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

CHAPTER XVII
IN AND OUT OF A STRANGE PITFALL

Major Morris and Ben had fallen into a pit dug by the Filipinos for the purpose of catching their enemies. It was an old trick, and one which had been used quite extensively at the opening of the rebellion, but which was now falling into disuse, for the reason that few Americans were ever caught by the device.

The method was to dig a square hole in the centre of some trail or road which the Americans would probably use in their advance. At the bottom of this hole would be planted upright a number of sharp bamboo sticks, and then the top would be covered over with slender bamboo sticks and loose grass or palm leaves. If one or more persons stepped upon the top sticks, they would break at once, and the unfortunates would fall upon the sharp points below, which were certain to inflict more or less serious injury.

Fortunately, however, for the young captain and his companion, the hole into which they had tumbled was not provided with the sharp sticks mentioned. The natives had just finished the opening when an officer had called upon them to leave the vicinity as it was getting dangerous, owing to the rapid advances made by the Americans. So the trap had been set with its most dangerous element lacking.

Yet the fall was by no means a pleasant one, and for a brief instant the young captain of Company D thought that the bottom had dropped out of everything, and that he would surely be killed. He tried to catch hold of something, but all he could reach was the major’s shoulder, and then both landed with a thud on the soft dirt left at the bottom of the hole.

Ben was the first on his feet, which was not saying much, since the bottom of the opening was not level, and he stood in the soft loam up to his ankles. Shaking himself to find that no bones were broken, he drew a long breath.

“Major, are you all right?” he asked.

“No – no – I’m not all – all right,” came with a gasp. “I’ve had my wi – wind knocked ou – out of me.”

“Any bones broken?”

“I gue – guess not. But wh – who ever heard of such a con – founded trick?”

“I’ve heard of it several times, major. But we are not as bad off as we might have been had the rebels put some sharp sticks down here to spit us with.”

“True.” Major Morris gave a grunt, and wiped the dirt from his eyes. “Well, I reckon we’ve learned what their engineering corps was up to.”

This was said so dryly that in spite of his discomfiture Ben was compelled to laugh.

“Yes, we’ve learned. The question is, now we are down here, how are we going to get out?”

“Better make a light and see how deep the hole is first,” replied the commander of the first battalion.

Fortunately Ben had plenty of matches with him, and striking one, he lit a bamboo stalk and held it up as a torch. By the flickering light thus afforded they saw that the hole was about eight feet wide and twice as long. The level of the road above was fully eight feet over their heads.

“Looks as if we were in a box, eh, captain?” said the major, grimly.

“We’re certainly in a hole,” responded Ben. “But I think we can get out without much trouble. I wish we had a spade.”

“Well, wishing won’t bring one, and there is nothing here to take the place of one, either.”

“Nothing but our hands. Here, if you’ll hold the light, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Here is a bit of a flat stick, try that,” rejoined Major Morris; and taking the article mentioned, Ben set to work with vigor, attacking one end of the hole by loosening the dirt so that a large portion of it soon fell at their feet. Standing upon the fallen portion he continued his operations, and presently more of the dirt fell, leaving an incline up which both began to scramble on hands and knees. It was not a very dignified thing to do, but it was far better than to remain in the hole, and besides, there was nobody at hand to comment on the want of dignity in the movement.

“We are well out of that,” began Major Morris, brushing off his clothing as he spoke. “In the future – ”

“Hold on, major, somebody is coming,” interrupted Ben, and pulled his companion back. He had seen a faint light advancing toward them, from a side road which joined the main road at a point but a few yards distant. Soon he made out a heavy cart approaching, drawn by a pair of caribaos, or water buffaloes. On the seat of the cart sat two sleepy-looking natives.

“We must stop that cart,” was the major’s comment. “If we don’t, there will be a bad smash-up.”

“I don’t think it’s a good plan to expose ourselves,” replied Ben.

“But do you want those chaps to break their necks?” demanded the commander of the first battalion. “More than likely they are amigos.”

“I’ve got a plan for warning them, major.”

As Ben spoke he picked up some of the driest of the grass and palm leaves and applied a match to the stuff. It blazed up readily, and he threw the mass in with the other stuff about the edge of the hole.

