CONCLUSION
"Have your men fix their bayonets, Lieutenant Prescott!" commanded
Captain Freeman. "Fall in, men! We'll take the datto on the rush!"
As the Moros, reinforced by two score more who had rushed to the aid of
their leader, drew up for a last desperate stand before the house, the
door opened.
A stream of light from inside illuminated the scene.
Out bounded a man past middle age and of imposing appearance. Not even
his rich costume and flashing jewels were needed to proclaim that this
man was the datto himself.
Behind Hakkut came another and younger man, the datto's sword-bearer.
Hakkut was carrying his own heavy, straight-edged sword. For a moment or
two he stood blinking upon the scene of carnage and death below him as
he halted on his porch. Then his gaze swept to the regulars behind the
machine gun, standing alert with bayonets fixed, ready for that solitary
word "charge!"
Instantly the datto turned and shouted something to the younger man with
him.
In another moment the datto had placed the hilt of his sword against the
flooring of the porch, the point of the weapon up. The younger man knelt
swiftly, holding the sword in this position. Drawing back, the Datto
Hakkut hurled himself forward with great force, falling upon the point.
Then he tottered sideways, tumbling to the floor of the porch. The
younger man without hesitation drove a needle-pointed creese three times
into his ruler's breast. Withdrawing the knife, the sword-bearer then
killed himself.
"Charge, Lieutenant Prescott!" called Captain Freeman.
"Charge!" repeated the lieutenant. The line of bayonets swept forward,
but news of the death of the datto had already reached his would-be
defenders. The regulars swept through, meeting little resistance, for
hope had left the Moros with the passing of their savage prince.
In a twinkling the datto's house was in the hands of the regulars. Now a
corporal's guard could have held it, for the Moros inside the fort who
were still capable of fighting were throwing down their weapons in
despair.
"Round the prisoners up, Lieutenant Prescott," commanded Captain
Freeman. "I'll take some of your men and the Gatling to the gate to help
Lieutenant Holmes."
In truth the Gatling was now sadly needed at the gate, for Lieutenant
Holmes was having the fight of his life. Swarms of fanatic Moros were
attempting to rush the small party of regulars.
The Gatling, placed in a position commanding the gate and sweeping all
in front of it, soon checked the desperate attack at this point. The
Moros could yet swarm the walls on all sides, however. The fight was far
from won.
There was a chance still to close the huge wooden gate, and this Captain
Freeman, with a few of his men, succeeded in doing just as the Gatling
was withdrawn.
Suddenly it occurred to Captain Freeman that the night was passing and
that the first dull light of day was creeping over the scene.
At the commanding officer's side Sergeant Hal Overton reported, saluting
and saying:
"Sir, I have a suggestion to offer."
"State it, Sergeant."
"It seems like an almost dastardly thing to do, sir, but the death of
the datto stopped the fighting inside. Wouldn't it be a good plan, sir,
since the datto is assuredly dead, to have his body placed upon the top
of the wall and hurled over to the Moros outside? When they behold that
sight they may feel that their cause is gone."
"That is the best suggestion that could be made. You attend to it,
Sergeant."
"Very good, sir."
Lieutenant Prescott paused for a moment in the shelter of the datto's
porch. It had been warm work, and the young West Pointer was mopping his
face with his handkerchief.
At this juncture Hal appeared with four men.
"Pardon me, sir," he said, saluting the lieutenant, "I am acting by
Captain Freeman's orders."
With that the young sergeant pointed to the datto's body. The four men
lifted it, carrying it from the porch. Prescott asked no question, but
watched with interest what followed.
Across the yard Hal's squad bore the datto's body, to a point of the
walls where the regulars were making their fiercest fight to repulse the
Moros outside.
"Two of you climb up on the wall," Hal ordered. "The other two pass the
body up."
This was done.
"Over with it," Sergeant Hal commanded, and the body was hurled to the
ground outside.
An instant later there was a shout that was soon changed to a wail. In
the growing daylight several of the Moro fighters had recognized the
grisly message that had been hurled to them. Half a dozen fighting men
dropped their weapons, picked up the datto's body and hurried off with
it to a grove beyond.
Within two minutes the fighting had stopped. The Moros had fled to the
grove, from which a loud, nerve-racking wailing now ascended.
Captain Freeman climbed to the top of the wall.
"We could wipe them out by the hundreds with the Gatling now," he
remarked grimly. "However, I fancy it won't be necessary."
