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

CHAPTER XXVIII
THE ADVANCE UPON SAN ISIDRO

“Why, Luke Striker, is it possible! I thought you had sailed for the United States on the Olympia.”

“Well, ye hadn’t no right to think that, captain,” responded the old gunner, as he shook hands warmly. “It might be that the others could go away and leave Larry behind, but he’s too much my boy for me to do that – yes, sirree. When I hears as we were to set sail for the States, I goes up to the admiral himself, an’ says I: ‘Admiral,’ says I, ‘do you remember how Larry Russell an’ yer humble servant comes on board of the Olympia?’ says I. ‘Yes,’ says he. ‘I remember it well,’ says he. ‘Well,’ says I, ‘Larry is ashore, a prisoner of the enemy,’ says I. ‘I don’t want to go for to leave him, nohow. Can’t you leave me behind,’ says I. And he laughs and asks me all about Larry, and finally says I can go ashore and report to Rear Admiral Watson – who is comin’ on – sometime later. And here I am, come to the front, to find Larry, ef sech a thing is possible.”

The old sailor’s honest speech went straight to Ben’s heart, and he saw very plainly how deep was Luke’s affection for his younger brother. “You’re a messmate worth having, Luke!” he exclaimed. “I don’t wonder Larry thought so much of you.”

“Avast, I’m only a common sea-dog at the best, captain, – an ef I remained behind to cast around fer the lad, ye mustn’t think thet Jack Biddle an’ the others have forgotten Larry, fer they ain’t, not by a jugful. Every man jack o’ them is his friend, an’ was, almost from the start.”

Luke had come up to the camp by way of Malolos, accompanying a pack-train of caribao carts carrying rations and army equipments. He had left the Olympia several days before, and had not waited to witness the departure of the flagship.

As Luke wished to remain with Ben, the latter lost no time in presenting the matter to Colonel Darcy and to Major Morris, and Luke was taken into the regiment camp as a cook, for he had once been a cook on a merchantman, years before. The position was largely an honorary one, and the sailor was permitted to leave his pots and kettles whenever he pleased.

“It’s good news,” he said, when the young captain had told him what the prisoners had said about Larry and Benedicto Lupez. “I’ve an idee we’ll get to Larry soon, an’ down thet tarnal Spaniard in the bargain.”

The conversation took place on Tuesday. On Wednesday orders came to strike camp, and the march of the regiment was taken toward San Isidro by way of Baluarte, a small village seven miles to the southeast of the new rebel capital. In the meantime, although the Americans were not aware of it, Aguinaldo was preparing to decamp, with his so-called congress, into the mountain fastnesses, still further northward.

“We are in for another fight,” said Major Morris, as he came to Ben that afternoon. “And I’ve an idea it is going to be something to the finish.”

“That means, then, that we are bound for San Isidro!” cried the young captain. “Hurrah! that’s the best news I’ve heard in a week.”

The regiment was soon on the road, spread out in proper battalion form. The day was close, and it looked as if a thunderstorm was at hand. The growth along the road was thick, and at certain points the overhanging branches had to be cut off that the troops might pass. The trail was bad, and often a gun, or wagon, had to stop so that a hole might be bridged over with bamboo poles. Here and there they passed a nipa hut, but these places were deserted, excepting in rare instances, where an aged native would stand at the door, holding up a white rag as a signal of surrender, or to show that he was an amigo, or friend.

“It’s pitiable,” said Ben to Major Morris, as they trudged along side by side. “I reckon some of these ignorant creatures have an idea that we have come to annihilate them.”

“You can be sure that Aguinaldo and his followers have taught them something like that,” replied the major. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t look so terrified.”

At one point in the road, they came to a tumble-down hut, at the doorway of which rested a woman and her three small children, all watching the soldiers with eyes full of terror. Going up to the woman, Ben spoke kindly to her, but she immediately fled into the dilapidated structure, dragging her trio of offspring after her.

“You can’t make friends that way,” cried Major Morris. “They won’t trust you. I’ve tried it more than once.”

There was now a hill to climb, thick with tropical trees and brush. The regiment had scarcely covered a hundred feet of the ascent, when there came a volley of shots from a ridge beyond, which wounded two soldiers in the front rank.

“The rebels are in sight!” was the cry. “Come on, boys, let us drive ’em back! On to San Isidro!” And away went one battalion after another, fatigued by a two miles’ tramp, but eager to engage once more in the fray. It was found that the insurgents had the ridge well fortified, and General Lawton at once spread out his troops in a semicircle, in the hope of surrounding the ridge and cutting off the defenders from the main body of Aguinaldo’s army.

