CHAPTER II
LIEUTENANT GILMORE HAS A FALL.
As said before, the morning was a misty one, and there was every indication that a heavy downfall of rain was not far distant. The rainy season of the islands was at hand, and already the streams were much swollen and the trails "soppy" with the downfall of several days past. The bushes hung low with pearls of dew, and the young captain and his companion had not crawled far before they found their outer garments soaked with moisture. But to this they paid scant attention, for both had been wet many times before and their various campaigns had thoroughly toughened them.
On returning to Manila the members of Colonel Darcy's regiment had expected to remain there for some time. But in less than forty-eight hours the first battalion, under the command of Ben Russell's old friend, Major Morris, had been again ordered to the front, this time in the direction of the waterworks on the east of the city. Only a few months before, General Lawton had marched as far east as Santa Cruz on the Laguna de Bay and scattered the insurgents in all directions; but there had not been enough American troops at hand to garrison the towns taken, and now the rebels were coming back in greater numbers than ever, so that they threatened not alone the city's waterworks, but the very outskirts of Manila itself. The rebels in this territory were now under General Pio del Pilar, one of the shrewdest of Aguinaldo's followers and one who was as brave as any in the rebel ranks.
The advance of the first battalion had been ordered for four o'clock that morning, and by five the four companies found themselves about half a mile beyond the regular American outposts which General Otis had established. More troops were following, and presently Major Morris had called a halt on the road at a point where several trails led up from the lake. Then the major had come to Ben and asked him to go forward and reconnoitre, and the young captain had done so, taking his lieutenant with him, upon Gilmore's earnest request. Gilmore had recently been appointed first lieutenant, and was anxious to distinguish himself, although equally anxious, as can be surmised from his conversation, to keep himself from being shot.
Without a word, and with as little noise as possible, the young captain and his companion continued to crawl through the bushes until the rocks Ben had mentioned loomed up before them. Their ears were on the alert, but not a sound reached them.
Looking toward the rocks, Ben made out a narrow opening and pointed thither with his hand. Both approached it with caution, each with his pistol cocked and held out for instant use. But, so far as they could see, there was no enemy near the opening, and they passed through without molestation. Beyond the rocks was more brushwood, leading to a typical Philippine jungle.
The young captain had managed to retain his coolness, but it was plain to be seen that his lieutenant was growing more uneasy every minute. The silence was oppressive, if not suggestive, and Gilmore drew a long breath.
"Do you really think it's advisable to go ahead, captain?" he could not help but whisper.
"As I said before, you can go back if you wish," was the low answer. "I am going ahead and find out what I can for the major."
"But those rascals may be surrounding us on the quiet."
"Possibly, but, as I said before, we must take some risks. War isn't all fun and glory, and you ought to know it by this time."
"Do you see anything at all suspicious?"
"I do not."
"What do you suppose has become of that sharpshooter?"
"I hardly think he was a sharpshooter, his aim was so bad. More than likely he was some common soldier, who took to his heels as soon as he pulled trigger."
At these words the lieutenant breathed a bit easier, and the forward movement of the pair continued. Crossing a small stream, they gained the edge of the jungle and then moved in a semicircle to the left. A hundred feet were thus covered when Gilmore suddenly clutched Ben's arm.
"Stop! I saw somebody moving along the trees!" he whispered excitedly.
"Where?"
"Over yonder." And the lieutenant pointed with his pistol.
"Was it a rebel?"
"I couldn't make out exactly, it's so dark. But it was a man, and he had either a gun or a long club in his hands."
"Which way was he moving? "
"The same way that we are."
No more was said, but both dropped down, so that the bush growing under the tall trees might conceal them. It was dark in the jungle, but as they were nearest to the light, the young captain felt that so far as seeing was concerned, the enemy had the advantage of them.
More rocks had to be crossed, and Gilmore was stepping on these when one foot slipped and he came down heavily on his back. He uttered a sharp cry of pain, then rolled over on his side and slid into some tall grass at the foot of the rocks.
"Are you much hurt?" demanded Ben, anxiously.
"Oh, my back!" was the answer, with a long-drawn groan. "I struck my spine right on a sharp edge."
"Can you walk?"
