Moriarty was waiting for me, and, when Moriarty does not smile, I know
what to expect.
"Cap'n," he said, "it's not Moriarty that can sleep peaceful the night
till we find them, dead or alive."
"And I, too, if you please, Cap'n," said Davis, my corporal, who had
been listening.
"There is no need for a call then, men," I said, "we three will go down
to the village, we will doubtless find them near it. A Krag for rapid
firing and two Colts each," I added, "and plenty of shells. Don't let
the other men know; we'll be back by midnight."
As we slipped out of the lines of camp I saw a thing that touched me.
Moriarty had stopped at the long, slim, blue-barreled rapid fire and for
a moment, lingering over it, one arm around it, he laid his cheek
against its lips. It was Moriarty's farewell kiss to the only bride he
had ever known.
*CHAPTER VII*
*THE JURAMENTADOS*
There was a mistiness among the mango trees as we went out into the
moonlight. It was a mist from the ocean, but it made an uncanny
milkiness in the air, which seemed to cling to the long dew-damp leaves
of the tropic trees as we descended into the Labanyon Valley; and that
queer uncanniness stayed with me. I could not throw it off.
At the picket line I left a note to be carried back with the relief. It
was to my First Lieutenant, explaining my absence and stating that, if I
were not back by daylight, he was to assume the command. And if, before
daylight, he heard any continual rapid fire, he was to send the company
to the sound of it, for it would mean that we needed help.
The picket would be relieved at midnight. I asked him not to awaken
Lieutenant Clarke until then.
"Captain," said the picket, touching his cap, "excuse me, but if you
weren't here I'd arrest Moriarty and Davis and send them back into camp.
'Tis a fool thing they are doing."
"But what about our comrades out there, cut off, doubtless, and
surrounded by these savages?"
"Then why not take a company?" he asked respectfully.
"They'd be butchered," said Moriarty. "It's the three of us slippin'
around an' nosin' in that can save 'em if we find 'em. And with these
rifles and six Colts we'll be all of a company for arrows and bolos."
"Look," said the sentinel, "do you see that?" He pointed to a dim red
star, glowing just above the mountain top. "That's a signal fire--and
that, and that. Captain," he pleaded earnestly, "go back and let the
boys all go with you. It's a fool thing, but if you will go--now
listen--when I hear you shoot, if shooting is on, I am going to fire and
waken the camp; the boys will want to come to your relief."
Moriarty laughed. "Now don't let your old gun go off too suddent loike.
We'll be back without firin' a shot!"
But I, Eloise, as I went down into that valley, became for a moment all
but a weakling when I thought of you! We went quietly out into the
moonlight, slipping along from the shadow of one great mango to another.
Sometimes these trees made a continuous shadow--so thick they were--and
our going was easy. But when we emerged into a moonlit space we stooped
and crawled through the high grass, for we were an easy target for their
sharpshooters on the peaks above.
We were fully a mile from camp before we crossed a _crevasse_, about
twelve feet wide, spanned by a culvert or small bridge. I remember
noticing the little bridge and thinking that if it should be burnt by
the enemy in our rear, we would never be likely to get back into our
camp again.
There was a Filipino village which lay off to the left in a mountain
gorge, and, scouting carefully around the side of the mountain, we
approached it over the last one-hundred yards, crawling through the
grass and under mango and cocoanut trees up to within fifty yards. It
lay before us, a dozen shacks on bamboo cane shocked with the coarse
straw of the rice stalk. The usual squalor and emptiness was around,
but there was not a sound, not a living thing. Moriarty nudged me.
"There's hell in there somewhere, Cap'n," he whispered, "it looks too
peaceful loike."
It was a Filipino cur that gave us the first clue. They are a half wild
breed but little beyond the wild things from which they came. As we lay
in the grass listening, this dog which had come back for some morsel he
knew of, smelt us, and, barking, bolted down a wooded path to the right.
We saw him clearly as he ran up a hillside and over into a gorge beyond.
"There's where we'll find the family," said Moriarty. "We'll cut around
and go into the rear."
It took us a good hour to do it, crawling through bamboo and cane, under
mango and desert palm, through the tall grasses, and over _crevasses_.
Often we lay quiet in them, resting.
It was a weird and unexpected sight that we saw. Before us lay a little
cup in the mountain gorge, a natural amphitheater, framed by a small
grove of palms and cocoanuts. Savage figures were going through queer
rites.
We stopped, puzzled. "That isn't the village people," whispered Davis.
"There are no women or children there, they are headmen and warriors,
and that is some ceremony they are performing."
We crawled up within fifty yards, and then I wished I had not come, for
Moriarty gripped me quickly, and pointing to two naked men bound and
laid out on the ground, whispered, "Ross and Billings!"
"We're too late, Captain, they've been killed and now they are fixing to
mutilate them, cut off their heads and cut out their hearts and fill
their stomachs with stones."