rebels to retreat, leaving him deserted.
At last there was the sound of a caribao cart approaching, the caribaos splashing dismally through the mud and water of the trail. The cart halted close beside the nipa hut, and from under a rubber covering crawled a tall Spaniard wearing the uniform of a Filipino general. The Spaniard was followed by a short and exceedingly stout Tagal boy, carrying some luggage and a brace of old-fashioned army pistols.
"This is the spot, Carlos?" demanded the Spanish officer, of the cart driver.
"The
