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

CHAPTER XIV
SURROUNDED BY THE ENEMY

For the moment after Dan Casey spoke Ben was silent, not knowing himself what was best to do. That the Filipinos were surrounding them there could be no doubt, since those approaching would have answered the young captain of Company D had they been Americans.

The position of the pair was dangerous in the extreme, for the tall cane-stalks surrounded them upon all sides, giving shelter to the enemy, while the Tagals could see the volunteers with ease.

“Keep quiet, Casey,” whispered Ben, as the soldier started to speak again. “They may not know how many there are of us here and sneak off, fearing an ambush.”

The Irish volunteer nodded to show that he understood. He was holding his gun before him, ready to shoot whenever it appeared necessary.

Presently there was another whispered command, coming from directly in front of our friends. A slight movement in the cane-brake followed, and then all became silent once more.

“Come!” whispered Ben. “Don’t fire until you see me do so.”

Thus speaking, the young captain moved slowly and cautiously from the spot they had occupied for five minutes or more. He picked his steps, and they fell as silently as those of a cat after a bird. Casey was at his heels, almost holding his breath, and his small eyes glistening with expectancy. Both knew that they were carrying their lives in their hands.

Two rods had been covered, and still nothing was seen of the Filipinos. Was it possible that they had withdrawn? But no, there was another cracking of cane-stalks and another command in the Tagalog language, coming now from their left. Then of a sudden a Mauser rang out, and a bullet whistled back of Ben’s head and across Casey’s face.

The report had not yet died out when Ben fired, straight for the flash of fire of which he had caught a momentary glimpse. That his shot reached its mark was proven by the wild yell of pain which followed.

“The jig is up!” cried Dan Casey. “We must run fer it, captain!” And as a Tagal came into view before them he fired point-blank at the fellow, hitting him in the breast and killing him on the spot.

As luck would have it, the Filipino whom Casey had killed was a petty officer and the leader of the detachment, and his sudden taking-off disconcerted the insurgents for a minute, who yelled one to another that their leader was shot. Taking advantage of the confusion, our friends rushed headlong through the cane-brake, firing several times as they ran. A dozen shots answered them, but none of these took effect.

“I think the road is yonder,” said Ben, pointing with his pistol as they progressed. “Hark!”

From a distance came a scattering volley, proving that the fighting was not yet over. It came from the direction in which they were running. But now those left behind were after them, shooting and shouting with vigor, for they were ten to two, and were determined that the wicked Americanos should not escape their clutches.

At last the cane-brake was left behind. Beyond was a small part of a rice-field, and close by a cottage which appeared deserted.

“Sure, captain, an’ we’ll be shot down like dogs if we show ourselves in th’ open,” panted Casey, who was almost out of breath.

“Get behind the house,” answered Ben. “It is our one chance,” and he started in advance. Again the Filipinos fired on them, and this time a bullet touched the young captain’s side, cutting a straight hole through his clothing.

They were yet a hundred feet from the cottage when two American soldiers came rushing forth, guns in hand. The strangers took in the situation at a glance, and let drive with such good aim that two of the enemy fell back wounded. The others paused, not knowing how many Americans might be concealed in the building, and in another minute Ben and Casey were for the time being safe.

“By gum, ef it ain’t Captain Russell!” cried one of the soldiers, as he faced Ben. “I’m right glad to be yere to help ye, cap’n,” and he smiled broadly.

“Ralph Sorrel!” returned Ben, as he recognized the tall Tennesseean who had once accompanied him on a search for Gilbert when the young Southerner was missing. “What are you doing here?”

“Jeming an’ me hev got a wounded man with us – Sergeant Kaser o’ our company. We war takin’ him back o’ the lines, when he got so bad we brung him in yere to rest a spell. But you – ”

“Thim rebels is comin’ agin!” announced Dan Casey. “Six, eight, nine av thim, wid wan limpin’. How many av us are there here?” he asked, as he looked around.

“Four,” answered Ben. “Load up, boys, and when you shoot – ”

“We’ll make every shot tell,” answered Jeming, a hardy-looking soldier, almost as tall as his companion.

“I don’t believe they will come very close,” continued Ben. “They know that we have the advantage of them, even if we are but four to nine.”

