CHAPTER XXIX
A STIRRING ADVENTURE IN MANILA
"What do you suppose those thieves intend to do with the uniforms they stole?" said Larry, as he and Ben moved down a side street not far from the prison in which Benedicto Lupez was confined. "They can't sell them and they certainly won't dare to wear them."
"I think they'll dare to wear anything while in the Filipino encampments, Larry."
"But can they get through our lines with the goods?"
"I am afraid so. You know the pickets can't cover everything, on very dark nights, no matter how sharp they are."
"Well, it's a funny steal, to my mind. Can it be possible that some of the natives intend to disguise themselves as United States soldiers and carry out some plot against us?"
"That might be so. But it would be a ticklish job."
So the talk ran on until they reached a corner upon which stood one of the numerous saloons which had opened since the American occupancy of Manila. Above the saloon were living rooms, and happening to glance at one of the windows Ben saw a dark, frowning face peering down at him. The face looked strangely familiar, and Ben pointed excitedly with his hand.
"Look, Larry! Who is that?"
Larry turned to gaze up, and by this time the face and form had been withdrawn.
"I see nobody, Ben."
"It was Benedicto Lupez!"
"Impossible! Why, he is in prison. I saw him there only two days ago."
"If it wasn't Lupez, it was his double."
"Perhaps it was José Lupez."
"No; the brother looks different. I am pretty certain it was Benedicto. And he wore a United States uniform, too!" added the young major, suddenly.
Without waiting to say more, he ran to the side door of the house, to find it tightly locked. Then he went around to the front and entered the saloon. Larry came behind him.
The resort was a low-ceiled apartment, badly ventilated, and reeking from the smell of beer and tobacco. Why such places were permitted to exist was a mystery to Ben and to all others who went in for order and decency. Behind the dirty bar stood a tall, lean, and yellow-faced Westerner, probr ably a man who had been run out of some mining camp for the good of the community at large.
"I want to go upstairs," said Ben, shortly. "How can I get up?"
"Wanter go upstairs, stranger?" drawled the man, eying the young major sharply. "Wot fer, ef I may enquire?"
"I want to see the man who is in hiding up there."
"Ain't no feller hidin' up thar, stranger. Must be some mistake."
"There is no mistake, and I shall go up," said Ben, quietly. "Come, Larry."
He started for the rear of the saloon, where there was a partly enclosed stairway leading upward. With a rush the keeper of the resort came from behind the bar and confronted him.
"Yer can't go up, an' thet settles it," he snarled.
Ben stepped back. "Do you know who I am?"
I won't waste words with you. Stand aside"Page 289
he asked. "I am Major Russell, and I shall go upstairs, even if I have to call in a regiment to keep order."
"Well—er—this here—" stammered the Westerner.
"I won't waste words with you. Stand aside."
The keeper of the resort stood his ground for a second longer. Then a vision of arrest floated over his mind, coupled with a closing of his establishment, and he shifted uneasily to one side.
"It's a mistake, I tell ye, major. Ain't nobody up thar," he said; but Ben did not hear him, for the reason that he was already halfway up the stairs, with Larry at his heels.
As the brothers gained the second floor, they heard heavy footsteps in a rear hallway, followed by the slamming of a door. Then came a murmur of low voices.
"This way!" cried Ben, and hurried through the back hallway, which was semi-dark. Finding the right door, he attempted to open it, but found it barred from within.
"Open that door," he commanded. Scarcely had he spoken when there was the crack of a pistol, and a bullet came through the door panel within six inches of his head. The discharge of the weapon was followed by more hasty footsteps and the slamming of a heavy wooden shutter.
"Oh, Ben, are you hit?" The cry came from Larry, and he clutched his brother by the arm.
"No," was the answer. "Run down and summon assistance. Be quick, or the man will get away!"
As Larry departed, leaping down the stairs three steps at a time, Ben stepped back and then hurled his whole weight against the door. It was a frail structure, and went down with a crash, sending the splinters in all directions. Pistol in hand, he leaped into the apartment, only to find it empty of human occupants. But on the floor rested several bundles, all containing uniforms—a portion of the lot stolen from the government storehouse.
The wooden shutter opened out upon a rear addition to the building proper—a sort of kitchen and restaurant combined. The roof sloped greatly, so that the back end was less than eight feet from the ground. As the young major peeped out he was in time to see two men leap from the addition into a narrow yard below. Both wore the uniforms of American regulars, but both were undoubtedly Spaniards.
