Stratemeyer Edward
The Campaign of the Jungle: or, Under Lawton through Luzon

CHAPTER XXVI
BOXER THE SCOUT

Much chagrined, man and boy stood on the brink of the chasm before them and gazed at the other side. It was sloping, as Larry had said, and wet, which was worse. A jump, even for a trained athlete, would have been perilous in the extreme.

“Looks like we were stumped,” remarked Leroy, laconically.

“And just as we were so near to yonder opening!” cried Larry, vexed beyond endurance. “If we only had a plank, or something.”

He looked around, but nothing was at hand but the bare stone walls, with here and there a patch of dirt and a loose stone. He walked to one end of the hole.

“A fellow might climb along yonder shelf if he were a cat,” he said dismally. “But I don’t believe a human being could do it.”

“No, and don’t you go for to try it,” put in the old sailor. “If you do, you’ll break your neck, sure as guns is guns.”

“Well, we’ve got to do something, Leroy.”

“So we have; an’ I move we sit down an’ eat a bite o’ the stew. Maybe eatin’ will put some new ideas into our heads.”

“I’d rather wait until we gain the open air.”

“But we can’t make it – yet – so be content, lad. It’s something to know thet the blue sky is beyond.”

They sat down, and soon finished one-half of what remained of the mess in the kettle. Never had anything tasted sweeter, and it was only by the exercise of the greatest self-control that they kept back a portion of the food.

“Perhaps we’ll have to go back, remember that,” said Leroy, as he put the cover on the kettle once more.

“Go back? No, no, Leroy! I’ll try jumping over first.”

“I don’t think I shall. Thet hole – What’s that?”

A sound had reached the old sailor’s ears, coming from some distance ahead. It was the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Somebody is coming!” whispered Larry, and crouched down. Then a man put in an appearance, coming from the opposite end of the passageway. He was an American soldier, hatless and almost in tatters.

“Hullo there!” cried Larry, leaping up. “Oh, but I’m glad you came!”

At the cry the soldier stopped short in amazement. Larry’s words echoed and reëchoed throughout the passage. He looked toward the pair at the chasm, but could make out little saving the torch which Leroy was holding.

“Who calls?” he asked at last.

“I called,” answered the boy. “Can’t you see us? We are two lost sailors, and we can’t get over this beastly hole. Come this way, but be careful of where you step.”

“You must be Americans by your voices. Am I right?”

“Yes; and you are an American, too,” said Larry, as the soldier came closer. Soon he stood facing them, with a look of wonder on his bronzed features.

“How did you get here?” he demanded.

“It’s a long story,” answered Leroy. “We escaped from some rebels at the other end of this cave, and we’ve been wandering around since last night. Are you alone, or are our forces outside of this hole?”

“General Lawton’s troops are a good many miles from here,” answered the soldier. “I am one of his scouts, and I became separated from our command and got up here to escape being hunted down by the crowd of Filipinos that was after me. They are in the woods just outside of this hole.”

“Then you are all alone?” said Larry, his face falling a little.

“Yes, although I think a couple of our men must be in this vicinity. We are pressing the rebels pretty hard, you know.”

The scout’s name was George Boxer, and he was one of the best marksmen in Chief Young’s command. He listened to their story with interest, and at once agreed to do what he could for them. They noted with satisfaction that he was provided with both a rifle and a pistol, and also a belt well filled with ammunition.

It was an easy matter for Boxer to make his way into the open air and find a fallen tree limb of sufficient thickness to throw over the chasm as a make-shift bridge. As soon as the limb was secure, Larry and Leroy came over, and then the party of three made their way to the mouth of the cave.

It was a welcome sight to see the sky again and the sunshine, and Larry’s eyes sparkled as he gazed down the mountain-side and at the vast panorama spread out before him. At their feet was a heavy jungle, and beyond a plain and a small hill, where a large body of insurgents were encamping.

“It’s good to be in the fresh air again, eh, lad?” observed Leroy. “But I’m afraid we’ll have a good bit o’ trouble gettin’ past them rebels,” he added to George Boxer.

