COLONEL MARTINEZ
Maria watched with a heavy heart her young friend Phil Perry go
cheerfully away to put himself in the hands of the cruel native leader
in his endeavor to save the life of a brother officer.
“I never expect to see him alive again,” she whispered sorrowfully to
her small brother as he stood with big round eyes of wonder gazing at
the military preparations for the attack on the insurgent stronghold.
The next day she and Juan gazed wistfully after the long column of
khaki-clad American soldiers as they filed silently past the ranch
house, taking the trail over which she and her American friends had
ridden so merrily but a few days before.
The guard left at the ranch, consisting of two companies of soldiers,
quietly stationed its sentries and took up the monotonous routine of
guarding the many supplies which were arriving by boats from Palilo.
For several long hours the girl brooded over the situation, wondering
how she could aid the friends for whom she had learned to hold a high
regard. Bemoaning the fate that had made her a helpless woman, she
took Juan by the hand and strolled away up the wooded slope toward the
family burying grounds where the body of her father peacefully rested.
Reaching the newly made mound she placed upon his grave the handful of
flowers which she had gathered. In her heart was a great bitterness.
Juan, too young to appreciate the magnitude of his loss, chased
gleefully the monkeys which chattered in the trees about him, leaping
almost into his arms as they eluded his embrace. Following her brother
Maria listlessly strolled farther into the gloom of the forest.
Suddenly a low whistle from deeper in the woods attracted her
attention. With startled eyes she stopped, her head erect and her bosom
heaving in sudden fright.
[Illustration: _A MAN STEPPED SILENTLY FROM BEHIND A TREE_]
A man stepped silently from behind a tree and walked toward her. With a
glad cry she ran to him. It was the officer known to the Americans
as Colonel Martinez.
“I have heard,” he said sorrowfully as the girl incoherently sobbed
the sad news of her father’s death. “I would have come sooner, but I
believed the Americans would have been strong enough to prevent it.”
“His last words were for you, Gregorio,” Maria whispered as he patted
caressingly her straight black hair. “He hoped that you would follow
his example and surrender to General Wilson. Why do you not take your
own name again?”
“Sister,” the insurgent officer answered earnestly, “when my father
disowned me for fighting under Aguinaldo in the north, I took the name
of Remundo, and because I would not surrender after most of my men had
been killed or captured I have been declared by the government of the
islands an outlaw, and a price was put on my head. I am accused of many
crimes of which I am not guilty. I have an enemy, who now stands high
in government favor. It was he who harried the country using my name
falsely, and for his deeds I am blamed. Captain Blynn has my written
proofs. So you see I could not comply with our father’s wish before,
but now I am willing to lay down my life in order that Juan Rodriguez’s
soul may rest in peace, which it cannot do until his murderer has
received his just punishment.”
While they talked Gregorio Rodriguez had taken the small hand of Juan
in his own, leading his sister along a tiny trail away from the river.
“I have a few trusty followers awaiting me a short distance beyond,”
he added, “and I wish you both to come with me. Your lives are too
precious to allow you to be out of my sight.”
Maria smiled happily and pressed her brother’s hand.
After a quarter of an hour’s walk the forest opened and they found
themselves in the midst of a company of native soldiers. The men arose
from the ground as their leader passed, doffing their hats to the woman
walking so proudly with their officer. Gregorio stood silently in their
midst, holding up his hand to demand attention.
In a few short lines he told his men of his real identity and of the
horrible murder of his father by Espinosa; of the expedition which he
had watched start out to attack the stronghold. To serve their best
interests, he told them he should surrender with his force to the
Americans, who would give them all fair and honorable treatment. Then
he raised his voice and excitedly cried:
“Those who still desire to fight against their own interests under a
traitor and a murderer may go forth unmolested. At once!” he cried,
pointing to the trail leading inland, while his black eyes flashed.
Not a man gave ground; all looked trustfully up to their leader.
“Viva los Americanos,” one shouted and the woods rang with their lusty
cheers.
“Will you come to the ranch with me and surrender there to the
Americans?” Maria asked, after the cheering had died away.
Gregorio shook his head.
“My first quest is Espinosa,” he replied earnestly. “At once we shall
march toward the stronghold. If he is captured or killed in the battle
I shall seek General Wilson and surrender myself and men. If Espinosa
escapes I shall follow him to the death.”
Maria knew the native spirit too well to attempt to urge her brother to
give up this perilous quest of their father’s murderer, so she bowed
her head submissively.
An hour saw the band on the march, with Maria and Juan mounted on two
ponies; quietly the native soldiers led by Gregorio Rodriguez circled
the Americans encamped at the ranch and struck the trail taken in the
morning by Captain Blynn and his five hundred soldiers.
Long before they came in sight of the stronghold the distant rumble of
musketry and the thunder of artillery told them of the struggle at the
top of the mountain.
