The Moros did not, however, make any advances until the night of August
12, when the most appalling and most ghastly murder that has ever been
witnessed took place about two hundred yards from the camp. The moon had
disappeared temporarily behind a dark cloud, the men had all retired for
the night, and everything seemed tranquil, when suddenly the camp was
aroused by the firing of shots in rapid succession by the members of the
outpost.
The trumpeter was now calling every slumberer to arms, and in a few
moments the entire garrison was ready for action. The cries of the men
for help and the crashing of the bolos and spears could be heard in the
calmness of the dark stilly night. There was no time for idle thoughts,
no time to be wasted, for it was evident from their appealing cries that
the members of outpost No. 4 had been attacked by the blood-thirsty
Moros.
Lieut. Bickham, commanding Company "F," proceeded in all haste to cross
the deep ravine and re-inforce the brave men, who, though outnumbered by
a large majority, were nevertheless fighting desperately for their
lives.
They arrived on the scene too late to prevent the massacre and death of
their fallen comrades, for the savages had by this time made well their
escape, after performing one of the most savage, most treacherous and
most blood-curdling deeds, that has ever hitherto been recorded in the
pages of bloody history.
Not content with killing their victims, they had cut them with their
bolos and long spears, until their bodies were beyond recognition. The
killed were Sergeant Foley and Pvt. Carey of Co. "G," 27th U. S.
Infantry, men whose gallantry, kindness, bravery, and social
disposition had won for them the admiration of not only the members of
their own company, but of everybody who knew them.