"I—I'm afraid not, captain. "What a fool I was to let myself slip! I wish we were out of this!" And Gilmore gave another groan.
"Try standing up," whispered the young captain, sympathetically, and took hold of his companion's hand to assist him. Gilmore did try, but his pain was evidently intense, for with a shiver from head to foot he sank down again.
"I—can't make it, captain! Oh, what shall we do now?" and the speaker's face grew white.
"We'll do the best we can," returned Ben, trying to be cheerful, although he realized the gravity of the situation. It was hard enough for a man to take care of himself, let alone taking care of an injured comrade.
While speaking Ben had his eyes trained on the jungle behind him, and now, at a great distance, he saw a Filipino soldier sneaking along under the trees. The soldier was followed by three others, and the four disappeared almost as swiftly as they had appeared.
"You saw something?" queried Gilmore, watching Ben's face closely.
"Yes, four rebels, moving to the left."
"And armed?"
"Yes. They—there go some more! Six, seven, eight, nine!"
"It's just as I guessed—the jungle is full of them. Captain, we'll never get back alive!"
"Oh, don't give up yet, Gilmore."
"But I can't walk. What am I to do?"
"I'll carry you."
The lieutenant shook his head slowly. Then he essayed again to rise, only to fall back once more with a cry of pain.
Ben gazed around them, and at a short distance made out a hollow in the brushwood. "Come, you can hide there for the present," he said, "while I move around and try to find some safe way of getting back with you." Going ahead and leaving his companion to his fate was, to him, out of the question.
With as much care as a mother would use in handling her babe, the young captain bent over his lieutenant and raised him up. The motion gave Gilmore more pain, and the beads of perspiration stood out on the fellow's forehead. "It's awful! Oh!" he gasped. And he continued to groan as Ben advanced to the hollow.
"Now keep as quiet as you can," said Ben, as he laid the hurt one on the grass. "I am pretty sure we can get back all right if we watch our chances. It's going to rain, and a heavy shower will help us a good deal."
"Don't—don't leave me, captain!"
"I won't go far. I just want to reconnoitre a bit."
Ben felt that he had now a double responsibility upon his shoulders, and he did not leave the brushwood until he was certain none of the enemy were close at hand. Then, with pistol still drawn, he advanced toward the rocks over which they had made their way but a short while before.
On the other side of the rocks was a clump of three trees, with wide-spreading branches, some of which had bent down and reëntered the ground at a distance of several yards from the trunks. The trees were thickly interlaced with tropical vines, forming an ideal hiding-place for man or beast.
As the young captain stood near the rocks, he detected a movement in one of the trees. Then a low voice spoke up, in the Tagalog dialect.
"Do you see anything of the Americanos, now, Bambo?"
"lean see nothing—the mist is so thick," was the growling answer, in the same tongue.
"I feel sure the unclean ones came this way."
"Then where are they, Riva?"
"That we must find out. I will descend, while you can remain here on guard."
"As you will," grumbled he called Bambo. "But take heed that the unclean ones do not shoot you in the back."
The talking came to an end, and presently Ben saw the native named Riva letting himself down to the ground by means of the rope-like vines. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder and looked exactly what he was, a Filipino sharpshooter.
The young captain during his campaigns in Luzon had picked up a smattering of the Tagalog tongue, and while he did not comprehend all that was said, he understood enough to realize that the pair in the tree had been on guard and that they had seen both himself and Gilmore. Neither could be the man who had fired at them from the brush, and why they had not tried to bring down the Americans on sight was a mystery.
"They must be wanting to capture us alive," thought the young captain. "Perhaps their general is hungry for military {SIC|imformation|information}}. Well, they shan't get anything out of me, dead or alive."
It would have been an easy matter for the young officer to have killed the Tagal on the spot, but Ben was averse to taking the life of even an enemy in cold blood; and besides, he was afraid that a shot might cause a general alarm, to his own disadvantage and that of his helpless companion. He resolved to await developments, and with this end in view, crouched down behind the rocks out of sight.
He had not long to wait; for in a few minutes the Tagal came over the rocks slowly, gazing sharply to the right and the left and then ahead. Passing Ben, he kept straight on, moving in the direction where Lieutenant Gilmore lay concealed.