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

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.

CHAPTER XXX

A RESCUE UNDER DIFFICULTIES

“Nothing here, cap’n.”

It was Boxer the scout who spoke. For two hours he, Ben, and Luke Striker had been examining the trail running along the cliff. They could find footprints without number, but no trace of Larry.

“He must have gone somewhere,” replied Ben, who could not bring himself to give up the hunt. “He wasn’t spirited away. I’ve a good mind to make a hunt at the bottom of the cliff.”

“As you will, cap’n. But, remember, this air side o’ the valley is full of rebs, and if they catch us – ”

“We must be on our guard, Boxer.”

“I’ve got my eyes wide open,” put in Luke. “I reckon on it as how I can see as far as any on ’em, too.”

The walk to the cliff had not been accomplished without difficulty. Twice had they come close to running into the Filipino pickets, and once Luke had been almost certain they were being followed, but the alarm proved false. A night had been spent in the jungle, and at a point within half a mile of where Larry lay senseless under the big tree!

The hunt had revealed to the party the series of rough steps mentioned in the last chapter, and down these they now went and continued their search at the base of the cliff.

“What’s this?” came from the old sailor, presently, and he pointed to the broken sapling hanging in the branches of the big tree. With the sapling was a shred of a garment, fluttering in the breeze like a signal of distress.

A close examination caused them to reach a conclusion which was, as we already know, true; namely, that Larry had come down with the sapling and landed in the big tree.

“And he wasn’t killed, either,” said Boxer. “For here is where he built a fire and cooked some birds’ eggs.”

“And he visited the pool, too,” added Ben, examining the tracks with care. “Funny tracks these,” he added, a second later.

“He was hopping on one foot,” announced the scout, gravely. “That looks as if he had one leg hurt.”

It was an easy matter to follow the trail through the jungle, for the ground was damp and covered with a moss which was torn with ease. Soon they reached the clearing where Larry had stopped to examine his ankle.

“Hullo, more footprints!” ejaculated Boxer, his face falling. “And rebs, too, I’ll wager a new hat. Cap’n, I’m afraid your brother has run into worse trouble.”

“It certainly looks like it,” answered Ben. “Where do the footprints lead to?”

Where but back to the very rocks down which they had come but a few hours before! Soon they were back at the top of the cliff again.

Before leaving the valley Boxer studied the footprints closely, and now, although there were other footprints above, he followed the party having Larry in charge without making a single error. But it was slow work, and the encampment of the Filipinos was not discovered until nightfall.

“We’ve tracked ’em to a finish,” announced Boxer. “Don’t go any further, cap’n – unless you are ready to do some tall shooting.”

“I can do some shooting if it’s necessary,” answered Ben, with a determined look on his face which was not to be mistaken. “I should like to make sure my brother is here.”

“We’ll walk around the camp and see,” said Boxer, and this they did, slowly and cautiously, each with his weapons ready for immediate use. But the Filipinos were busy eating their suppers and smoking cigarettes, and did not discover them.

“There’s Larry!” cried Luke, after a while. And he pointed to one side of the camp. The guards were just taking the lad to the general to be sentenced.

“Yes, yes!” answered Ben. He handled his pistol nervously. He could hardly restrain himself from rushing forward and embracing the long lost. Boxer saw what was in his mind and held him back.

“Don’t be rash, cap’n,” whispered the scout. “If you are, it may cost all of us our lives.”

“I will try to be careful,” was the answer, with an effort. “But what are they going to do with him?”

“They are taking him over to yonder tent.”

Soon Larry disappeared inside the tent, and they crouched behind the bushes to await developments. While waiting, Ben made a mental calculation of the number of the enemy.

“A battalion, or more,” he said to Boxer. “I wonder what they are doing so far from the main body of the troops?”

“Oh, their army is becoming badly scattered, cap’n. General Lawton has ’em on the run, and there won’t be any of ’em left when he gets through with ’em.”

As we know, the scene in the tent was a short one, and soon they saw Larry come out again, and saw him tied to the tree. The two soldiers detailed to guard him sat on either side of their prisoner, on rocks about six or eight yards from the tree.

“He seems to be the only prisoner in the camp,” whispered Ben. “I wonder if I can’t crawl up and cut him loose. I did that once for Gilbert Pennington.”

“No, no!” interposed Boxer. “Those guards are wide awake and will shoot you in a minute. Wait till it gets darker – we may get a chance to do something then.”

Slowly the minutes drifted by, Ben watching Larry every instant. He saw that his younger brother was exceedingly tired and held one foot up as if in pain. The young sailor had asked if he might not lie down, but this comfort had been denied him.

Both of the guards were puffing vigorously on their cigarettes, when one chanced to throw down a lighted match close to the rock upon which he was sitting. It set fire to some dry grass, but instead of putting it out, the guard watched the tiny conflagration grow stronger.

“Playing with fire, eh?” said his mate, lightly.

“Yes,” was the slow answer. “How I would like to see Manila go up like that!”

“Yes, I would like to see that, too, Carlos, and the Americans in the flames. Ah, but the day when we are to take the capital seems a long way off now.”