The young captain was right. The Filipinos had showed themselves only for a few seconds. Now, as Sorrel raised his gun, they lost no time in darting behind cover.

The cottage consisted of four rooms, all on the ground floor, and a low loft upstairs. It was well built and fairly furnished in native fashion. On the single bed it contained lay the wounded soldier, Sergeant Kaser, whom Ben had met several times. He was hit in the neck, and looked as if he could last but a few hours at the most.

“Sorry we can’t git ye back to camp, sergeant,” said Sorrel, as he did what he could to ease the wounded one’s pain. “The house is surrounded by the enemy. I reckon we kin keep ’em out, but I reckon likewise thet they kin keep us in – at least fer a while.”

“It – don’t – matter,” gasped Sergeant Kaser. “I am not – not – long for this world. What a terrible thing war is! I never thought I was going to be shot down like this!” And he gave another gasp. His eyes were staring from his head, for he was suffering severe pain.

Ben looked around the cottage for something which might be given to the sufferer to ease him. But the dwelling had been stripped of all small things, and nothing in the way of food, drink, or medicine remained. Sorrel had already bound a handkerchief soaked in cold water around the wounded neck, so nothing more could be done, excepting to raise the sufferer up to a sitting position, at his request. “I don’t know as thet is best fer him,” whispered the tall Tennesseean to Ben. “But he ain’t long fer this world, as he says, an’ he might as well hev his wish as not.”

In the meantime Casey and Jeming were on guard, one watching to the front and right, the other to the left and rear. The nearest building to the cottage was a hundred and fifty feet away, but bushes and small trees were numerous, and the Americans were afraid the rebels might try to sneak up behind these and surprise them.

“Something is moving over there,” announced Jeming, after watching several of the bushes for a short spell. “Can’t make out, though, if it’s man or beast.”

“Have you plenty of ammunition?” asked Ben, who, as an officer, felt in charge of the party.

“Seventeen rounds, captain.”

“And how about you, Casey?”

“Fifteen rounds,” returned the Irish volunteer, after counting up the contents of his belt.

“I have twelve rounds, captain,” came from Sorrel. “But I reckon you know how I shoot, an’ Jeming’s jest as good, mebbe better.”

“I think the supply is sufficient,” said Ben, “so don’t run any chances. If you think that is an enemy give him a shot. But don’t hit one of our fellows by mistake,” he added, by way of caution.

“It’s a Tagal!” cried Jeming, while the young captain was yet beside him. The gun was levelled like a flash, a report followed, and the Filipino fell behind the bushes and was seen no more.

“Thet will teach ’em to keep their distance,” was Sorrel’s comment. “Perhaps they’ll clear out soon, bein’ afeered some more o’ our troops will come this way.”

But the natives were “game,” as Ben expressed it; and instead of withdrawing, they began to come closer, using every bush, tree, and outbuilding to the best advantage. Some of their fellows had joined them, so that the attacking party now numbered fifteen, and each well armed. They had seen that Ben wore the uniform of a captain, and felt that the capture of such an officer would be much to their credit.

Sergeant Kaser was now groaning so that he could be heard even outside of the building, and as the rebels had fired through the windows several times, they concluded that they had wounded one of the four men they knew to be inside. If this was so, but three Americanos were now left, and they felt that victory would soon be within their grasp.

“Surrendor, or we kill eferyboddy!” cried one of the number, in English that could scarcely be understood. “We haf dreety mens outside.”

“We ain’t surrenderin’, not by a jugful!” answered Sorrel. “What in thunder does he mean by ‘dreety mens’?” he added, to his companions.

“I think he means thirty,” answered Ben. “But I don’t believe there are that many.”

“Yes, but there are more than there was,” announced Casey, quickly. “I’m just afther seein’ ’em pass yonder bushes.” He had pointed his gun, but the Filipinos had been too quick for him.

“Do you surrendor?” demanded the voice again. “We shall begin to shoot if you no gif up.”

“No surrender,” answered Ben, firmly.

Hardly had he spoken when something came rolling toward the cottage and stopped close to the porch. It was a rude ball made of sugar-cane husks and over a foot in diameter. The ball was ablaze and burning fiercely, as if covered with pitch.