Ben’s regiment was coming, “head on,” for the top of the ridge. The way was over ground much broken by tree-stumps, rocks, and entangling vines, that brought many a soldier flat.

“Sure, an’ it’s a rigular fish-net!” spluttered Dan Casey, as he tried in vain to rise, with vines ensnaring both arms and legs. “I don’t know but phwat a fellow wants a wire-cutter here, just as they had ’em in Cuby to cut the wire finces wid.”

“Nefer mind, so long as we got by der dop of dot hill,” answered Carl Stummer, as he hauled his mate out of the entanglement. “Be dankful dot you ain’t parefooted by dem dorns.” And on went both once more. There was many a slip and a tumble, but very little grumbling.

“Down!” The cry came from the front, and down went Ben’s company into a little hollow, for the rebels had them in plain view now, and the two lines were less than three hundred yards apart. A volley from the insurgents followed, but nobody was struck.

“Forward twenty-five yards!” cried Ben, and up went the company for another dash. It was a soul-trying moment, and none felt it more than the young commander, who ran on ahead to inspire his men. He knew that at any instant a bullet might hit him to lay him low forever. But his “baptism of fire” had been complete, and he did not flinch.

“Hot work, this!” The words came from Gilmore as he came up the hill close to Ben. “It’s going to be no picnic taking that ridge.”

“True, Gilmore; but it’s got to be done,” answered the young commander. “Down!” he shouted, and again the company fell flat. Then began a firing at will, which lasted the best part of ten minutes. The insurgents, likewise, fired, and a corporal and a private were wounded and had to be carried to the rear.

Looking around, Ben espied Luke Striker in the ranks of Company D. The old sailor had provided himself with a rifle and an ammunition belt, and was popping away at a lively rate.

“I couldn’t help it,” said Luke, when the young captain came up to him. “It’s the best fun I’ve had sence thet air muss in Manila Bay, when we blowed old Montojo out o’ the water, off Cavite. Say, but we’ll git to the top o’ the hill afore long, jes’ see ef we don’t!” And Luke blazed away again, and so Ben left him.

The rest of the battalion was now closing in, and soon another advance was made, until the first line of the American troops was less than a hundred and fifty yards away from the insurgents’ outer intrenchments. Then a yell came from a jungle on the left.

“What’s that? more rebels?” cried Ben, and listened.

“No, no, the Filipinos are retreating!” came from a score of throats. “See, they are scattering like sheep! Up the hill, fellows; the fight is ours!” And a regular stampede occurred, each command trying to get to the top of the ridge first. The rebels were indeed retreating into a thicket behind the ridge. They went less than half a mile, however, and then made another stand, this time on the upper side of a mountain stream, – the very stream at which Larry and his companions had stopped after the escape from the caves under the mountain.

To ford the stream would have been an easy matter under ordinary circumstances, but with the rebels guarding the upper bank, it was extremely hazardous, and the regiment came to a halt on the edge of the brush overhanging the water.

“They are straight ahead, boys,” said Major Morris, after his scouts had reported to him. “We will make a detour to the right. Forward, and on the double-quick!”

Every soldier felt that delay would mean a serious loss, and a rapid rush was made through the jungle to a point where the stream became rocky and winding. Here an excellent ford was found, and they went over in column of fours. They could now enfilade the rebels’ position, and this they did so disastrously that the Filipinos speedily threw down a large part of their arms and fled helter-skelter into the mountain fastnesses still further to the northward.

The battle over, the battalion came to rest under the shade of the trees lining the stream, many of the soldiers throwing themselves down in a state bordering upon exhaustion, for the humidity in the air told upon them greatly. There was not a breath of a breeze, and the water hardly quenched the thirst that raged within them. As Major Morris declared, ‘It was the primest place to catch a fever in’ he had ever seen.

Ben was sitting at the foot of a tall tree talking to Gilmore, when he saw the advance guards bringing in two Americans, one evidently a sailor. At once he sprang to meet the sailor, thinking the man might know something about Larry.

The two men proved to be Dan Leroy and Boxer, the scout, and when he mentioned his brother’s name to them, both were of course astonished.

“Do we know him!” cried Leroy. “Sure and didn’t he and I run away together from the rebels, and Boxer, here, helping us to get out of the prison caves. Yes, yes, I know Larry well.” And then Leroy told of the escape from the caves, and of how all three of the party had become lost in the swamp lands.