“There, if they can’t see that they must be blind,” he said. “Come, let us get out,” and off they ran for the thicket close at hand. From here they watched the cart and saw it come to a halt near the hole and knew that the turnout was safe.

“I shouldn’t think the rebels would care to leave those holes about,” was Major Morris’ comment, as they pushed on once more. “They are as dangerous to their own people as they are to us.”

“I suppose they tell their own people about them.”

“Those men on the buffalo cart evidently knew nothing.”

“The rebels don’t care for the amigos. Their idea is, if a native is not with them, he is against them, and must suffer with the Americans.”

To play the part of spies in such a country as this was not easy, for the Americans were easily distinguished from the natives. Had Ben and the major spoken Spanish fluently, they might have passed for Spaniards, as each was tanned from constant exposure to the strong sun. But this could not be, and so they had to go ahead and trust to luck to see them through with their dangerous errand.

At length they felt that they must be close to the enemy’s picket line, and paused to consider the situation. Before them was a gentle slope, terminating at a small but deep stream which flowed into the Rio Grande River.

“I think some of the rebels are over there,” said the major, pointing to a hill, from the top of which could be seen a faint glow. “There is certainly a camp-fire back there.”

“There is a house just below us,” returned Ben. “Or is it a mill?”

“A mill most likely. They wouldn’t build an ordinary dwelling right at the water’s edge.”

“Perhaps the rebels are using the mill as a sort of headquarters. What do you say if we investigate?”

The major agreed, and they began to pick their way along the stream. Soon they reached a rude bridge, and were on the point of crossing, when a sharp cry rang out from the building they were approaching.

“Hullo, that’s a woman’s voice!” exclaimed Ben. “Somebody is in trouble.”

“Help! thief! murderer!” came in Spanish. “Oh, help, for the love of kind Heaven, help!”

“It’s a woman, true enough!” ejaculated the major. “I wonder what the trouble is?”

“I’m going to find out,” answered Ben. The cry for aid appealed to his heart, and he bounded toward the mill-house, for such the building proved to be, without further hesitation. Nor was Major Morris far behind him.

As they came closer they saw that the structure was dark, saving for a faint light that came from one of the rooms built over the mill stream. It was in this room, evidently, that some sort of struggle was going on, for now both heard the cry for help repeated, followed by the overturning of a table. Then came the voices of two men, and the cry came to a sudden end.

“Two men are misusing some woman,” cried Ben, “come on!” and rushing around to the front of the building, he found the rickety stairs leading to the house floor, and bounded upward. The door at the top stood ajar and he pushed it in, with Major Morris at his heels. The room at hand was dark, the struggle was going on in the apartment next to it.

Ben paused long enough to see that his pistol had not sustained any injury in the tumble into the hole, and was ready for use, and then threw open the door before him.

The light in the room was not very bright, but coming out of the darkness Ben could see but little, for a few seconds. The room was thick with the smoke of cigarettes, and through the haze the young captain made out two men standing beside an overturned table, one with a knife in his hand. To his intense surprise the men were Americans and dressed in the uniforms of regulars.

“What does this mean?” he demanded. “What are you – ”

And then Ben got no further, for a swift look around the room told him that the two men were alone – that the woman he had heard crying for help was not there.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE ADVENTURE AT THE MILL-HOUSE

For the moment it must be confessed that Ben was absolutely dumfounded, and Major Morris also. They had fully expected to see a woman in the hands of the regulars before them, and they could scarcely believe the evidence of their own senses.

But if the officers were astonished, the men they confronted were likewise taken back, and stared in amazement, which quickly gave way to consternation.

“What do you want?” demanded one, as soon as he could speak. And then he glanced over their shoulders to see if the newcomers were alone.

“We thought we heard a woman in trouble,” answered Ben, slowly.

“And we did hear a woman,” put in the major. “Where is she?”

The two regulars exchanged unsteady glances, for each was somewhat the worse for liquor. “There ain’t no woman here,” answered one of them, sullenly.

“Then who was crying for help?” persisted the young captain.