“Never mind; Aguinaldo says he is soon to have reënforcements from the south. When they come, let the American dogs beware!”

The talk was carried on in the Tagalog dialect, so Larry understood not a word. In the meantime, the fire crept up, making the guard’s seat anything but comfortable.

“That’s too much,” he observed, and was on the point of kicking the fire out with his foot, when of a sudden he uttered a wild yell that startled everybody near him. “A snake! a snake! Oh, what a long creature!”

For from under the rock a huge reptile had glided, roused up by the heat. It was a snake peculiar to those mountains, and all of ten feet long and as thick as a man’s arm. It struck the guard in the knee, and then whipped around in increased anger, for its tail had come in contact with the fire.

“A snake!” echoed the second guard, and fired his Mauser at the reptile. But he was too excited to shoot straight, and the bullet glanced along the rock and struck the first guard in the cheek, inflicting a fairly serious wound.

The cries of the two guards’ were taken up on all sides of the camp, and especially in the vicinity of the rock from under which the reptile had appeared. All the soldiers recognized the snake as a dangerous enemy; and as the reptile moved about, first one and then another ran to get out of its way, several in the meantime taking hasty shots at it, but failing to do any serious damage. For several minutes the prisoner was entirely forgotten.

It was Ben who saw the opportunity, – Ben and the ever-faithful Luke, – and rushing up, they cut Larry’s bonds and fairly hustled him into the depth of the jungle behind the encampment. The young sailor could hardly understand what was taking place, but when he recognized his brother and his old messmate, he gave a shout of joy.

“You, Ben! and Luke! Oh, I must be dreaming!”

“No, you are not dreaming, Larry. We’ve been watching you for a long while, trying to do something. Can you run?”

“No; I sprained my ankle, and it is still sore.”

“I’ll carry him,” said Luke. “You lead the way, cap’n. And Boxer had better bring up the rear guard.”

“Right you are,” came from the scout. “Have your weapons ready, cap’n. We may catch it hot, in spite of the alarm over the snake. Those rebs will be as mad as hornets when they find the lad is missing.”

Away they went, Ben trying to find an easy path, – which was no small thing to do in that utter darkness, – and Luke coming up behind, breathing like a porpoise, but vowing he could carry Larry a mile were it necessary. Boxer kept as far to the rear as he dared without missing their trail, and the life of any Filipino who might have appeared would not have been worth a moment’s purchase at the scout’s hands.

They had covered but a few hundred yards when the shouting and firing at the encampment ceased. “I guess the snake is dead,” said Ben. “Now they’ll be after us.”

The young captain was right; and soon they heard the enemy breaking through the jungle in detachments of three or four men each, all hot-footed to recapture the prisoner. They had observed the cut ropes and wondered if it was possible that Larry had severed them without assistance.

It was not long before Boxer got a good shot at the nearest of the pursuers. His aim was true, and the Tagal went down without so much as a groan. His companions stopped short, and then called some other soldiers to the scene. “The boy is armed and shoots like a sharpshooter,” they told each other; and after that the search was continued with extra care. Of course Boxer kept out of sight; and as soon as he could, he joined Ben and the others.

“I think there must be a stream close at hand, – the one we crossed a few days ago,” said he. “If we can get to that, we’ll have some chance to hide.”

“Let’s get to it, then,” gasped Luke, who felt that he could keep up but a short while longer.

“I’ll take Larry, Luke,” put in Ben, and the transfer was made, in spite of the old sailor’s protests. Then Luke plunged ahead and soon announced that he could see the river through the bushes to the right. Soon they came out on some rocks. The stream was a mountain torrent, a rod wide and from two to three feet deep. They plunged in without delay.

As they could not walk against such a current, they followed the stream on its downward course almost to the edge of the cliff, where the torrent formed a pretty series of waterfalls. Then they crossed to the other side, and climbed into a tree growing directly at the water’s edge, – a species of willow, with long, drooping branches.

“We ought to be safe here – at least for a while,” said Boxer.

“It’s hard to tell where one would be safe here,” answered Ben. “The whole country seems to be invested with scattered bands of the insurgents.”

He asked Larry about himself, and in a few words the younger brother told his story. Then Boxer stopped the talk.

“In a situation like this, it’s best to have only ears and eyes,” he said, and all saw at once the aptness of the remark.

But though they remained on guard the larger part of the night, nobody came to disturb them, and the only sound that broke the stillness was that of the water as it tumbled over the rocks below.

Ben was much worried over Larry’s ankle, which had begun to swell again through having stood so long on it while being tied to the tree. He brought a canteen of water up from the stream and bathed it with this. This moistened the mashed-up leaves once more, and then the injured member felt better, and Larry caught a nap.

“I reckon we had better be moving again,” said Boxer, while it wanted yet an hour to daylight. “Those rebs may be waiting for to see us, you know.”

“Well, my brother can’t run, so perhaps it will be just as well if you take a scout around and see if the coast is clear,” said Ben.