“We can’t get past them in the daytime,” answered the scout; “but I think we can make it after the sun goes down. And it will take us till sundown to get to the bottom of this mountain, if I am not mistaken.”

Now they were in the open, it was decided to discard the kettle; and the three ate up what remained of the stew, along with the single ration which Boxer carried. Then they began the descent of the mountain-side, slipping over rocks and dirt as best they could, and finding their way around many an ugly pitfall.

“I suppose you think it’s queer I came up so far,” said Boxer, as they hurried downward. “The truth is I was so closely pursued I didn’t realize how far I was going. Those rebels can climb the mountains like so many wildcats. I’m afraid we’ll never clean them out if they take a stand up here.”

It was hot, and now Leroy gazed from time to time at the sky. “A storm or something is coming,” he said.

“Yes, something is coming,” added Boxer. “I can tell it by the way the birds are flying about. They seem to be troubled.”

“I see a cloud away off to the southward,” put in Larry. “It’s not large, but it’s mighty black.”

No more was said just then upon the subject; and they continued their journey down the mountain-side until they came to a fair-sized stream, where they quenched their thirst and took a wash. They were about to go on again when Boxer held up his hand as a warning.

“Great gophers, boys, we are running right into a nest of the rebels!” he whispered. “Back with you, before it is too late.”

They looked ahead and saw that the scout was right. They started to go back; and as they turned, a Mauser rang out and a bullet clipped the bushes beside them.

“Discovered!” came from Leroy’s lips. “Larry, I’m afraid the jig is up. Those Filipi – ”

Crack! It was Boxer’s rifle that rang out, and as the scout was a sharpshooter, it may be taken for granted that he brought down his man. Then the three set off on a run along the side of the mountain to where a slight rise of ground promised better hiding.

“We can’t do much against such a crowd,” said the scout. “But in a good spot we can hold out awhile, provided one of you can use my pistol.”

“I can fire tolerably straight,” answered Leroy, and took the weapon. Soon the rise was gained, and they plunged in behind a tangle of pines. The Filipinos were following them, although taking good care not to expose themselves needlessly to the fire of such a crack marksman as Boxer had proved himself to be.

From behind the tangle of growth, the three Americans watched the skilful advance of the enemy with dismay. “They are trying to surround us!” whispered Boxer. Then like a flash his rifle went up. The report was followed by a yell of pain, and a Filipino fell into view from behind a tree less than fifty yards distant. The poor fellow was hit in the side, but managed to crawl back into cover again, groaning dismally.

Leroy also fired, a second later, aiming at a tall Tagal who was crossing a clearing to their left. If he hit his mark, the rebel gave no sign, but the man disappeared in a great hurry. Then came a crashing through the bushes below and to the left, proving that the Filipinos were massing in those directions.

“Perhaps we had better try to crawl away from this – ” began Larry, when a humming sound caught his ear. At the same time the sky grew black.

“Look! look!” yelled Leroy. “What is this – the end of the world?”

All looked up. The humming had increased to a whistle, and now came a crashing of trees and brush mingled with the wild cries of the Filipinos as they rushed away toward a near-by mountain stream. They knew what was coming, even if our friends did not.

And then the tornado was almost upon them. I say almost, for, thanks to an all-ruling Providence, it did not strike them fairly, but rushed to one side, where the Filipinos had been gathering. The light of day seemed to die out utterly, and the air was filled with flying débris and screaming birds and wild animals made homeless on the instant. The very earth seemed to quake with the violence of the trees uprooted, and branches and dirt flew all over the Americans, until they were buried as completely as Ben and his companions had been. Larry thought it was indeed the end of the world, and breathed a silent prayer that God might watch over him and those he loved.

At last the rushing wind ceased, and the crashing was lost in the distance. But the birds kept up their wild cries, and for several seconds neither Larry nor those with him moved, wondering if that was the end of the tornado, or if worse was to follow. But it was the end, and gradually they came forth one after another, to gaze on the mighty wreckage about them. It was Leroy who raised his hand solemnly to heaven.

