CLEVERLY OUTWITTED
As Salas’ hand slowly drew his revolver from its holster, Phil’s right
hand with the speed of a mongoos seizing its prey clutched the slender
wrist of the outlaw; the lad’s left hand had moved deftly to the slack
of the native’s strong khaki trousers, and the next second he had
raised the surprised Filipino from off his seat and held him for an
instant balanced in the air.
“Turn her down-stream,” the midshipman ordered in a hoarse voice, as he
flung the struggling man into the water clear of the rocking boat.
Maria by a well-timed stroke had instantly spun the canoe about, and
all four bent desperately to their paddles. Phil saw the broad-brimmed
sombrero of their enemy floating on the surface and a fear instantly
filled his thoughts that Salas might not swim. The next second he was
reassured; the head of the native covered with thick black hair could
be plainly seen swimming toward the far shore; the menacing presence of
the crocodile had deterred him from attempting to reach the land but
a few strokes away. Every second the lad expected to hear a loud call
for help from the outraged officer. Phil, over his shoulder, measured
the distance yet to be gained by the struggling native. Why had he not
cried out a warning to his men? Surely they were within hearing; the
trail over which they had gone must be but a short distance from the
river.
Under the straining muscles of the midshipmen, helped by the swiftness
of the current, the canoe sped toward the grassy slope where their
horses were waiting. A bend in the river, and the swimmer disappeared
from sight.
“Why hasn’t he given the alarm?” Phil demanded nervously. “What does it
mean?”
“He will as soon as he reaches shore,” Maria gasped breathlessly. “The
monkeys when they fall in the water always scream, so Salas knows
better than to signal to all the crocodiles within hearing.”
Little Juan, try as he would, could not keep up with the furious pace
set him by his companions, and he lay quietly balancing himself in the
boat and gazing about him with frightened eyes.
The skiff was run full speed against the steep bank of the river, and
the midshipmen clutched eagerly the loose earth until Maria and her
brother had gained the shore. Then to their expectant ears there came a
loud halloo! from up the river.
“There’s no time to be lost,” Phil urged excitedly as he darted ahead
to where their horses had been tied. A sickening fear took possession
of him until he had climbed to the top of the slope.
“They’re here!” he cried joyfully, as he saw the five horses grazing
contentedly.
The midshipmen lifted Maria and her brother upon the backs of their
horses, cutting loose the hempen lariats with which they had been
tethered.
“Lead the way, señorita,” he cried hurriedly; “we must not spare
ourselves.”
For one second Phil lingered. The fifth horse, if he left it there,
would afford the means of catching other horses to pursue them; for he
knew that a single outlaw would not dare attempt to follow. With a few
swift strokes of his knife he severed the bridle and then with his open
hand struck the restless animal across the flanks. As he swung himself
into his saddle he saw it plunge eagerly away into the dense jungle,
happy to be again free of its domestic yoke.
As the lad dashed ahead after his companions, he heard the low moaning
note of the concha (a shell bugle), a signal of warning used by the
ladrones of the mountains. The sound was insidious. It seemed to come
from a long way off. Yet Phil knew the operator could not be a mile
away. The low tones were known to travel many miles, even farther than
the high notes of a bugle. To those whose ears had not been trained to
listen to the warning note, the sound might be mistaken for the coo
of a wood pigeon. The lad’s heart leaped as he foresaw that the two
men who had gone to bring the missing canoe were between them and the
only avenue of escape and their trained ears had already heard the
warning sound. If they had started back in the boat when they heard
the warning, they would remain concealed until the fugitives had drawn
within close range and then would open fire upon them. Even though the
persons of the party might escape the hastily aimed shots, the great
bulk of a horse could never escape and the crippling of one animal
would mean at the least their recapture, and probably death to all four.
With the energy of despair he drove his horse forward to join those in
the lead. Breathlessly, trembling with his terrible anxiety, he reached
Maria’s side.
“Do you know of any other road?” he gasped. “There!” he exclaimed
hopelessly, as a low coo came from the direction of the bungalow, “they
have answered.”
“I know of a road,” the girl returned breathlessly, “but it is across
the river, and is very narrow and uneven.”
Phil gazed frantically at the swift current as it appeared
intermittently through vistas in the trees while they sped along. Once
across undiscovered they would be safe.
“But Juan, he cannot swim; he will be afraid,” he cried hoarsely.
“Never fear for him. It was necessary Colonel Salas should think so
in order to persuade him to sit in front of you. He fell into my trap
very obligingly,” she returned, a half smile curving the corners of her
mouth.