“See here, cap’n, you are on the wrong trail,” came from the older of the regulars. “Me and Bill’s jest been having a little rumpus between ourselves. We meant no harm by it.”

“I don’t believe you,” came from Major Morris, promptly. “There is some mystery here, and as sure as you’re born I’m going to find out what it is!” he went on.

The major had scarcely finished when Ben’s eyes fell to the floor, and he saw the outline of a trap-door under one of the regular’s feet. One edge of the door was raised about half an inch above the floor proper, as if the door had been opened and not put back evenly into place.

“Major, look at that trap-door!” he cried. “I’ll wager they used it while we were coming up the outside stairs.”

“You must be right, captain. If you’ll – ”

“We didn’t use no trap-door,” shouted the younger of the regulars, but he appeared much disconcerted over the discovery Ben had made.

“Captain, I have them covered,” came from Major Morris, as he brought out the two pistols with which he had wisely provided himself. “Perhaps you had better investigate.”

“I will,” returned the young captain, and backed out of the room. The regulars wanted to stop him, but aiming his weapons at them the major told them to hold their peace.

“If everything is all right, you won’t be harmed,” he said. “But it doesn’t look right to me. You have no business here, for one thing.”

“And what business have you here?” demanded the older regular. And then he changed his manner. “We were captured in the fight of last week, and were just trying to get back to our lines again.”

“We’ll talk about that when my friend the captain gets back, my man. If we are treating you unjustly, I’ll apologize and do the handsome thing by you,” he added.

In the meantime Ben was making his way down to the bank of the stream, under the mill, with all possible speed. It was extremely dark, and he had to pick his way with caution for fear of tumbling into some ugly hollow. Below the mill was a fall of water, and here the stream ran between a series of sharp rocks.

Ben had just gained the bank of the stream when a low moan reached his ears. At first he could not locate the sound, but presently discovered that it came from the vicinity of the rocks. Feeling his way along he managed, but not without great difficulty, to gain the top of the rocks. Here he saw the water foaming and boiling twenty feet below.

“That woman must be down there,” he muttered. Then he raised his voice. “Where are you?”

“Down here, by the rocks!” came back faintly. “Help! please help me!”

Locating the voice as well as he was able, the young captain began crawling down from one rock to another. This was difficult work, and he had to move with extreme care for fear of a tumble, which would land him directly into the boiling stream. At last, however, he found himself perched on a bit of a shelf, with the water less than two feet away.

From this point of view he beheld the sufferer, who was swinging in the water, with her arms tightly clutching a sharp stone which reared its point just above the surface of the stream. He saw that she was evidently a Spanish woman, well along in years, and that her dress was sadly torn, and her long hair was floating loosely over her neck and face.

It must be confessed that the young captain was perplexed over the situation that confronted him. The sufferer was just beyond his reach, and he felt that to plunge into the water after her would be to take a big risk, for if the stream at this point was over his waist, the force of the current would carry him off in an instant.

“Can you hold on a few minutes longer?” he called out.

“No! no! I am too weak,” came more faintly than ever. “Help me quickly, and Heaven will reward you!”

“I will do what I can – but you must hold tight for a minute,” answered Ben.

Just above his head a number of bushes were growing, and among these he had espied a long, stout-looking shoot. Clambering to this, he pulled out his pocket-knife and cut it off. Then he leaped down once more, and holding tight to the rocks with one hand, shoved out the branch with the other. “Catch hold, if you can,” he cried.

The woman understood and gave up the rock for the stick, and Ben pulled her toward him. It was no easy task, and once it looked as if she would lose her hold and be swept away. But in a minute the danger was past, and the young captain was hauling her up to where he stood. She was thoroughly exhausted, and no sooner did he have her in his arms than she fainted.

One difficulty had been overcome, but another still remained, and that was to get up to the safe ground above the rocks. But once again the bushes growing out of the crevices came into play, and, hauling himself from one to another, Ben at last found himself safe, with his burden resting heavily over his shoulder.

It was now that the young captain found the woman was suffering from a blow over the left temple, from which the blood was slowly trickling. Laying the form down, he brought out his handkerchief and bound up the wound as well as he was able. This had just been accomplished when the sufferer came again to her senses and stared around her in bewilderment.