“I thank God that we have been spared,” he said, and Larry and the scout uttered an amen.

Whether or not to leave the vicinity was a question. At last, seeing no more of the enemy, they plucked up courage enough to move down the mountain-side once more. But the tornado had made the passage more difficult than ever, and several times they had to turn back. Nightfall found them still some distance from the plain, with yet another jungle to pass before the open would be gained.

“We might as well make a night of it here,” said Boxer, and footsore and weary Larry and Leroy agreed with him. It was not long before all dropped asleep, too tired to stand guard, and hardly deeming that one was necessary.

The tornado had killed numerous birds and small animals, and it was easy to pick up a plentiful breakfast.

“I don’t know about making a fire,” said Leroy. “Those rebels may spot us before we are aware.”

Yet they were too hungry to go without eating, and in the end they built a fire of the driest wood they could find, and while Boxer cooked the birds, Larry and the old sailor scattered the smoke with their jackets, so that it might not go up in a cloud, and also kept their eyes open for the possible appearance of the rebels. But the tornado had scared the insurgents as much as it had anybody, and not one showed himself.

By eight o’clock they were once more on the way, Boxer leading with his gun ready for use, Larry in the centre, and Leroy bringing up the rear with the pistol.

They were just entering the jungle at the foot of the mountain when a strange moaning reached their ears and all halted. There was a silence, and then the moaning started up again.

“What is that?” questioned Larry. “It can’t be a human being.”

“I think I know what it is,” returned the scout. “Wait here till I make sure,” and he glided ahead and was soon lost to sight under a clump of tall trees which grew in somewhat of a clearing. Soon they heard him shouting for them to come on.

It was a water buffalo that was moaning. The beast had become caught under a partly fallen tree and could not release itself. It was a handsome animal and weighed a good many hundred pounds.

“Here’s meat and to spare!” cried Boxer, and drawing forth a hunting knife, he put the caribao out of his misery in short order. “This is some more work of that tornado,” he went on, as he proceeded to cut out a choice steak. “We won’t starve for the next forty-eight hours.”

“I hope by that time we’ll have reached the army,” answered Larry, and took the portion of meat handed to him. It was not a dainty thing to carry, but he had to shoulder it, since Boxer and Leroy were carrying the weapons.

As they proceeded, the jungle appeared to become more dense, until it was next to impossible to make any progress. Yet they felt that each step was bringing them closer to the open plain and to a point where few natives were likely to be congregated. “If we once get down to the bottom, we’ll be all right,” said Boxer.

But the scout had not reckoned on the fact that there was a hollow at the base of the mountain, and that the heavy rains had filled this full to overflowing. It was Larry who first called attention to the fact that the ground was growing damp. Then of a sudden the whole party stepped into the water up to their ankles.

Here was a new dilemma to face, and each looked at the others in anything but a happy mood. “Beats everything what luck we’re having!” cried Leroy, in deep disgust. “I’d give a year’s pay to be safe on board the Yorktown agin, keelhaul me if I wouldn’t!”

“I suppose the best thing we can do is to march around the swamp-hole,” replied Larry. “What do you say, Boxer?”

“Let us try it a bit further,” replied the scout, and they moved forward with care. At first the ground appeared to grow better, but then they went down again halfway to their knees and in a muck that stuck to them like glue.

“It’s no use, we’ll have to go back,” groaned Leroy, and turned about. Silently the others followed him, wondering where the adventure would end.

CHAPTER XXVII
THE DEPARTURE OF THE OLYMPIA

The advances of both General MacArthur and General Lawton had been so far nothing but a series of successes, and so hard were the insurgents pressed, that they scarcely knew what to do next. Again they sued for peace, but as the Americans were not inclined to grant them anything until they had surrendered unconditionally, the war went on, but in more of a guerilla-fight fashion than ever.

