But was this to be our last battle with the Moros? Was this to be our
last fight in the desolate island of Mindanao? No! No! far from it.
There yet remained another, and the stumbling block of them all, who was
at this time bidding defiance to all invaders, in his fort across the
lake, where we could see, from our present position, the red flags of
battle waving before the gentle zephyrs of the orient.
This was the Sultan of Maciu, Maciu the warlike, who had hitherto held
his stronghold and expansive territories with creditable success for
centuries against even the haughty Spanish soldiers. But his day of
gloom was fast approaching, when he and his clan of bolomen would be
compelled to submit to the sons of America, as will be seen by the
ensuing pages.
Soon after Fort Bayubao had been taken the column pressed onwards, down
the rugged slope of the trail, leading into the fort, and here, being
dust-stained, weary, and footsore, we were glad to encamp for the night.
But only a few of us slept, for the Moros delivered a steady fire on us
from the surrounding brush through the night.
The welcomed morning broke bright and clear over the waters of Lake
Lanao, and the soldiers of "Columbia" awoke from a dreamy and restless
slumber at the first notes of the bugle. Preparations for the attack on
the Sultan of Maciu were immediately begun, but with little or no
success, as the trail leading through the thickly wooded flats was
blocked in such a way that it was an impossibility for even the Infantry
to force their way through.
The Moros, having seen the column advancing on them, set to work to
block the trail leading from Bayubao to the Maciu fortress, thinking
that the Americans might on reaching this now impassable entrance,
decide to return again to Camp Vicars after failing to reach the much
talked of stronghold.