“You – you – am I safe?” she asked, in broken English, but in a sweet voice which went straight to Ben’s heart.

“Yes, madam, you are safe,” he answered. “Did those two men throw you into the stream?”

“Yes, yes! Oh, they are villains, señor – great villains.”

“I must say they look it, even if they are of our troops,” replied the young captain. “Come, do you think you can walk back to the mill with me?”

The woman said she would try, and he assisted her to her feet. She was still very weak, and readily consented to lean on his arm; and thus they moved slowly back the way the captain of Company D had come.

During all this time Ben had not heard a sound from the house, and he was anxious to know how Major Morris was faring, although feeling positive that the major was fully capable of taking care of himself. Now, as they came closer, he heard loud talking.

“We ain’t goin’ to stay, major, – an’ it ain’t right fer you to ask us to,” the older of the regulars was saying.

“You will stay, and that’s the end of it,” came in the major’s clean-cut tones. “If you attempt to pass through that doorway, I’ll put a bullet through you.”

“But we are friends, major, and – ”

“I don’t know that I am a friend to you. It depends upon what my companion the captain will have to report when he gets back.”

“He won’t have nuthin’ to report, so far as we are concerned,” put in the younger regular. “We ain’t done any wrong, ’ceptin’ to quarrel a bit between us. Everybody has a set-to once in a while, you know.”

By this time Ben was tramping up the outside stairs, supporting the woman as before. Now he pushed his way into the outer room of the mill-house, the woman following with some hesitancy. At the appearance of their late victim the regulars fell back as though struck a blow.

“Nice sort of chaps you are,” exclaimed Ben, hotly. “You don’t deserve to wear Uncle Sam’s uniform. A set of prison stripes would suit both of you much better.”

“Hullo, you’ve found the lady,” cried the major. “Sit down, madam, and tell us what this means.”

A bench was handy, and the sufferer dropped heavily upon it. The regulars looked as if they wished themselves anywhere but in their present situation, yet they did not dare to budge, for Major Morris still held “the drop” upon them, and the commander of the first battalion looked as if he would stand no nonsense.

“These men came here to rob me,” said the woman, slowly. “They are of your kind, but they are not honest.”

“Then they are not of our kind,” answered Ben, promptly. “We do not allow our soldiers to rob anybody.”

“We didn’t come to steal – ” began the older regular, when Major Morris stopped him.

“Silence! Not another word until the lady has finished her story.”

There was a second of painful silence, and the lady continued: “I am staying at the mill alone, for my husband has gone to the Laguna de Bay on business. Several hours ago, these two soldiers came in and demanded that I serve them with a hot supper. Not wishing to have trouble I gave them the best I had. But they were not satisfied, and broke into my husband’s wine closet and drank two bottles of his choicest wine, and smoked his best cigarettes, package after package. Then, after drinking much wine, they demanded that I give them money, and that man,” pointing to the older prisoner, “told his companion that I must have money hidden somewhere, as all the Spanish mill-owners in Luzon were rich, while the truth is, we are very poor, as the war has taken away everything. Then the men drank more, and at last they caught hold of me and threatened me with great violence if I did not give up what I had hidden away. I gave them the little silver I had, but they were not satisfied, and when I tried to run away, one hit me over the head with this bench. Then they plotted to get me out of the way entirely and go on a hunt for money themselves. I cried louder than ever, and then you started to come in. One of the men had opened that trap leading to the river, and as you came up the outer stairs both dropped me down, no doubt to drown me. I was swept down to the rocks at the falls, and there the capitan saved me, God bless him for it.”

CHAPTER XIX
NEWS OF LARRY

For a minute after the Spanish woman finished, nobody in the mill-house spoke. Her tale had impressed both Ben and the major deeply, and they looked with cold contempt at the two regulars who had so disgraced the uniform they wore.

“This is a fine doings, truly,” said Major Morris, at length. “I wonder what your commander will say when he hears of it.”

“If you please, they have deserted the American army,” put in the woman. “They said as much while they were drinking my husband’s wine.”

