The Campaign of the Jungle: or, Under Lawton through Luzon. Stratemeyer Edward

as he left them. I can swear I touched absolutely nothing,” answered Benedicto Lupez, earnestly.

      Larry was nonplussed. Had the Spaniard looked less of a villain, the young sailor would have been inclined to believe him. But that face was so crafty and calculating that he still hesitated.

      “Well, if you are innocent, you will not object to helping me rejoin our soldiers,” he ventured.

      “I want nothing to do with the Americanos, – they mean to get me into trouble, even though I am innocent,” growled Benedicto Lupez. “Come, José, we will go,” he added to his brother, in their native language.

      His brother was already at the doorway. The shouting and firing outside was increasing. Leaping forward, Larry caught Benedicto Lupez by the arm.

      “You’ll stay here,” he began, when the Spaniard let out a heavy blow which hurled the young sailor flat.

      “I will not be held by a boy!” cried the man. “Let go, do you hear?” For Larry had caught him by the foot. The boy’s hold was good, and in a trice Benedicto Lupez lay flat on his back. Then he rolled over and over and a fierce tussle ensued, which came to a sudden end when José Lupez leaped forward and kicked Larry in the head, rendering him partly unconscious.

      What followed was more like a dream than reality to the bruised youth. He heard a confused murmur of voices and a dozen or more shots, and then, as Benedicto Lupez and his brother ran off, several rebels swarmed into the hut, one stumbling over the lad’s form and pitching headlong. This insurgent was about to knife Larry when he saw that the young sailor’s eyes were closed, and that he was bleeding about the head.

      “Un Americano, and wounded,” he said, speaking in the Tagalog dialect. “If he lives, he may make us a useful prisoner;” and a few minutes later Larry felt himself picked up and borne away, first in a man’s arms and then on horseback. He tried to “locate” himself, but when he opened his eyes all went swimming before them, and he was glad enough to sink back once more and shut out the swirling sight.

      On and on, and still on went the rebels, some on foot and a few on their steeds. In front were a few wagons and caribao carts piled high with camping outfits, and also one or two light guns – all that had been saved from the garrison. General Lawton’s attack had been a brilliant success, and Santa Cruz itself had surrendered with hardly the loss of a man to the Americans. The troops coming in did their best to round up the insurgents, but they had scattered in all directions and only a few were caught, and these swore that they were amigos, or friends, and had to be given their liberty. This pretending to be friends after they were routed was a great trick with thousands of the natives. They would come into the American camp under the pretext that they had just escaped from the insurgents who had threatened to kill them if they would not join Aguinaldo’s forces. What to do with such people was one of the most difficult problems of the rebellion. They could not be placed under arrest, and yet that is what nine out of ten deserved.

      When Larry was once more himself he found that it was night. He was in a heap in a large casco which several Tagals were propelling with all speed across the Laguna de Bay. There were several other cascos in front and behind, all filled with natives with guns. The entire procession moved along in almost utter silence.

      The youth wanted to know where he was being taken, but no sooner did he open his mouth than one of the soldiers clapped a dirty hand over it and commanded him to be silent. As the soldier carried a bolo in his hand, Larry considered “discretion the better part of valor,” and for the time being, held his peace.

      A swarm of mosquitoes soon told the boy that they were approaching a marsh, and presently the casco ran in between the reeds and under some high, overhanging tropical bushes. Then those on board leaped ashore, and the youth was made to follow them.

      A weary tramp over the marsh and then up a high hill followed. The hill was covered with wild plantains, monstrous ferns, and a species of cedar tree, all thickly interlaced with the ever present tropical vines, which crossed and recrossed the tortuous path the party was following. Overhead the stars shone down dimly, while the forest was filled with the cries of the birds, the chattering of an occasional monkey, and the constant drone and chirp of the innumerable insects. The path was uneven, and more than once Larry pitched into a hollow along with the Tagal who accompanied him and who never let go his hold on the youthful prisoner.