CHAPTER XV
THE ESCAPE FROM THE BURNING HOUSE

“Hullo, that’s a new wrinkle!” exclaimed Ben. “They are going to try burning us out.”

“Sure, an’ thim haythins is up to all sorts av dodges,” cried Dan Casey. “It’s meself as would like to git a squint at th’ feller that threw that.”

“I’ve got him, I reckon,” whispered Sorrel, taking a ready aim at a thin hedge to the left of the house. The report of his gun was followed by a shriek of pain, and a Filipino fell into view, the blood flowing freely from a wound in his neck. Soon his companions caught him by the legs and dragged him back into cover.

After this brief exchange of “compliments,” as the tall Tennesseean called it, there came a lull. Evidently the natives were disconcerted by the unexpected fall of the man who had thrown the fire-ball and knew not what to do.

“Do you suppose they have quitted the vicinity?” questioned Jeming, after listening vainly for some sound from without. From a distance came a scattering fire, but around the native house was the silence of death, for the man who had been shot by Sorrel had fainted from loss of blood.

“They are up to something, you can be certain of that,” answered Ben. “The Filipino is at his worst when he is silent.”

“Right ye air, cap’n,” put in Sorrel. “Yere she comes agin – an’ a scorcher, too!”

From over the bushes came a huge fire-ball, blazing brightly. It struck the thatch of the cottage close to the edge of the roof, and before it fell to the ground had set fire to the abode, which began to burn as though no shower had wet it for a month.

“That settles it!” came from Jeming. “We’ve got to get out, or we’ll be burnt up like rats in a corn-crib.”

“But the sergeant – ” began Sorrel, when a low moan issued from the corner.

“Never – mind – me, boys,” came, with several gasps. “I’m – I’m going! Good – good – bye – to – to – Tell mother – ”

He said no more, but fell back exhausted. All rushed to him, but ere anybody could raise his form again he was gone from this earth forever.

Tears stood in the eyes of Ralph Sorrel, and Jeming was scarcely less affected, for both had known the sergeant intimately. “Another victim,” murmured the tall Tennesseean. “How long is this yere blamed war goin’ ter last, anyhow?”

“Not much longer, I hope,” answered Ben, in a low voice. “I, for one, have seen enough of bloodshed.” Then the young captain straightened up, for fear he might break down. “But we must attend to our duty, and get away if we can. See, the flames are eating in at the window.”

“All right, cap’n, I’m ready,” said Sorrel. “But we must carry this yere body outside fust. We can’t let it be burnt up, nohow.”

He nodded to Jeming, who understood, and covering the form of the dead man with a blanket, they marched to the door with the stiffening form. The coast seemed clear, and they darted out and deposited their grewsome burden on the grass. They were just returning to the shelter of the doorway when two shots rang out, but neither was effective.

By this time the cottage was burning so fiercely that to remain inside longer would have proved highly dangerous. Accordingly, Ben called a council of war.

“I think we had best strike out for the grove of trees on the right,” he announced. “The distance is shorter than to the other shelters, and the grass is so high that perhaps we can get some benefit by stooping down as we run.”

“Right ye air, cap’n,” answered Sorrel, and Casey and Jeming nodded.

“Surrendor, you Americanos!” came in a shout from without. “Surrendor, you beasts!”

“Let them burn up, they deserve it!” came in Spanish.

“All ready?” asked Ben, and receiving a nod, he hurried to a side window. Below was a small bush, and in a moment he had dropped to the ground. As he started through the long grass, Casey and the others followed him.

A wild yell speedily showed that this new movement had been discovered, and a dozen shots rang out. But the Filipinos were too excited to shoot straight, and the bullets merely clipped their way through the mango and other trees, or buried themselves in the side of the burning building.

At first Ben thought to fire in return. But to find shelter was the prime consideration, and on he went, holding his pistol in readiness, but without pulling the trigger. Here and there a Filipino could be seen flitting from bush to tree, but these glimpses were short and far from satisfactory.

“They are coming!” came from Dan Casey, just as the nearest of the trees was gained. “Back, ye rascals!” he shouted, and fired as quickly as he could. Casey was right; the Tagals were surrounding them, and now they had to fight back to back, in as hot a contest as the young captain had ever seen. They were clearly outnumbered, but retreat was impossible, for the Filipinos surrounded them upon every side.