Despairing of reaching the battle-field by the treacherous trail
already covered by the Americans, Gregorio led his party to high ground
across the valley from Matiginao. They arrived breathlessly at the
summit and viewed the distant figures of men fighting in a hand-to-hand
struggle.
Maria gasped in fear as she comprehended the awful sight of the
struggle.
“The Americans are victorious,” Gregorio exclaimed excitedly as he
saw the wave of khaki sweep from two sides across the broad plateau.
He saw the native insurgents huddled together in the centre of the
American soldiers. But his eager eyes followed a small band of
Americans and natives on the right of the mountain; he saw the natives
in front of them give way slowly, contesting the battle-field foot by
foot, while behind them he saw several score more of natives reach the
edge of the plateau and rapidly disappear down the sheer side of the
cliff.
“They are escaping,” he cried in sudden alarm. “See, they are holding
the Americans back to give those fleeing time to escape. It’s
Espinosa,” he shouted hoarsely, beside himself with apprehension.
Between him and the valley at the foot of the precipice, Gregorio knew
were many miles of impenetrable jungle, through which there was no
trail. Yet he must push through this formidable barrier in an effort to
cut off his enemy’s escape. Calling up one of his trusty lieutenants he
gave Maria and Juan in his charge.
“Take the trail and join the Americans,” he ordered his sister.
“Come,” he commanded, selecting a score of men by a motion of his
hand. In another minute Gregorio, followed obediently by his selected
followers, had plunged through the dense woods straight down the
mountainside toward the avenue of escape over which Espinosa would soon
be traveling, while Maria and her guard left their place of vantage and
headed for the distant mountain top now in the hands of Captain Blynn
and his victorious men.
Laboriously, but spurred forward by the eagerness of their leader,
Gregorio and his small band toiled through the dense jungle. The
distance was slowly covered and, almost exhausted, they were finally
rewarded by reaching the trail leading from the stronghold to the
northward.
Gregorio uttered an exclamation of surprise as his knowledge of
woodcraft told him that a large force of men had recently passed over
this road. Surely he had seen but a few score escape from the plateau.
Nothing daunted, in the lead, he urged his men forward. He would
attack, no matter what were the odds against him. Espinosa should not
escape!
After several hours of strenuous marching a straggler was found on the
side of the trail and after a hasty interview gave the anxious native
the good tidings that Lopez was ahead on the same quest as himself.
Hurrying forward, most of the time on a run, he overtook his father’s
faithful servant just before darkness arrived, and together,
unsparingly, they urged onward their tired men.
Gregorio’s keen eyes were ever on the trail; in his heart was a
desperate resolve. The thought of escape of Espinosa maddened him
beyond endurance. The newly made grave in the family burying grounds
spurred him on to almost superhuman exertions. Lopez, hardened as he
was to toil in the fields, kept pace with his untiring young master,
but many of the pursuing natives were left far behind.
“We are nearly to Banate,” Lopez said intensely as they saw the high
jungle slowly merge into nipa swamp. The cocoanut palms were becoming
more and more infrequent and the mud of the trail clung to their tired
feet.
So silently had they approached the little settlement at the foot of
the hills rising from the delta of the river that the sudden barking
of a dog caused them to stop in consternation.
With eyes open wide with anxiety and apprehension, Gregorio and Lopez
pressed onward through the narrow street. They saw the natives were not
as yet awake, the houses were closed and no human being was visible. On
the ocean beach they saw many native boats hauled high above the tide.
Anxiously they visited each in turn, but all were abandoned.
The sandy soil gave them no news of their quarry. Many footmarks
were evident, but the tracks were so crossed and recrossed that even
Gregorio gave up all hope of learning from them the direction taken by
Espinosa and his men.
Gregorio stood in deepest dejection at the edge of the beach; his eyes
sorrowfully scanned the dark waters. Had Espinosa turned off into
the jungle, allowing him to go by, chuckling in his sleeve at the
cleverness of his ruse? or had he embarked, and was he now sailing
rapidly away toward freedom and wealth? Many of the straggling natives
had now gathered about their chief and waited for his orders. They had
ruthlessly entered the huts of the sleeping villagers and had dragged
several of them trembling before their leaders.
“But a half hour ago a large proa was launched from down the beach,” a
native villager spoke up. “It had been waiting, and we were commanded
to keep indoors on penalty of being shot. Through my bamboo shutter I
saw it start.”
Gregorio waited for no further words. Hastily turning to Lopez and
Garcia he cried eagerly:
“Light three fires on the top of the hill, the signal to the gunboat.”
Then without spoken orders a half score of men helped the anxious
Gregorio launch one of the small fishing boats lying high on the beach.
As Lopez and his men hurried away, the native boat, with Gregorio at
the helm, hoisted its bamboo sail to catch the light morning breeze and
disappeared into the night.