“It ain’t so!” burst out the older regular, fiercely. “And that woman has told you a string of – ”

“Shut up!” interrupted the major, sternly. “I will take this lady’s word against yours every time – after what I have witnessed of both of you. Your name, please?”

“I ain’t telling my name jest now,” was the sullen response.

“Aren’t you?” Up came the major’s pistol again. “Your name, I said.”

“Jack Rodgrew.”

“And what is yours?” went on the commander of the first battalion, turning to the younger regular.

The man hesitated for a second. “My name is Jerry Crossing.”

“Indeed! How is it your mate called you Bill awhile ago?”

“Why – er – er – ”

“I don’t believe either of the names is correct,” went on the major.

“He is called Bill, and the other is Yadder,” put in the Spanish woman. “I heard the names many times.”

“Then that will answer, since I also have your company and regiment. Now, then, throw down your cartridge belts.”

“Throw ’em down?” howled the regular called Bill.

“That is what I said. Throw them down at once.”

“But see here, major – ”

“I won’t stop to argue with you. Throw the belts down, or take the consequences.”

“And what will the consequences be?” questioned Yadder.

“The consequences will be that I will form myself into a court-martial, find you guilty of desertion, and shoot you down where you stand. Come, do those belts go down or not?”

“I reckon they go down,” grumbled Yadder; and unloosening the article, he allowed it to slip to the floor, seeing which, his companion followed suit.

“Now both of you hold your hands over your heads, while Captain Russell searches you for concealed weapons.”

“We ain’t got no concealed weapons.”

“I didn’t ask you to talk, I told you to hold up your hands.”

With exceeding bad grace the two deserters, for such they really proved to be, held up their arms. Approaching them, Ben went through one pocket after another and felt in their bosoms. Each had a long native knife, such as are usually used in the rice-fields.

“I suppose you do not call those concealed weapons,” was Major Morris’s comment, as Ben came over to him with the knives and the cartridge belts. The rascals’ guns stood back of the door behind the commander of the first battalion.

“It ain’t fair to take everything away from us,” began Yadder, when two shots, fired in rapid succession, cut him short. The shots came from up the stream and not over fifty yards from the mill-house. Soon followed a shouting of voices, and all in the place knew that a band of rebels were approaching.

“They are after somebody!” exclaimed Ben. “They are coming – ”

The young captain got no further, for just then there sounded a clatter on the outer steps, and a second later an American soldier burst into the mill-house. He was in tatters, and his left arm hung limply by his side, for he had been shot in the shoulder.

“Americans!” he gasped, as he cast a hurried glance about. “Thank God for that! The rebels are after me, half a dozen strong.”

“He went up into the house!” came from without, in the Tagalog dialect.

“After him, men, the Americano must not escape us!”

And then footsteps were heard around the house and on the stairs. Ben and the major looked at each other questioningly. What was to be done?

“The trap,” whispered the young captain. “If they come up here, we can escape through that.”

There was no time to say more, for already the rebels were coming up the stairs, shouting loudly for the escaped Americano to give himself up. They advanced in a body, evidently not caring to separate in the darkness, and thinking to find the man alone.

With quick wit Ben ran and placed the table against the door, and on this piled the bench.

“Now the trap, and be quick!” he whispered, and Major Morris understood. Flinging open the door in the floor he looked down, to behold the stream flowing beneath.

“Follow me – it’s the best way out,” he said to the escaped prisoner. Then he dropped down, holding his pistols over his head, that they might not get wet.

The wounded man was in a desperate humor and lost no time in following. By this time the rebels were hammering lustily on the door which Ben was holding shut.

“What are we to do?” demanded the older of the deserters. “Are you – ”

“You can take care of yourselves,” answered the young captain, and rushing over to the trap-door he let himself through, closing the trap after him. Then came a plunge into the water, but the stream here was less than four feet deep, and he followed Major Morris and the wounded man to the bank without difficulty. A loud shouting came from overhead, followed by a storm of words from both rebels and deserters, and also from the Spanish woman. Fortunately for the woman, among the rebels was a nephew, who at once came to her aid, and had the two deserters from the American army made prisoners.