What happened during the next five minutes is almost impossible to describe, for every movement was executed with lightning-like rapidity, the Filipinos bound to kill or capture the Americans, and at the same time afraid that they would slip like eels through their fingers. After a score of shots taken at a distance, they closed in, and Ben found himself confronted by two fierce-looking men, one armed with a Mauser rifle and the other with a wicked-looking bolo. The Mauser was empty, and its owner evidently out of ammunition, for as he advanced he used the weapon as a club.

Ben was hard pressed, for his pistol was now empty, and there was no chance to reload it. But his sword kept the two Tagals back, and had it not been for his gun, one of the enemy would have had his head split open from the blade. But now the rascal with the bolo tried to attack the young captain from one side, while he with the gun swung around to the other.

Ben could expect no aid from his companions, for all were as hotly engaged as himself; indeed, Sorrel more so, for he was fighting three men, while Jeming and Dan Casey, side by side, and with their backs against a heavy thorn-bush, were fighting the balance of the detachment.

The young captain felt that he could do little or nothing more, and expected each instant to have his assailants hurl themselves directly upon him, when a shout came from Sorrel which gave all of our friends hope.

“Some soldiers air comin’!” sang out the Tennesseean. “This way, boys, this way, an’ be quick about it!”

“What’s the matter?” came in a hoarse growl from the roadway, and in a few seconds a whole company of the North Dakota troops burst into view. Their captain, a short, fat man, but one who was an excellent fighter, took in the situation at a glance, and ordered the Filipinos surrounded.

Taken by surprise, the Tagals were dumfounded, and for half a minute knew not what to do. Then they started to run, but this movement came too late, and four went down at the first volley from the newly arrived men. The others, realizing their helplessness, threw down their arms and surrendered.

“Had it hot, eh, captain,” said the North Dakota man to Ben as he came up with a quizzical smile on his round face, from which the perspiration was pouring in a stream.

“Yes,” panted Ben. “You came up in the nick of time, and I must thank you for – ”

“That’s all right, captain – no more than you would do for me, and I know it.” The North Dakota man shook hands. “It’s been a long running fight to-day,” he added. “Where is your command?”

“That remains to be found out,” answered Ben. “Have you seen any of them during the last two hours? I and one of my men became separated from them in the cane-brakes.”

“I guess you’ll find them up near Baliuag. Most of the troops are up there. But I wouldn’t try going around by this road, for the rebels are scattered in small bands all over this territory. You’ll find the main road all right.”

“What will you do with these prisoners?”

“Take them up to the main road and send to the colonel for orders.”

“Then I will go with you,” said Ben, and spoke to the others about it. Soon the whole party was on the way, Sorrel and Jeming carrying the dead form of Sergeant Kaser between them, with Casey trudging near to give them a lift whenever necessary.

It was now growing dark, and looked as if a thunderstorm was at hand. Seeing this, the detachment pushed forward rapidly, until at last the main road was gained. Here, from one of the drivers of a quartermaster’s turnout, they learned that Ben’s regiment had gone into temporary camp on the outskirts of the town of Baliuag, which was a mile further on. A number of Americans were missing, having become lost in a manner similar to Ben and Casey.

The young captain now lost no time in marching forward once more, and reached his regiment in less than half an hour. He found his company in charge of Gilmore. Many had given him up for dead, and they were delighted at his reappearance.

“We can’t do without you,” said the acting first lieutenant. And as he shook hands his honest face showed that he meant what he said.

“And I don’t know that I can do without my company,” replied Ben. “Anyway, I’m awfully glad to be back. In the future, I must be a little more careful about keeping the boys in sight.”

CHAPTER XVI
NEWS FROM HOME

It was evident that the majority of the insurgents had now had enough of fighting, for while the engagement just mentioned was taking place, General Luna of the Filipinos sent forward his chief of staff to General MacArthur, with a request that hostilities cease, pending a conference of Americans and Filipinos looking toward a settlement of existing difficulties.