“We were in the swamps two days, and thought we would never get out,” he continued. “Luckily, we had some caribao meat with us; otherwise we should have starved to death. The swamps were full of mosquitoes and lizards and lots of other things, and we were almost eaten up alive, eh, Boxer?”

“So we were,” replied the scout.

“But what of my brother?” asked Ben, impatiently.

At this the faces of both of the men fell.

“We can’t say what became o’ him,” said the sailor from the Yorktown. “You see, after we got out of the swamp, we determined to stick to the high ground until we found a regular trail leading to the south. Well, our walk took us up to a high cliff overlooking a gorge filled with trees and bushes. We were walking ahead, with Larry at our heels, as we thought, when Boxer chanced to look around, and the boy was gone.”

“Gone!” gasped Ben, in horror.

“Yes, gone! We couldn’t understand it, and called to him, but he didn’t answer. Then we went back about quarter of a mile, past the spot where we had seen him last, and fired the pistol as a signal. But he had disappeared totally, and we couldn’t find hide nor hair o’ him, try our level best.”

The confession was a sickening one, and for several minutes Ben could not trust himself to speak.

“And – and what do you think became of my brother?” he asked, at length.

Both men shrugged their shoulders. “I’m afraid he fell over the cliff,” said Boxer. “You see, the footpath was narrow and mighty slippery in spots.”

At once Ben’s mind went back to that scene in far-away Cuba, when Gerald Holgait had fallen over a cliff. Had a similar fate overtaken his brother? and if so, was he still alive or had he been dashed to his death?

“How far is that spot from here?” he demanded abruptly.

“Not over a mile, cap’n,” answered Boxer.

“I see you are a scout. Can you take me to the place?”

“Certainly – but – but – it’s mighty risky, cap’n – so many rebs lurking about.”

“Never mind – I must find Larry, alive or dead. Take me to him, and I’ll pay you well for your services.”

“I ain’t asking a cent, cap’n – that ain’t my style.”

“Then you will take me?”

“I will,” said Boxer, promptly. “Only I’ll have to report first and get official permission.”

“Major Morris will arrange that for you, I feel certain,” answered Ben, turning to the major, who sat near, drinking in the conversation.

“Yes, I’ll arrange that,” said the major. “But I don’t see how I am going to do without you, captain.”

“Would you keep me from looking for my brother?”

“No, no, go ahead, and Gilmore can take the company.”

So it was arranged; and inside of quarter of an hour Ben and Boxer were ready to depart.

“Captain, can’t I go with ye?” It was Luke Striker who asked the question. The anxious look on his face spoke more eloquently than words, and Ben consented without argument.

And so the three set off on the search for Larry, little dreaming of the strange happenings in store for them.

CHAPTER XXIX
LARRY IS SENTENCED TO BE SHOT

To go back to Larry, at the time mentioned by Dan Leroy, when the boy had been following the old sailor and the scout along the cliff overlooking the valley in which both the Filipino and the American troops were encamped.

The adventures in the swamp had been exceedingly tiring, and the youth could scarcely drag one foot after the other, as the party of three hurried along over rocks and through thickets which at certain points seemed almost impassible.

“O dear! I’ll be glad when this day’s tramp comes to an end,” he thought. “I wonder how far the American camp is from here?”

He tried to look across the valley, but there was a bluish vapor hanging over trees and brush which shut off a larger portion of the view. The party had been walking over a trail which now brought them directly to the edge of the cliff. Here the footpath was scarcely two feet wide, and was backed up by high rocks and thorn bushes, around which it was difficult to climb without injury.

The men were as tired as the boy, and it must be confessed that for a half hour or more they paid little attention to Larry. Gradually the youth lagged behind, until those ahead were lost to view around a sharp turn of the cliff.

And it was then that an accident happened which put Larry in great peril all in an instant. In trying to make the turn, the boy got hold of a slender tree by which to support himself. Leroy and Boxer had grasped the same tree, and their swinging around had loosened its frail hold on the rocks, and as Larry grasped it, down went the sapling over the edge of the cliff, carrying the youth with it.

The boy had no time to cry out, and he clung fast, not knowing what else to do, until the tree landed with a mighty crash on the top of another tree at the foot of the cliff. The sudden stoppage caused Larry to loose his hold, and he bumped from limb to limb in the tree below until he struck the ground with a dull thud; and then for the time being he knew no more.

