BETWEEN TWO FIRES.
“I don’t know much about this part of the country,” said Dan, as we
drew away from the American camp with great caution. “I wish we could
pick up a native guide. He might save us from a lot of trouble.”
“There are natives enough around, if only they can be trusted. Let us
strike the first man we meet and see what he has to say.”
Leaving camp was an easy matter, for as yet military rule was rather
lax. We took a small side trail, that presently brought us in sight of
a collection of rude bamboo huts, one burning and all deserted. Back of
the huts we found a tall negro sitting on a tree stump, his lean chin
resting in the palm of an equally lean hand.
Dan called to him in Spanish, but the man did not stir until my chum
walked up and shook him by the shoulder. Then he stared at us from eyes
buried deeply in their sockets.
His tale was soon told. His wife had been shot down in a skirmish
around the bamboo huts on the day that the Spanish soldiers had
retreated from Cavité to Manila, and his only child had been trampled
under the feet of a runaway buffalo cow, a beast quite common in
certain parts of the Philippines. His home was that now being reduced
to ashes.
“Your lot is certainly a hard one, my man,” said Dan to him soothingly.
“But it will do you no good to sit here and mourn. What is your name?”
“Wamba, señor.”
“Would you like to become our guide, Wamba? We will pay you well?”
At this the eyes of the native brightened somewhat, for he was of the
poorest class.
“You will pay me well?” he asked slowly.
“We will.”
“You will not pay me in _chit_?” went on Wamba. In Manila many large
bills are paid in _chit_, instead of coin, a _chit_ being merely a
personal note. These _chits_ are issued by nearly everyone, and float
around from person to person before being presented to the issuer for
redemption.
“No, you shall have coin--gold and silver,” and Dan showed the contents
of his purse, which contained several Mexican silver dollars, and some
Spanish gold and copper coins.
“And where shall I guide you?”
“We want to go into Manila secretly.”
“You are soldier spies?”
“No, we are private citizens and want to learn something of business
matters. Our fathers belong to the firm of Raymond, Holbrook & Smith,
of Manila, Hong Kong, San Francisco, and other cities.”
“I know the name, señor,” and Wamba nodded. “But the business must be
ruined now,” and he gave a deep sigh.
“That is what we want to see. Will you undertake to get us into Manila?
Remember, I will pay you well.”
“I will do what I can, but it will be a dangerous undertaking.”
The talk between the native and Dan continued for some time, and then
we hurried on, leaving the trail and passing over the wet ground of a
rice field recently flooded.
It was again hot, and after half an hour of traveling I was glad enough
to cast myself in a shady spot to rest. While Dan did the same Wamba
went off in search of cool water from a nearby spring.
“I suppose things in Manila are in a state of high excitement,”
observed my chum, as he lay back against a tree. “The Spaniards are in
a box--with the American fleet in front and the rebels behind.”
“I think they would rather surrender to us than to the rebels, Dan.”
“I’ve no doubt they would. But they’ll surrender to nobody until forced
to do it. They are as high-minded as ever, if I know anything about it.”
“Business must be at a complete standstill. Perhaps the Spanish
authorities have confiscated everything at the offices.”
“I wonder what has become of Tom Dawson, Matt Gory, and the
_Starlight_? I didn’t see anything of the craft while on the _Boston_,
did you?”
“No. She probably lost no time in slipping past Corregidor Island when
it was known that a fight was in prospect.”
“And what do you suppose has become of Captain Kenny, Watt Brown, and
Ah Sid, who were captured?”
“That is for time to tell, if we are ever to know at all.”
Wamba came back with the water, into which we stirred some sugar-cane
ends to make it more palatable, and we arose to continue our journey.
“What’s that?” cried Dan, as the crack of a rifle broke the
semitropical stillness. “Some sort of a battle is on, that’s certain!”
The single report was followed by several others, and then came two
heavy volleys in rapid succession.
“I’ll wager it is a fight between the insurgents and the Spanish
outposts!” I cried. “Hark, they seem to be coming this way. Wamba,
what had we best do?”
The native looked at me in perplexity, and Dan repeated the question in
Spanish. Then Wamba pointed off to the woods back of us. “We hide in
hollow,” he said, in his native tongue.
We lost no time in following him, for the sound of firearms came
closer, and soon a bullet clipped through the leaves over our heads. As
we descended into the hollow to which the guide led us we heard a wild
shouting, and at a distance a hundred or more Tagals burst into sight.
The natives were armed with rifles secured at Cavité and in Manila,
and were endeavoring to turn the right flank of a company of Spanish
soldiers, who soon came into view on the opposite side of the hollow.
The firing was now incessant, and all three of our party were glad
enough to drop down out of sight in the dense bushes.
“We are caught between two fires!” announced Dan grimly. “Here’s a
state of things, to say the least. Oliver, how do you like it?”
“We had better remain quiet, Dan. I have no desire to get a Mauser
bullet through my head.”
“Nor I. I only hope both sides move off to some other locality.”
The hollow was of indefinite length and about a hundred feet wide and
ten to twenty feet deep. The Tagals were close to the south bank, while
the Spaniards held a position a hundred and fifty to two hundred yards
away. In fifteen minutes the volley firing ceased, but a steady pop-pop
from one direction or another took its place.
“Each side is throwing out skirmishers,” said Dan. “If any of them come
down here I don’t know what we had best do!”
“If it comes to the worst we’ll have to throw our fortunes in with the
rebels,” I answered. “But I have no liking for either side.”
We were armed with pistols, fine six-shooters, and we held these in
readiness for use, should occasion require. Wamba acted as if he wanted
to leave us, but doubtless the hope of getting money out of us made him
remain.
As I have said, the natives were closer than the Spanish, and
presently a dozen of them slipped down into the hollow. They were
determined-looking fellows, much superior to the Tagals I had met up at
the locality where the _Dart_ lay stranded.
“They are coming this way!” whispered Dan. “I’m afraid, if they spot
us, they will fire before we can explain who we are.”
“We had better--” I began, when pop! went a rifle, and a bullet grazed
my temple, causing me to tumble over my chum and go crashing in the
brush back of him.
“Oliver! you are hit!” he gasped. “Oh, this is too bad!” and he caught
me up in his arms.
“I--I guess it’s not much,” I faltered, putting my hand up and
withdrawing it covered with blood. Getting out a large linen
handkerchief, I bound it over the wound, which was but a scratch, even
though fully as deep as was desirable.
The crash in the brush had attracted the attention of the Spanish
soldiers, and now they saw the Tagals and heavy firing recommenced. We
were in the very midst of this, and several bullets sang alarmingly
close to our ears. We wished that a better shelter than the brush was
at hand, but nothing was in sight and we had to make the best of it.
Inside of a quarter of an hour it looked as if the rebels would get the
best of the fight, but suddenly some Spanish re-enforcements came up,
and in a twinkling the Tagals were sent flying toward the hills to the
eastward, leaving a score of dead and wounded behind them.
“They are leaving us!” muttered Dan, when without warning several
Spanish soldiers appeared, running directly toward us. Each had his gun
up ready to shoot, so resistance would have been foolhardy.
“_Halte!_” came the useless command, since we were not moving. “Throw
down your arms or we will fire,” followed, also in Spanish.
Dan looked at me and I at him, and then both of us dropped our pistols.
Seeing this, Wamba uttered a grunt of dissatisfaction, turned, and
crawled like a snake out of sight into the bushes. In a moment more the
Spanish soldiers had surrounded us.