But our leaders knew only too well what delay meant, and refused to enter into any compact unless the natives first threw down their arms. The Filipinos wanted their freedom, but events had now so shaped themselves that absolute freedom for them appeared to be out of the question. So the conference practically amounted to nothing. And while this was taking place, General Hale began to move eastward to join General Lawton’s command on its march toward San Isidro. It was the policy of all the American commanders to give the Filipinos no rest during the short time left to them before the heaviest of the rainy season set in.

A rest of two days did Ben’s company a world of good. Communications with Malolos were now opened, and supplies were coming forward rapidly. With the supply wagons came Carl Stummer, just from the hospital and still somewhat “shaky,” but eager to be again on the firing line.

“I could not dink me of stayin’ any longer,” he said, as he shook hands all around. “Der docther say, ‘You vos besser here,’ und I say, ‘I ton’t gits me no besser bis I schmell dot powder purning vonce more alretty!’”

“Well, it’s powdher ye’ll be afther shmellin’ soon,” put in Dan Casey. “It’s forward we go to-morrow, so th’ colonel is afther sayin’.”

“Goot!” said Carl. Then he added with a faint smile. “You see, Tan, I vos afraid you kill all dem Filibenos off pefore I could git here.”

“Sure an’ I saved a couple fer ye, Carl,” replied his chum. “Ye’ll not be wantin’ fer a scrap, I’ll warrant!” And then he related his own and Ben’s adventures, to which the German volunteer listened with much interest.

The wagon train had brought in the mail, and this included the usual letters for Ben – one from Walter and the other from Uncle Job Dowling. Ben breathed a long sigh as he opened the communications.

“I’m going to spring a surprise on you,” so wrote Walter. “I’ve been reading the newspapers, and it makes me weary to think that I am just cruising around with our squadron doing nothing, while you and Larry are right in it, head and heels. I’ve applied for a transfer to one of the warships in Manila waters, and it may be that before this reaches you I will be on the bounding Pacific on my way to join you and Larry in our fight with Aguinaldo and his supporters. Si Doring, my old Yankee chum, has applied with me, so we’ll probably come on together, and when we get there you and Larry will have to look to your laurels, that’s all.”

“Dear Walter!” murmured Ben, after reading the letter twice. “What will he say when he hears that Larry is missing? If Larry doesn’t show up, it will break his heart, and it will break mine, too!” And he brushed away the tears that sprang up in spite of his efforts to keep them down. Then he turned to the heavy, twisted scrawl from his Uncle Job.

“It’s rare good news you have sent, Ben,” wrote the old man, after stating that he was in good health, “and the news comes none too soon, for the party who took a mortgage on my house wants his money, and where I am going to get it I don’t know, with money so tight and interest and bonus so high. I’ve told him that Braxton Bogg is captured, – and he saw it in the newspaper, too, – and he is about of a mind to wait for his money now until the bank gets back what was stolen, and settles up. For myself, I can’t hardly wait till that time comes; and after this you can be sure I’ll be mighty careful where I put my cash and what’s coming to you three boys, too. You won that thousand dollars’ reward fairly, and I hope you and Larry won’t squander it like most soldiers would. I thought that war would end soon, but it appears like it would go on forever. Tell Larry to take good care of himself, and mind that you don’t get shot.”

 

“Poor Uncle Job – he’ll be in a hole again,” murmured Ben. “Evidently he wrote this right after I sent word Braxton Bogg was caught, and he doesn’t know anything of my being shot and getting over it, and of Benedicto Lupez skipping out with what Bogg stole. Hang the luck, but everything seems to be going wrong.” And Ben grated his teeth, in a mood hard to explain.

“What’s up, Ben?” The question came from Gilbert, who had just come up to watch the young captain, in considerable surprise.

Ben showed the two communications. “I’m just thinking of what I had best write to my Uncle Job,” he returned. “I’m afraid it will break the old fellow’s heart to learn that the money is gone – and after he is trying to turn over a new leaf, too.”

“And the news about Larry will cause him pain, too, I reckon.”

“No doubt, but – but – well, between you and me, Gilbert, I’m afraid the money will hurt the worst – Uncle Job always did set such a store by a few dollars. As for me, I’d give all I’ll ever be worth if only I knew Larry was safe,” concluded the young captain, arising from a seat under a palm tree as Major Morris came forward to speak to him.