When the boy came to his senses, he found it was night and pitch dark under the thick tree, through the branches of which he had fallen. He rested on a bed of soft moss, and this cushionlike substance had most likely saved him from fatal injury.

His first feeling was one of bewilderment, his next that his left foot felt as if it was on fire, with a shooting pain that ran well up to his knee. Catching hold of the foot, he felt that the ankle was much swollen, and that his shoe-top was ready to burst with the pressure. Scarcely realizing what he was doing, he loosened the shoe, at which part of the pain left him.

“I suppose I ought to be thankful that I wasn’t killed,” he thought, rather dismally. “I wonder where Leroy and that scout are? I don’t suppose it will do any good to call for them. The top of that cliff must be a hundred feet from here.”

The fall had almost finished what was left of Larry’s already ragged suit, and he found himself scratched in a dozen places, with a bad cut over one eye and several splinters in his left hand. Feeling in his pocket, he found several matches which Leroy had given him on leaving the prison cave, and he lit one of these and set fire to a few dried leaves which happened to be ready to hand.

The light afforded a little consolation, and by its rays the boy made out a pool of water not far off, and to this he dragged himself, to get a drink and then bathe the ankle. This member of his body had been so badly wrenched that standing upon it was out of the question, as he speedily discovered by a trial which made him scream with pain.

“I’m in for it now,” he thought. “With such an ankle as this, I can’t go on, and what am I to do here, alone in the woods and with absolutely nothing to eat? I’d be better off in a Filipino prison.”

Slowly the night wore along, until a faint light in the east announced the coming of day. During the darkness the jungle had been almost silent, but now the birds began to tune up, and here and there Larry heard the movements of small animals, although none of the latter showed themselves.

It was more pleasant under the big tree than down by the pool, and as daylight came on, Larry dragged himself back to his first resting-place. As he came up to the tree he saw a broken branch resting there and on it a bird’s nest containing half a dozen speckled eggs.

“Here’s a little luck, anyway,” he murmured, and taking some of the tree limbs, he made a fire and cooked the eggs in the hot ashes. When they were done, he broke off the shells and ate the eggs, and although the flavor was by no means to be prized, yet they did much toward relieving the hunger he had felt before taking the fall over the cliff.

The day that followed was one which Larry says he will never forget, and for good reason. Neither human being nor beast came near him, and even the birds flying overhead seemed to give him a wide berth. Time and again he cried out, but the only answer that came back was the echo from the cliff, repeating his own words as if in mockery. Occasionally he heard firing at a great distance, but toward nightfall even this died out. He could scarcely move from his resting-place, and it was not until darkness came on that the pain in his ankle subsided sufficiently to allow of his sleeping in comfort.

The long sleep did the boy a world of good, and when he awakened he found the swelling in his ankle gone down, along with much of the pain, and on getting up he found that he could walk, but it must be slowly and with care. He was again hungry, and his first effort was to supply himself with something to eat.

To bring down even a small animal was out of the question, but he thought he might possibly knock over a bird or two, and with this in view cut himself several short, heavy sticks. The birds were coming down to the pool to drink, and watching his chance he let fly with the sticks and managed to bring down two of the creatures, and these formed the sum total of his breakfast, although he could have eaten twice as many. There were a number of berries to hand, but these he refrained from touching, fearing they might be poisonous.

Larry felt he must now go on. To gain the top of the cliff was out of the question, so he decided to strike out directly for the southwest, feeling that this must sooner or later bring him into the American lines. To be sure, he had first to pass the Filipinos, but this could not be helped, and he felt that the best he could do would be to keep his eyes and ears open and walk around any body of the enemy that he might discover, instead of trying to steal his way straight through. This would require many miles of walking, and on the sore foot, too, but this hardship would have to be endured.

Half a mile was covered in a slow and painful fashion, when Larry reached a small clearing, and here he sat down to rest on a fallen tree and to examine the ankle, which he was afraid was again swelling. He was engaged in looking at the wounded member, when a rough Tagalog voice broke upon his ears.

“What do you here?” demanded a heavy-set native, in his own tongue, as he strode forward, gun in hand, followed by several others.

Larry was startled and leaped up. In a twinkling he found himself surrounded, and several Mausers were levelled at his head.

To resist would have been the height of foolishness, and Larry did not try. The Tagals asked him a number of questions in their own tongue, but he shook his head to show them that he did not understand. On their part, not one could speak English, so neither party could communicate with the other.