Near San Fernando the rebels continued to tear up the railroad tracks, and likewise attacked a train of supplies, killing and wounding several who were on board. They also attacked several gunboats coming up the San Fernando River, keeping themselves safely hidden, in the meantime, behind high embankments thrown up along the stream. While this was going on General Aguinaldo called a council of war, at San Isidro, at which fifty-six of his main followers were present. By a vote it was found that twenty were for peace, twenty for war, and sixteen wished to negotiate with the United States for better terms. This gathering gave rise to a rumor that the war would terminate inside of forty-eight hours. Alas! it was still to drag on for many months to come.

The day after the tornado found Ben safe in camp again, with Gilbert in the hospital receiving every attention. It was Sunday, and a day of rest for the majority of the troops. At a small tent a short service was held, and Ben walked over, to hear a very good sermon on man’s duty toward God under any and all circumstances. The sermon was followed by the singing of several hymns, and the soldiers remained at the spot for an hour or more afterward, talking over the general situation.

“It always takes me back home to hear the preachin’,” remarked Ralph Sorrel. “I’m mighty glad we have it. It shows we ain’t no heathens, even though we air livin’ a kind o’ hit-an’-miss life a-followin’ up these yere rebs.”

On Monday the scouts went out to the front, and a small brush was had with a number of the insurgents in the vicinity of San Miguel de Mayumo. They reported that the Filipinos had a number of intrenchments placed across the roads, but seemed to be retreating toward San Isidro.

“If Aguinaldo makes a stand anywhere, it will be at San Isidro,” said Ben to Major Morris, as the two discussed the situation. “Oh, but I do wish we could have one big battle and finish this campaign!”

“How about the big battle going against us?” demanded the major, but with a twinkle in his eye.

“It would never go against us,” answered the young captain, promptly, “and the insurgents know it. That is why they keep their distance.”

The scouts had brought in a dozen or more prisoners, and among them were a Filipino and a Spaniard, both of whom could speak English quite fluently. As soon as he could obtain permission, Ben hurried over to have a talk with the prisoners.

He found that the Filipino had belonged to those having some of the American prisoners in charge.

“And do you know anything of my brother?” he asked eagerly. “He is a young sailor from the Olympia, and his name is Larry Russell.”

“Yes, yes, I know him,” answered the Filipino, nodding his head. “He was at the cave where they have kept some of the prisoners for a long time.” And he described Larry so minutely that Ben felt there could be no mistake about the matter.

“Is my brother well? How do they treat him? Please tell me the truth.”

“You may not believe it, but we treat our prisoners good,” said the Filipino. “And when I saw your brother last he was very well.”

“And where is this prison cave?”

At this the insurgent shrugged his shoulder. “Now, capitan, you are asking me too much. I am pleased to tell you that your brother is safe. More than that I cannot tell, for it would not be right.”

This was not encouraging, yet Ben could not help but admire the prisoner’s loyalty to his cause. “Very well,” he said. “I am thankful to know that my brother is well. I was afraid that prison life might make him sick.”

A little later the young captain got the chance to talk to the Spanish prisoner, who was making an application for his release, claiming that he was friendly to the United States and had never encouraged the rebels. Seldom had the young captain met more of a gentleman than Señor Romano proved to be.

“Ah, the war is terrible! terrible!” said the señor, after Ben had introduced himself. “It is bloodshed, bloodshed, all the time. Where it will end, Heaven alone knows – but I am afraid the Filipinos will be beaten far worse than was my own country.”

“I think you are right there,” replied Ben. “But we can’t do anything for them now until they lay down their arms.”

“The war has ruined hundreds of planters and merchants, – whole fortunes have been swept away, – and the insurgents have levied taxes which are beyond endurance. To some, Aguinaldo is their idol, but to me he is a base schemer who wants everything, and only for his own glory. But he cannot hold out much longer, – you are pressing him into the very mountains, – and once away from the civilization of the towns, his followers will become nothing but banditti– mark me if it is not so.”

“You are a resident of Luzon?” went on Ben.

“Hardly. I belong in Spain – but I have lived here for several years.”

“Do you know one Benedicto Lupez, or his brother José.”

At this question the brow of Señor Romano darkened.

“Do I know them? Ah, yes, I know them only too well. They are rascals, villains, cheats of the worst order. I trust they are not your friends.”