"Stop!" cried the young officer, and leaping out on the roof of the addition, he took aim at the leading fugitive and fired. His aim was a good one, and the man went down with a groan, shot in the knee. Then the young major turned his attention to the second man, but that individual disappeared around the corner of another building, running with might and main to get out of range.
By this time the excitement in the street in front of the saloon was great, and it was an easy matter for Larry to obtain assistance. Several soldiers who happened to be at hand ran to the rear of the resort with him, and here Ben joined the party. The wounded man was left in care of one of the soldiers, and Ben showed the others the direction the second rascal had taken. But though the party hunted around for the best part of the day, no further trace of the man could be found.
On returning to the wounded one, it was found that he was a Spaniard named Marbon, who had been locked up in the prison with Benedicto Lupez. Both Lupez and Marbon had slipped away from the prison the night before, and, joined by two native sympathizers, had broken into the government storehouse and stolen the uniforms,—the natives taking the bulk of the goods, and Marbon and Lupez going in only to get suits with which to disguise themselves.
The natives had disappeared, leaving the uniforms where Ben had found them. These uniforms were afterward returned to the government, and General MacArthur, who was now in authority at Manila, ordered the saloon closed up, and the proprietor put under bonds pending a further investigation. In the end the Westerner was found guilty of aiding the enemy and sent to prison.
Marbon seemed to be rather a good fellow, and Ben felt sorry for him and saw to it that the Spaniard was given every comfort. In return for this Marbon one day said he would like to speak to the young major in private.
"I wish to tell you about Benedicto Lupez," said the Spaniard, when the two were alone. "He pretended to be my friend, but now I am sure he was more of an enemy to me. He used me only in order to help himself to escape."
Marbon then told what he knew of Benedicto Lupez's plans. He said that the two brothers, Benedicto and José had planned to meet at a village called Neritas, on the main road to Batangas, a town on the south coast of Luzon. When they got to Batangas, they were to board a small native ship and sail for Panay, another of the islands, where both felt they would be free from molestation, no matter what happened to the rebel cause in Luzon.
"José is afraid that the Filipino cause is lost," said Marbon. "He says he was a fool to buy a generalship in the army."
"Has he the money which was stolen by his brother?" questioned Ben, with deep interest.
"Benedicto said he had something like thirty-five thousand dollars in American money. The rest was spent."
"How did Benedicto and you hear from this José Lupez?"
"Through a native—one of the men who helped to steal the uniforms."
"Was it this native who helped you to escape from the prison?"
"Yes. He gave the keepers cigars which were heavily drugged and which made them stupid for hours. It was a clever scheme."
"Where do you think Benedicto Lupez is now?"
"Undoubtedly on his way to Neritas—if he can steal his way through the American lines."
"One thing more. Did you hear Benedicto Lupez say anything of my brother, Walter Russell, who was once the captive of José Lupez?"
"Yes, yes! He had a letter from José and in that José said the sailor boy was still in his power. He told Benedicto that he would keep the sailor boy a prisoner, and if Benedicto got into a bad corner, to call upon you, and get you to help him—or else the sailor boy would be tortured and killed."
"The wretch!" burst out the young major, and could not help but shiver; "I see through his plot. Perhaps he thought that at some time he could bribe me, through Walter, to aid Benedicto to escape from the American authorities."
"That is the point, Señor Russell; he is a deep one, trust my word for it."
A look of bitterness crossed Ben's face. "If this is true, it will go hard with my brother, now Benedicto Lupez is free. I should not be surprised if my brother was killed when the two Lupezes get together—they are so down on all of us." He paused for a moment. "How far is Neritas from here?"
This question Marbon could not answer, but the young major learned from others that the village was thirty miles to the southeast of Manila. For two-thirds of this distance the country was clear of insurgents,—but what was beyond nobody seemed to know.
Determined to act, and that quickly, the young officer interviewed his colonel, and both went to see General MacArthur. A private conversation lasting almost quarter of an hour ensued, and at the conclusion Ben was given permission to take his battalion from Tarlac, bring them to Manila, and then turn to the southeast and push on through Cavite Province and Neritas, in an endeavor to rescue Walter and bring Benedicto and José Lupez to swift justice.