The natives, however, soon understood that he was alone, and when he pointed to his ankle and limped, also understood that he had sprained that member. One went into the bushes, and presently returned with some leaves, which he crushed and packed inside of the boy’s stocking. The juice of the leaves proved very cooling, and presently much of the pain from the sprain went away.

The Tagals were bound for the cliff, but by a route different from that which Larry had travelled. As the boy was unarmed and could scarcely hobble along, they did not take the trouble to bind him in any way. He was made to march with half of the crowd before him and the others behind; and thus they proceeded until the cliff was reached, at a point where the jungle hid a series of rough steps leading to the top. Beyond the top of these steps was a mountain trail, which by nightfall brought them to a plateau where were encamped at least three hundred Filipinos of all classes, the Tagals predominating.

A shout went up as Larry appeared, and he was at once recognized as one of the prisoners who had escaped from the caves, which were fully four miles away.

“So they have caught you again?” remarked an under-officer, as he strode up with a sinister smile on his swarthy countenance. “You did not get very far.”

“No, I had a bad fall and lamed my foot,” replied Larry, as cheerfully as he could. He was never one to “cry over spilt milk.”

“A fall? Where?”

“I fell over the high cliff just below here.”

“And you live to tell it? Impossible!”

“No, it is true. I fell into a large tree, and that broke my fall. But I was badly scratched up, and my ankle was sprained.”

“A rare fall truly, boy. It would have been better, though, if you had been killed.”

“Thank you; I like that!”

“I say it because you are a prisoner who has tried to escape from us. Do you know the fate of all such?”

At these words Larry could not help but shiver. He knew what the officer up at the cave prison had said, – that any prisoner trying to escape would be shot at the first opportunity which presented itself.

“Surely, you would not kill me for trying to get away?” he cried quickly.

The under-officer shrugged his shoulders. “It is not for me to change our regulations of war, boy. Your words prove that you knew beforehand the risk you were running.”

“Yes, yes – but – You would try to get away too, if our soldiers caught you.”

“Possibly – I understand you treat your prisoners very badly.”

“Our prisoners are treated as well as yours. And we would not kill a Filipino for having tried to escape, – unless, of course, he was shot in the attempt.”

“It is you who say that – I have heard vastly different stories; how our men were starved and shot down without mercy, – not one man, but hundreds of them. I have it from friends in Manila that your General Otis is a monster who would rather kill than save at any time.”

“Your friends have told you that which is not true!” exclaimed Larry, warmly. “If anything, General Otis is too kind-hearted, especially with those who have done their best to put the city in a state of rebellion and those who have tried to burn it to the ground. I suppose your friends had a purpose in telling you what was not true.”

“I take my friends’ words in preference to yours, boy,” was the angry answer. “Who are you that come to take our country away from us – the country that we tried so hard to liberate from the iron grasp of Spain? The land is ours, and no Americans shall govern us. We will fight to the last, – from the cities to the towns, and from the towns to the villages, and then to the mountains, from one island to another, – and you shall never conquer us, no matter how large an army you send from across the ocean. But, bah, I am talking to a mere boy, when I might have better sense.” And turning on his heel the under-officer strode away, out of humor with himself as well as with Larry.

The youth felt utterly crushed, and sitting down on a rock, with a heart as heavy as lead, he wondered what was going to happen next. Would they really shoot him? The thought was agony itself.

There were no other prisoners in the camp, so he was left for a long time alone, although several soldiers kept their eyes upon him, that he might not wander away. Soon supper was served, and one of the Tagals brought him a bowl of rice and meat. It must be confessed that he was now tremendously hungry, and ate all of what was given him, despite his down-heartedness.

The meal finished, the Filipinos were sitting around their camp-fires, when a certain General Drummo was announced. At once there was a parade, which the general reviewed with satisfaction. The newcomer was served with supper, and then Larry was brought before him.

The general had his head full of his plans for the morrow and gave the boy but scant attention.

“You knew the risk you ran when you stole away,” he said, in broken English. “It is true you are but a boy, yet I’ll wager you can use a gun better than some of our own men. I cannot pardon you, for that would be setting a bad example. So I hereby sentence you to be shot at sunrise to-morrow, – and may your death be an example to others who are thinking of escape.”

Before Larry could say a word, if indeed he wanted to speak, he was led away to a hollow back of the camp. Here he was tied fast to a tree, and two soldiers were detailed to guard him until the hour for his execution should arrive.