Part 19 (1/2)

”You can take care of yourselves,” answered the young captain, and rus.h.i.+ng 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?”