“Captain, I’m ordered to the front to-night, to do a little reconnoitring,” said the major of the first battalion. “I thought perhaps you would like to go out with me. Possibly we can again get on the track of that Bogg fortune;” and he smiled faintly, for he had been with Ben on the night Braxton Bogg had been first made a prisoner.

“I’ll go out with you gladly,” answered the young captain, promptly. “But I doubt if that money is ever found – or my brother Larry, either,” he added, with bitterness.

“Oh, cheer up, captain, you are blue to-night. Come, a little danger will put you on your mettle once more, and you’ll forget all about this thing – although I’ll allow it’s enough to make anybody heart-sick.”

Supper was served, and the sun had long since sunk to rest over the vast plain and ocean to the westward, when Ben and Major Morris set out, taking with them an ample supply of ammunition and likewise a day’s rations, for they were to move directly into the heart of the enemy’s country and might be absent for a day or longer. The object of their going was to find out if a certain Lieutenant Caspard, who had deserted the American ranks, was with the rebels now gathering at Maasin, and if so, whether or not he was acting as an officer of the Filipino forces. If they could catch the deserter and bring him back, they were to be well rewarded. Strange to say, the orders were not to shoot him if it could be avoided.

“It’s a strange mission,” said Major Morris, as they set out. “But such are Colonel Darcy’s orders, and he is backed up in them by the general. Between you and me, I think this Caspard has been playing a double game between our forces and those of the Filipinos, and those at headquarters want to find out just what it means. One man told me that this Caspard was out of his head, and had an idea that he could stop the war by telling the rebels we would grant them everything they want if only they would throw down their arms.”

“Would the rebels swallow such a yarn?”

“Some of the more ignorant might. But that isn’t the point; Caspard may have given them some military information of vast importance. You must remember we are in a territory that may be full of pitfalls for us,” concluded the major.

Ben thought but little of the ending of this speech at the time, but had good cause to remember it before midnight. On they pushed past the picket guard and on to a side road which it was said would bring them around to the north side of Maasin. Both were in fairly good humor by this time, and the major told many an anecdote of army life which made Ben laugh outright. The major saw that his companion was indeed “blue,” and was bound to dispel the blues if it could be done.

“And that story puts me in mind of one on General Grant,” he continued presently. “Grant was sitting in his tent one night when – ”

“Hush!” interrupted Ben, and caught his companion by the shoulder. Then he pointed into the semi-darkness ahead. “Are those rebels, or friends?”

The road they were pursuing was, for the most part, a winding one. But they had now gained a straight stretch, the farther end of which was somewhat in the open. Looking in that direction Ben had discerned six or seven figures stealing silently along, guns on shoulders and packs on their backs.

Major Morris came to a halt and surveyed the figures attentively. “I don’t believe they are our men,” he whispered. “None of the troops came as far as this – so the general stated.”

“Then, if they are rebels, what have they been doing?” went on Ben. “See, they have picks and shovels and axes.”

“Perhaps it’s an engineering corps,” and the major laughed softly at what he considered his little joke. “These Tagals are bound to be up-to-date, you know.”

“Well, if they are an engineering corps, what have they been doing?” demanded the young captain, who felt by no means satisfied at his companion’s words.

“I’ll give it up – no, I won’t, I’ll go forward and investigate,” came from the major. “There they go, around the turn, and walking just as fast as they can. If we want to catch up to them, we will have to hurry.”

“We don’t want to get too close, major. They are not the game we are after, remember.”

“True, captain, but it won’t do any harm to find out what we can of them. We may be doing General Lawton a great service by such an action.”

The night was cloudy, and as they pushed forward to the bend in the road it became darker than ever, until they could see hardly anything of what was ahead of them. The way was evidently little used, for the grass grew thickly even in the centre of the highway.

The pair were going on, side by side, and with eyes strained to catch sight of those who had gone before, when suddenly Major Morris felt the ground giving way beneath him. “My gracious!” he ejaculated, and caught Ben by the arm. At the same instant the young captain uttered a cry, and also felt himself going down. Then came the snapping of slender bamboo poles, and the scattering of some loose grass, and down into darkness and space shot the pair, swallowed up utterly by a hole which had unexpectedly opened to receive them.