In half an hour the wailing of the Moros had ceased. They had gone
farther away, and the regulars were content to remain behind the walls.
While half of the effective troops were left on the walls, the other
half prepared and ate their breakfast from the abundant food supplies
found in the fort. After that the other half breakfasted.
That forenoon Lieutenant Holmes was sent out with a scouting force of
thirty men. Two hours later he returned, stating that he had been unable
to find any signs of the enemy.
In the afternoon Lieutenant Prescott and thirty men marched back to
camp. There they found the transport wagons and horses uninjured, and
returned with them to the fort after having set the half dozen native
prisoners free.
"I fancy the cruel war is over, gentlemen," remarked Captain Freeman
that evening to his two younger officers. "These Moros, like other
semi-savages, fight with heart only when they have a great leader. In
this way, the Datto Hakkut was a great man. For ten years he has been
the scourge of northern Mindanao, but now we shall have a rest from him.
He will never again disturb the peace of the island."
Early the following morning Lieutenant Prescott was sent out at the head
of forty men, Hal and Noll accompanying him. Unless attacked by superior
force this detachment was to remain out all day, scouting through the
country for signs of the enemy.
In the morning two native villages were found close to the principal
road through the mountains. As the natives appeared to have no weapons,
and offered no trouble, they were not molested.
"You may be sure, though, Sergeant Overton," remarked Lieutenant
Prescott, "that very nearly all of the men we have seen so far to-day
served lately under the datto. However, if they have learned a lesson,
and are now bent on peace, we won't molest them."
In the afternoon, as the detachment, moving at route step, reached the
crest of a hill those in advance came upon a party of Moros camped in a
grove by the road. These men, perhaps fifty in number, were preparing a
meal. They displayed no weapons.
"These men were undoubtedly recent fighters, too," remarked Lieutenant
Prescott. "However, we'll look them over to make sure that they have no
weapons now."
Hardly had the two sergeants started on their tour of inspection when
one man leaped suddenly from his seat on the ground and made off on a
run.
"There's the man we want!" yelled Hal. "Vicente Tomba, I call upon you
to halt and surrender!"
But Tomba, for it was he, continued to run fleetly.
"Bring that man down, if he won't stop!" commanded Lieutenant Prescott
sternly.
"Halt, Tomba, or we fire!" shouted Hal. "Ready, men! Aim! fire!"
Seven rifles spoke, almost in unison. Vicente Tomba pitched forward,
then fell. When examined he was found to have received four bullet
wounds. As he was dead, the soldiers buried him then and there.
"Men who are found in Tomba's company are subjects for suspicion,"
remarked Lieutenant Prescott dryly. "Though we've found no weapons with
this crowd we'll round 'em up and take 'em in."
This was done. Captain Freeman decided to read these natives a lesson
and then let them go.
"Why not make the rascals most humbly salute the Flag, sir?" suggested
Sergeant Overton respectfully. "I still have the Flag that the Moros
insulted."
"A good idea," nodded the commanding officer. "Get the Flag, Sergeant."
Over the late datto's fort the Stars and Stripes soon fluttered. The
troops were paraded to do the emblem honor. Then the Moro prisoners were
forced to pay it humble reverence, after which they were allowed, on
their hands and knees, to crawl out of the fort and find their liberty
outside.
"I'm sorry the datto didn't live a little longer," murmured Sergeant Hal
to his chum. "I'd have enjoyed seeing him salute the Flag fifty times
and then crawl away on his knees."
The following morning Captain Freeman marched his column back over the
many miles that lay between them and Bantoc. On a later morning of the
march the dusty column passed Draney's plantation. That adventurer
boldly hailed the officers as the troops marched by.
"I hear you've killed the datto," was the planter's greeting.
"Yes," responded Captain Freeman dryly. "There are a few others, though,
who deserve the same fate."
"We'll mix it up with that scoundrel yet," muttered Hal to his chum.
Back in Bantoc all was quiet again. Cerverra had been released with a
reprimand that he was not likely to forget. Now that the datto was gone,
the spirit was lacking for insurrection, and that part of Mindanao
settled down to quiet.
For how long? Undoubtedly the reader will discover in the next volume of
this series--a volume that will be filled with the lively doings of our
Army in the Philippines. This great tale will be published under the
title, "$1; Or, A Chance to Win Officers' Commissions." In this
forthcoming narrative the reader will meet several old friends and will
renew their acquaintance in the most startling situations.
THE END
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