Part 22 (1/2)

”They say General Lawton puts it down as a regular Indian campaign.

But then the rebels don't do much fighting in the dark.”

”They are sick of it, Gilmore. I believe they would give up in a minute if the leaders were only a.s.sured that they would come out whole, as the saying goes.”

”Well, they've gone too far to come out whole, captain. General Aguinaldo may mean well, but he never went at this thing right. He ought to know that he isn't dealing with some third-rate power.”

On went the regiment, about four hundred and fifty strong now, for men were dropping out every day on account of fever and other tropical troubles. Ben had had a little fever himself, but had dosed himself with quinine before it had a chance to permeate his system and bring him down on his back.

The advance led the regiment along a small stream lined with fading flowers and wild plantains and the ever present thorns and trailing vines. Birds were numerous, and here and there a sporting soldier could not resist the temptation to bring one of the feathered tribe down, to be cooked at the next resting place. Once the regiment stirred up a flock of wild turkeys, and a charge was made to capture the prizes, a charge that was as enthusing as one on the rebels.

Soldiers are but human and must have their fun, no matter under what difficulties.

”It's a fine turkey dinner we'll be afther havin' to-day,” remarked Dan Casey, as he hung one of the birds over his shoulder. He had scarcely spoken, when pop-pop went several Mausers in a thicket beyond, the bullets singing their strange tune in the leaves over the advancers' heads.

”Forward!” shouted Major Morris, who was in temporary command of the regiment, and away they went once more, to suddenly find themselves on spongy soil which speedily let them down to their ankles. In the meantime the insurgents' fire became thicker than ever, and it looked as if they were caught in an ambush.

”Fire at will!” came the order. ”To the left, boys, and make every shot tell!”

A roar of musketry drowned out the words, and immediately Ben's company found itself all but surrounded. To go into this quagmire had certainly been a grave error, but all leaders make mistakes sometimes; and Major Morris was suffering as greatly as his men.

The next half hour was one Ben never forgot. The rebels evidently thought they had the Americans at their mercy and pushed in closer and closer, until more than half of the contestants were fighting hand to hand. Many had exhausted their ammunition, and were using their bayonets or else handling their guns as clubs.

”Die!” cried one tall Tagal, as he flashed up before Ben with a b.l.o.o.d.y bolo. ”Die!” he repeated in bad English, and made a lunge at the young captain. But Gilmore had his eye on the man, and the lieutenant's sword cut the bolo from the rebel's grasp.

”Good for you!” cried Ben. Then he drew a long breath, to think of the narrow escape he had had. The native, his hand flowing with blood, retreated as suddenly as he had approached.

The tide of the battle was now taking Americans and insurgents toward a cane-brake. The rebels still fought desperately, but they were beginning to lose confidence, for the Americans were pus.h.i.+ng them hard.

But now came a cheer from the rear, and Company B rushed up to the aid of Ben's command. To the young captain's astonishment, Gilbert was in command, all the upper officers being either killed or wounded.

”Gilbert!” he called, but had no time to say more. But the young Southerner heard and waved the sword he had picked up. Soon the two companies were fighting shoulder to shoulder, and the enemy were driven out into the cane-field, and then into a meadow. Here they tried to make a stand, around an old rice-house, and it took another half hour to dislodge them. But when they did retreat at last, they went in great haste, many leaving their weapons and outfits behind them.

The fighting over, Ben started to find the major. Gilbert accompanied him. Their first hunt for the commander, however, was unsuccessful.

”It's queer,” was Ben's comment. ”I trust he isn't dead in the bushes.”

The hunt gradually brought them to a trail through the jungle, and presently Gilbert heard a faint moan for help. Running in the direction, they found a soldier of Company C lying on some moss, his knee shattered from a Mauser bullet.

”Oh, the pain!” groaned the poor fellow. ”Help me, won't you?”

”We'll do all we can for you,” answered Ben, and while he went to work, Gilbert ran back to bring up the hospital corps with a stretcher.

”You want to go after Major Morris,” said the wounded soldier, as soon as he felt comfortable enough to talk.

”We are looking for Major Morris,” replied Ben, much astonished.

”Where is he?”

”He was knocked over by one of the Dagos, and then three of 'em carried him away.”