CHAPTER XXVIII.
TREED BY BUFFALO BULLS.
"This silent inaction is growing monotonous."
It was Dan who spoke, and he addresed me, while both of us and Matt Gory took it easy in front of a deserted house we had chanced upon on a side road some miles away from Manila.
After burying Gaston Brown our flight had taken us to the north, and we had rested at the house for two days, undecided what to do next.
"If we try to move past Manila and toward Cavité, we'll run into both rebels and Spaniards, and I don't want to do that," I said. "I am rather sick of this fighting."
"So am I, Oliver. But we must do something. We can't sit here and suck our thumbs."
"Let us try to make our way up past Subig Bay to the coast and find out what has become of the Dart."
"Sure, an' that same suits me," put in Matt Gory. "Oi wants that dudeen of mine th' worst way, so Oi do. Bad cess to any haythin' as has stholen th' same!" He spoke of his old pipe
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