“The river then is our only chance,” Phil declared decidedly. “It will
be death for us all to attempt to pass the two armed outlaws.”
“These horses are all good swimmers,” Maria answered hurriedly. “Just
hold on to the saddle and give them their heads. I know where we can
land, so follow me. Look out for Juan,” she ended in sisterly fear.
As Maria, followed by the midshipmen and Juan, forced her horse to
enter the forbidding river, a fusillade of rifle-shots sounded from a
point in the river some thousand yards above them, and the smack of
bullets struck the water close to the horses’ forefeet. A new danger
now confronted the fugitives. Those above them had discovered their
intention to cross the river. Fortunately as yet they were beyond the
effective range of rifles, but if the two men at the ranch should
discover the move they were making to put the river between them and
their enemies, they could quickly cross in their canoe and locate
themselves in the path of escape.
The horses drew back at first, erecting their ears and neighing
timidly, doubtless scenting the huge crocodiles hidden in the rank
growth upon the banks.
Phil heaved a relieved sigh as he saw Maria’s horse emerge from the
water on the far side, and scramble up the steep bank, the dripping
girl clutching securely the saddle.
Little Juan behaved like a veteran, guiding his horse with a gentle
hand across the current until the animal’s feet took the bottom on the
other side and when the horse’s back emerged, he was sitting again
securely in the saddle.
Just as Phil, the last to reach the shore, gained the steep ascent,
a sharp crack of a rifle, followed by a loud smack as the bullet dug
itself into the muddy soil, announced that those at the ranch had also
discovered their presence. As Phil drew himself into the saddle shaking
free his reins, a single swift glance down the river showed him the
two natives running toward the palm grove where the canoe was tied. A
few swift strokes and they would again bar the way.
“Come, Syd, we must ride ahead,” Phil cried in a fever of dread, as he
dashed by Maria and her brother. “Never mind what happens, señorita,
you ride on as fast as you can go,” he continued earnestly as Sydney
spurred ahead to join him. “We’ve got to turn those fellows back,” he
explained breathlessly. “If they succeed in getting across they will be
able to stop us completely.”
As the midshipmen galloped madly down the rough trail toward a clearing
in the trees from which they could get a clear view of their enemy,
both drew their revolvers and held them in readiness.
“Look out for your horse, Syd,” Phil continued; “he’ll probably balk
when we fire and to be unseated now would mean the end.”
As the two horsemen came into view of the boat the two natives,
half-way across the river, suddenly dropped their paddles. Two flashes
of flame and a light, filmy smoke told that their bullets had been
sent speeding in the midshipmen’s direction. But fortunately the
rocking canoe had spoiled their aim. The missiles sang harmlessly above
the lads’ heads.
On a mad gallop the two midshipmen rushed out upon the clearing,
revolvers in hand. As if on drill, the two horses were drawn back upon
their haunches and the Americans’ weapons spoke furiously--shot after
shot struck about the panic-stricken natives. They first attempted to
paddle away, but the close hiss of the bullets became more than their
waning courage could stand. Forgetting their rifles in their mad fear,
they jumped overboard and dived below the surface of the water, while
the empty canoe, in the grasp of the current, went sailing swiftly
down-stream, forever beyond their reach.
With wild exultation the midshipmen turned and raced after their
fleeing friends.
Darkness overtook them long before they could again recross the river
and take the wide trail on which it was possible to ride with greater
speed.
It was after midnight before the great house of Señor Rodriguez loomed
up ahead, and after they had been stopped a number of times by the
vigilant sentries they gained the hospitable roof.
After a hearty supper, which Maria insisted upon their eating, Phil
declared his wish to return to Palilo.
“But your boat has not returned,” Maria insisted. “You must sleep here
to-night, then you can return in the morning.”
Phil knew that O’Neil would not return until he had reached a depth of
water in the river too shallow for the gunboat to pass. How far would
he have to go? Maybe to the cañon beneath the insurgent stronghold.
In that case he could scarcely expect them before morning. A slight
uneasiness filled his thoughts, but he tried to put it aside, for
O’Neil’s ready resourcefulness could get them out of almost any
difficulty.
“It is important, señorita,” Phil declared firmly, “that I should
return to-night. I will leave a message for my men to follow down on
their return. May I have a boat or a couple of horses?” he asked.
Maria spoke a few words to an attendant.
“Lopez will guide you,” she answered. “I am sorry you will not stay,
but you, of course, know best.”
Señor Rodriguez, after he had been told of the miraculous escape of
the explorers, shook the lads warmly by the hand, and thanked them for
taking care of his two children.