“We had better put a little distance between ourselves and that mill,” suggested Major Morris, as all three shook the water from their lower garments.

“How is it? are you badly wounded?” asked Ben, turning to their newly made companion.

“Oh, I can go ahead,” said the soldier. “It’s rather painful, though.”

“We’ll take care of it for you at the first chance we get,” added Ben; and then the three set off at a brisk pace along the stream and over the rocks to a grove in which they felt they would be comparatively safe until daylight, if no longer.

As the mill-house was left behind, all became quiet, and in the grove nothing disturbed them but the hum of the insects and the occasional cry of some night bird.

Lighting a match, Ben examined the man’s wound and bound it up with the major’s handkerchief, his own having been left behind with the Spanish woman. The stranger said that his name was Barton Brownell.

“I have been a prisoner of the insurgents for some time,” he said, when asked to tell his story. “I was captured just before our troops took Malolos. They had six prisoners all told, and they took us to a place called Guinalo, which is probably forty miles from here, and up in the mountains.”

“While you were a prisoner did you see or hear anything of a Lieutenant Caspard?” asked Major Morris, quickly.

“To be sure I did!” burst out Barton Brownell. “He came to see me several times. He has joined hands with the insurgents, and he wanted me to join them, too. But I told him I would rot first,” added the wounded man, and his firmness showed that he meant what he said.

“And was Caspard in the field with the rebels?”

“Yes. He was hand in glove with General Luna and the other rebel leaders, and I think he had turned over some messages from General Otis’s headquarters to the rebels. But, candidly speaking, I think Lieutenant Caspard is somewhat off in his head. Once he came to me and said that if only I and the other prisoners would join him, we could end this shedding of blood inside of a week.”

“He must be crazy, to join the rebels,” put in Ben. “Does he hold any position under them?”

“They call him capitan, but if he has such a position, it is merely a nominal one. I think the natives are beginning to suspect that he is not quite right in his mind. But still they love to hear him praise them, and they swallow a good bit of what he says, like so many children.”

For the moment Major Morris was silent. Then he turned to Ben. “Our mission seems to have come to a sudden end,” he said. “Brownell can tell Colonel Darcy all he wants to know.” And he related to the escaped prisoner the reason for their coming beyond the American lines.

“Yes, I reckon I can tell the colonel well enough,” answered Barton Brownell. “For I saw Caspard often, as I mentioned before, and he never knew what it was to keep his tongue from wagging.”

“And how did you escape?” asked Ben, with interest.

“In a very funny way,” and the soldier laughed. “As I said before, we were kept up in the mountains, in a large cave. There were six of our troop, but all told the prisoners numbered twenty-eight. There was a guard of four rebels to keep us from escaping, and an old woman called Mother Beautiful, because she was so ugly, used to cook our food for us – and the food was mighty scanty, I can tell you that.

“Well, one day two of the guards went off, leaving the old woman and the other two guards in sole charge. There had been a raid of some kind the day before, and the guards had some fiery liquor which made them about half drunk. The old woman got mad over this, and she was more angry than ever when one of the guards refused to get her a pail of water from a neighboring spring. ‘I’ll get the water, mother,’ says I, bowing low to her, and would you believe it, she made the two guards let me out, just to get her the water.”

“And the water hasn’t arrived yet,” said Major Morris, laughing.

“No, the water hasn’t arrived yet,” answered Barton Brownell. “As soon as I reached the spring I dropped the pail and ran for all I was worth, and hid in the brush along the mountain side. I stayed there two days and nearly starved to death. Then they hunted me out, and I received this wound. But I escaped them and made my way through the jungle and over the rice-fields to here, and here I am.”

“You say there were twenty-eight prisoners all told,” cried Ben. “Did you ever hear anything of my brother, Larry Russell?”

“Larry Russell?” repeated Barton Brownell, thoughtfully. “To be sure I did. He is a sailor from the Olympia, isn’t he?”

“Yes! yes! And was he with you?”

“He was, at first. But he wasn’t when I left. They moved some of the prisoners away, and he was among them. So he was your brother? That beats all, doesn’t it – to think I should fall in with you in such a place as this!”