“Hardly, although I should like first-rate to meet them, and especially to meet Benedicto.”

“And for what? Excuse my curiosity, but what can an American captain and gentleman like you have in common with Benedicto Lupez?”

“I want to get hold of some bank money that he carried off,” answered the young captain, and told the story of the missing funds and the part the Spaniard was supposed to have played in their disappearance.

“It is like Lupez,” answered Señor Romano. “He is wanted in Cuba for having swindled a rich aunt out of a small fortune; and in Manila you will find a hundred people who will tell you that both brothers are rascals to the last degree, although, so far, they have kept out of the clutches of the law – through bribery, I think.”

“Not during General Otis’s term of office?”

“No; before the city fell into your hands. The government was very corrupt and winked at Lupez’s doings so long as he divided with certain officials.”

“And what did he work at?”

“Land schemes and loan companies. He once got me interested in a land scheme, and his rascality cost me many dollars, and I came pretty near to going to prison in the bargain.” Señor Romano paused a moment. “If your troops take San Isidro, you will have a good chance to catch both of the brothers.”

“What! do you mean to say they are at San Isidro?” exclaimed the young captain.

“They are, or, at least, they were two or three days ago. How long they will stay there, I cannot say. They were at the council of war held by Aguinaldo’s followers.”

“I see.” Ben mused for a moment. “Of course you do not know if they had the stolen money with them?”

“They appeared to have some money, for both were offered positions in the army, and that would not have happened had not they had funds to buy the offices with. They appeared to be very thick with a general named Porlar, – a tricky fellow of French-Malay blood. I believe the three had some scheme they wished to put through.”

“Well, I’d like to catch the pair. I wonder if Aguinaldo would keep them around him, if he knew their real characters?”

At this Señor Romano laughed outright. “You do not know how bad are some of the men around the arch rebel, capitan. He has some bad advisers, I can tell you that. To some of the worst of the crowd, Aguinaldo is but a figurehead.”

The pair discussed the matter for half an hour; and during that time Ben became convinced that Señor Romano had small sympathy for the insurgents, and was certainly not of their number.

“I will do what I can for you, señor,” he said, on parting. “I do not believe you will be kept a prisoner long.” And the young captain was right on this score; the Spanish gentleman was released inside of forty-eight hours, and journeyed to Manila in company with a detachment bound for the capital of Luzon.

The two talks made Ben do a good deal of sober thinking. He now knew to a certainty that Larry was alive and well, and he knew also that Benedicto Lupez was at or near San Isidro, and more than likely had the stolen money on his person. “I wish we could push ahead without delay,” he muttered. “I might make a splendid strike all around. I know Larry is just aching to be at liberty once more.”

But supplies were again slow in coming to the front, and General Lawton did not feel like risking his men when the Filipinos might surrender at any moment. So a delay of several days occurred, with only a little skirmish here and there to break the monotony.

“Hullo, here’s news!” cried Major Morris, as he rushed up to Ben’s quarters one morning. “Dewey is going to sail for the United States.”

“With the Olympia?” queried the young captain.

“Yes. The warship leaves next Saturday, with all on board. Won’t he get a rousing reception when he arrives home?”

“Larry won’t be with him,” said Ben.

“By Jove, captain, that’s so. It’s too bad, isn’t it? I suppose he would like to go, too.”

“I can’t say as to that. Perhaps he would just as lief stay here and join some command on land, or some other ship, especially if he knew that my brother Walter was coming on. But I am sure he would like to see his old messmates off,” concluded Ben.

Admiral Dewey started for the United States at four o’clock in the afternoon of Saturday, May 20. The departure proved a gala time, the harbor and shipping being decorated, and the other warships firing a salute. The bands played “Auld Lang Syne,” “Home, Sweet Home,” and “America,” and the jackies crowded the tops to get a last look at the noble flagship as she slipped down the bay toward the China Sea, with the admiral standing on the bridge, hat in hand, and waving them a final adieu. In all the time he had been at Manila, Admiral Dewey had served his country well, and his home-coming was indeed to be one of grand triumph.