“It was the other way around,” Sydney cried in admiration. “Your
daughter really saved us and herself, too. If it had not been for her
we should have blundered into a fight with the ladrones and been killed
for our pains.”
The old man shook his head thoughtfully.
“Salas, eh? So he is with Espinosa. The two blackest rogues we have in
the islands. You are lucky to be free of them.”
“How many men have you guarding your plantation?” Phil inquired, his
mind bent upon the possibility of an attack.
“I have five hundred men, but only three hundred rifles,” Rodriguez
replied. “Captain Blynn will send sufficient guns to arm all the men
by to-morrow. I do not fear an attack until after Espinosa is more
recovered. My spies report that he is still suffering from his wound.
I suppose I must expect an attack eventually,” he added sadly, gazing
lovingly at his daughter and little son.
Within the hour, Lopez appeared and reported all was ready for the trip
to Palilo.
“If you want more men,” Phil suggested, “I can speak to Major Marble,
the adjutant-general. But I, myself, hope soon to be anchored off your
house in the ‘Mindinao.’”
Lopez’s old eyes opened wide. “A gunboat has not been for many years up
this river,” he said gravely. “The Spaniards built the bridge after the
bloody fight at Matiginao over thirty years ago. It is said that many
rocks were placed in the channel by the natives at that time, and after
the Spaniards found the river was blocked for their gunboats they built
that bridge to endure. It is all of stone and iron. A steam-launch can
barely pass through the archway.”
Phil’s heart sank. The channel blocked with rock! If this was true only
a careful survey could assure safety for the gunboat. The lead might
easily miss the shallow places while the gunboat would discover the
obstruction for the first time with its frail bottom.
The lad shook hands with the dignified old man. They regarded him
almost with reverence. Had they not seen him stand bravely before a
score of his countrymen, who he knew would like nothing better than
to murder him, and tell them boldly that he was for the right even if
to be so would cause him to be called a traitor! Now he had declared
for the American cause and almost every influential native’s hand was
against him.
Maria went with them to where the grooms held their horses.
“Señorita, we can never thank you enough,” Phil declared gladly. “You
are forever putting us in your debt.”
“Ah, you have forgotten the night you saved Colonel Martinez,” she said
softly, and Phil imagined in the moonlight that her eyes shone brighter.
“By Jove, Phil!” Sydney exclaimed eagerly a moment later, after they
and Lopez had swung themselves into their saddles and were trotting
down the broad roadway, “I didn’t believe it was in any girl to have
such grit, least of all one of her race. How on earth did you come to
think of such a trick as you played on that dapper little colonel?”
Phil smiled deliciously.
“That was planned telepathically between the señorita and me,” he
replied. “She purposely sat in front of Salas and I was placed behind
him; reason one. She knew that I knew if Salas remained in that
canoe we would all be made prisoners, and as Espinosa would be our
jailer--well! The crocodile was sent by a kind Providence, but if not
one way it would have been another. The idea occurred to me and I
firmly believe that she divined what I was about to do, for did you see
her spin the canoe about so as to get out of the colonel’s reach when
he was sent floundering in the water? She first induced him against
his caution and better judgment to trust himself alone with us in one
canoe.”
“But why didn’t he disarm us?” Sydney questioned perplexedly.
“I dare say he wonders why he didn’t too, by now,” Phil laughed. “Maria
threw him quite off the scent, apparently. These brown fellows are
very keen on dramatic scenes, and he doubtless thought it would be a
fine situation to spring the fact that we were prisoners when we had
arrived in Espinosa’s presence.”
The guide Lopez rode silently at their side. The lads were too much
occupied to give him more than a passing thought until the road emerged
from the woods of the valley and wound gradually around a hill which
was half-way between Rodriguez’s ranch and Palilo. Their conversation
had flagged; for the first time they realized that they needed sleep.
After their hard ride they felt tired and stiff. By mutual consent they
stopped on the crest of the hill. Phil took out his watch and held it
up to the moon’s rays.
“Two o’clock!” he exclaimed. “Not much sleep for us to-night.” Then a
look in Lopez’s face caused him alarm. He saw the native, eyes intent
on the horizon from which they had come and his hands pressing forward
his ears, apparently trying to intercept a sound which he had either
heard or imagined.
Phil was about to ask an eager question but before he could speak he
was answered by a distant rumble from the direction of the ranch. Again
and again the slight sound trembled on the still night. Like statues
silhouetted against the sky, for a second or more the three men sat
transfixed with apprehension. Then as one man they whirled their
horses about and galloped madly back over the road in the direction
from which they had come. That far-distant sound could have but one
interpretation;--the Rodriguez ranch was being attacked, and they might
be needed.