“Certainly, cap’n.” And Boxer made off without delay, moving through the jungle and along the stream as silently as some wild animal in search of its prey.

Fifteen minutes and more passed, and they began to wonder when the scout would come back, when a low whistle reached their ears.

“It’s all right,” came from Boxer.

“Nobody in sight?” questioned Ben.

“Nary a reb, cap’n.”

“I’m glad of it,” put in Larry, with a sigh of relief. “I never want to fall in with them again!” And he shuddered. He would never forget how close he had been to death at their hands.

They came down the tree, and after a drink from the stream, set out again, this time following the watercourse over the rocks until the cliff was left behind. Here they struck a bit of marsh and had to make a detour, finally coming out, much to their surprise, on what appeared to be a regular highway through the forest.

“Now, if we only knew where this leads to,” cried Ben.

“I reckon it leads to San Isidro,” came from Boxer. “But we may be a good number of mil – ”

“Look! look!” ejaculated Striker, pointing up the road. “The rebels, as sure as you air born! An’ they air comin’ about a thousand strong, too. Boys, we air lost!”

CHAPTER XXXI

THE FALL OF SAN ISIDRO – CONCLUSION

Luke Striker was right; a large force of Filipinos were sweeping down the road at a rapid rate, bringing with them two old field-pieces and a rapid-firing gun. They were commanded by several officers on horseback, and presented a formidable appearance to the worn-out Americans.

“Out of sight, quick!” The cry came from Ben. “It’s our only chance to escape.”

The words had scarcely left his lips when the pop-pop of several Mausers was heard, as the Filipino sharpshooters, who were in advance of the main body, opened fire upon them. Their aim was excellent, and both Striker and Boxer were hit, although neither seriously.

“They’ve caught me!” ejaculated the old sailor, and staggered up against Ben. At the same time Boxer pitched headlong.

“Oh, Luke!” The call came from Larry, who was limping painfully. “Where did they hit you? This is the worst of all!”

“I’m struck in the shoulder. But come, Ben is right. To the jungle!” And Striker clutched Larry’s hand in a death-like grip, bound to live or die with his closest friend, as the case might be.

The pair started forward. Ben hesitated and looked at Boxer, and saw the latter try to stagger up once more. “He’s not dead,” thought the young captain, and picked the sharpshooter up. In a few seconds more the whole party were in the jungle again.

But the Filipinos were not going to let them escape thus easily, and coming up on the double-quick, a detachment began to search the bushes, at the same time calling on the Americans to surrender if they wanted to save their lives.

With Larry limping painfully, and both Luke and Boxer groaning in spite of their efforts to keep silent, the Americans looked about for some spot which might prove a safe hiding-place. But the ground here was level and the jungle rather spare, and for those who were wounded to climb trees was out of the question.

“We’ll have to make a stand, I’m afraid,” said Ben, looking to his pistol to see if it was fully loaded. “They are coming – Hark!”

The young captain broke off short, as a loud shouting from the road interrupted him. Then came a volley of musketry, followed by a steady stream of shots.

“We’ve got them this time, boys!” came in a ringing, English-speaking voice. “Forward, and don’t let a man of them escape. On to San Isidro!”

“Our troops!” cried Larry. “Oh, God be praised that they are coming this way!”

“Yes, yes, our troops!” ejaculated Ben. “And what is more, my regiment!” The revulsion of feeling was so great that he felt like dancing a jig.

The shouting and firing now increased, until it was almost upon them. Then followed a rush into the woods, and the little party found itself face to face with a score of Filipinos.

At first our friends were greatly alarmed, and Ben and Larry did their best to defend themselves by firing as rapidly as possible at the Tagals as they appeared. But the enemy was retreating, and gave the little party scant attention. Then came a yell close at hand, and in a few seconds a squad of American soldiers burst through the thicket.

“Dan Casey!” cried Ben, as he recognized the Irish volunteer.

“Sure, an’ is it Captain Russell?” came from the soldier, joyfully. “It is, the saints be praised! We’ve been a-wonderin’ what had become of yez!”

“Town mit dem Filibinos!” The call came from Carl Stummer, and soon he also put in an appearance. “Dis vos von lucky tay,” he said, when he saw the party. “Ve haf dem repels on der run like neffer vos.”

“Then send them a-flying, Stummer,” answered Ben. “Where is our camp?”

“Pack dere apout half a mile. Ve vos move up las’ night und steal von march on dem Filibinos.”

There was no time to say more, excepting to stop several of the soldiers, and assisted by these, the whole party moved to the rear, through line after line of American troops now hurrying to the firing line, for it was General Lawton’s plan to give the Filipinos no rest until San Isidro and the territory in its vicinity were captured.

Inside of half an hour, Ben had seen to it that Larry, Luke, and Boxer were all made comfortable, and then, hastily swallowing a bowl of coffee and some bread and meat, he hurried after his command, which was threshing the jungle just outside of San Isidro for scattered bands of the enemy such as the young captain and his party had met. Soon Ben was on the firing line once more, and warmly greeted by Major Morris, Gilmore, and his other friends.