Part 29 (2/2)

”What's that? more rebels?” cried Ben, and listened.

”No, no, the Filipinos are retreating!” came from a score of throats.

”See, they are scattering like sheep! Up the hill, fellows; the fight is ours!” And a regular stampede occurred, each command trying to get to the top of the ridge first. The rebels were indeed retreating into a thicket behind the ridge. They went less than half a mile, however, and then made another stand, this time on the upper side of a mountain stream,--the very stream at which Larry and his companions had stopped after the escape from the caves under the mountain.

To ford the stream would have been an easy matter under ordinary circ.u.mstances, but with the rebels guarding the upper bank, it was extremely hazardous, and the regiment came to a halt on the edge of the brush overhanging the water.

”They are straight ahead, boys,” said Major Morris, after his scouts had reported to him. ”We will make a detour to the right. Forward, and on the double-quick!”

Every soldier felt that delay would mean a serious loss, and a rapid rush was made through the jungle to a point where the stream became rocky and winding. Here an excellent ford was found, and they went over in column of fours. They could now enfilade the rebels' position, and this they did so disastrously that the Filipinos speedily threw down a large part of their arms and fled helter-skelter into the mountain fastnesses still further to the northward.

The battle over, the battalion came to rest under the shade of the trees lining the stream, many of the soldiers throwing themselves down in a state bordering upon exhaustion, for the humidity in the air told upon them greatly. There was not a breath of a breeze, and the water hardly quenched the thirst that raged within them. As Major Morris declared, 'It was the primest place to catch a fever in' he had ever seen.

Ben was sitting at the foot of a tall tree talking to Gilmore, when he saw the advance guards bringing in two Americans, one evidently a sailor. At once he sprang to meet the sailor, thinking the man might know something about Larry.

The two men proved to be Dan Leroy and Boxer, the scout, and when he mentioned his brother's name to them, both were of course astonished.

”Do we know him!” cried Leroy. ”Sure and didn't he and I run away together from the rebels, and Boxer, here, helping us to get out of the prison caves. Yes, yes, I know Larry well.” And then Leroy told of the escape from the caves, and of how all three of the party had become lost in the swamp lands.

”We were in the swamps two days, and thought we would never get out,”

he continued. ”Luckily, we had some caribao meat with us; otherwise we should have starved to death. The swamps were full of mosquitoes and lizards and lots of other things, and we were almost eaten up alive, eh, Boxer?”

”So we were,” replied the scout.

”But what of my brother?” asked Ben, impatiently.

At this the faces of both of the men fell.

”We can't say what became o' him,” said the sailor from the _Yorktown_. ”You see, after we got out of the swamp, we determined to stick to the high ground until we found a regular trail leading to the south. Well, our walk took us up to a high cliff overlooking a gorge filled with trees and bushes. We were walking ahead, with Larry at our heels, as we thought, when Boxer chanced to look around, and the boy was gone.”

”Gone!” gasped Ben, in horror.

”Yes, gone! We couldn't understand it, and called to him, but he didn't answer. Then we went back about quarter of a mile, past the spot where we had seen him last, and fired the pistol as a signal. But he had disappeared totally, and we couldn't find hide nor hair o' him, try our level best.”

The confession was a sickening one, and for several minutes Ben could not trust himself to speak.

”And--and what do you think became of my brother?” he asked, at length.

Both men shrugged their shoulders. ”I'm afraid he fell over the cliff,” said Boxer. ”You see, the footpath was narrow and mighty slippery in spots.”

At once Ben's mind went back to that scene in far-away Cuba, when Gerald Holgait had fallen over a cliff. Had a similar fate overtaken his brother? and if so, was he still alive or had he been dashed to his death?

”How far is that spot from here?” he demanded abruptly.

”Not over a mile, cap'n,” answered Boxer.

”I see you are a scout. Can you take me to the place?”

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