a day,—and still the silence continued. What if the sailor should lose his way or become captured, and so never come back? The cold perspiration gathered on Walter's forehead at the thought. He was helpless—he could not do the first thing for himself. He would have to remain where he was, in that lonely spot, to die!
"I don't believe I'll ever get to see Ben and Larry again," was his bitter soliloquy. "And they'll never get the straight of it how I died. Oh, if only this cruel rebellion was over and we were all safe at home once more!"
From where he lay Walter, could see over several bushes to a distant hill, overgrown with short shrubbery. Presently he made out a movement on this hill.
"The rebels!" he muttered, and tried to raise himself on his elbow. He was right; over the hill marched a band of sixteen Filipinos with several prisoners among them. The whole party was in sight for several minutes. Walter tried to make out the faces of the prisoners, but the distance baffled him.
"Si may be among them," he mused. "Well, it's hard to tell who is the worst off just at present."
