CHAPTER XXIIICOLONEL MARTINEZ
Mariawatched with a heavy heart her young friend Phil Perry go cheerfully away to put himself in the hands of the cruel native leader in his endeavor to save the life of a brother officer.
“I never expect to see him alive again,” she whispered sorrowfully to her small brother as he stood with big round eyes of wonder gazing at the military preparations for the attack on the insurgent stronghold.
The next day she and Juan gazed wistfully after the long column of khaki-clad American soldiers as they filed silently past the ranch house, taking the trail over which she and her American friends had ridden so merrily but a few days before.
The guard left at the ranch, consisting of two companies of soldiers, quietly stationed its sentries and took up the monotonousroutine of guarding the many supplies which were arriving by boats from Palilo.
For several long hours the girl brooded over the situation, wondering how she could aid the friends for whom she had learned to hold a high regard. Bemoaning the fate that had made her a helpless woman, she took Juan by the hand and strolled away up the wooded slope toward the family burying grounds where the body of her father peacefully rested. Reaching the newly made mound she placed upon his grave the handful of flowers which she had gathered. In her heart was a great bitterness. Juan, too young to appreciate the magnitude of his loss, chased gleefully the monkeys which chattered in the trees about him, leaping almost into his arms as they eluded his embrace. Following her brother Maria listlessly strolled farther into the gloom of the forest.
Suddenly a low whistle from deeper in the woods attracted her attention. With startled eyes she stopped, her head erect and her bosom heaving in sudden fright.
A MAN STEPPED SILENTLY FROMBEHIND A TREE
A man stepped silently from behind a tree and walked toward her. With a glad cry sheran to him. It was the officer known to the Americans as Colonel Martinez.
“I have heard,” he said sorrowfully as the girl incoherently sobbed the sad news of her father’s death. “I would have come sooner, but I believed the Americans would have been strong enough to prevent it.”
“His last words were for you, Gregorio,” Maria whispered as he patted caressingly her straight black hair. “He hoped that you would follow his example and surrender to General Wilson. Why do you not take your own name again?”
“Sister,” the insurgent officer answered earnestly, “when my father disowned me for fighting under Aguinaldo in the north, I took the name of Remundo, and because I would not surrender after most of my men had been killed or captured I have been declared by the government of the islands an outlaw, and a price was put on my head. I am accused of many crimes of which I am not guilty. I have an enemy, who now stands high in government favor. It was he who harried the country using my name falsely, and for his deeds I am blamed. Captain Blynnhas my written proofs. So you see I could not comply with our father’s wish before, but now I am willing to lay down my life in order that Juan Rodriguez’s soul may rest in peace, which it cannot do until his murderer has received his just punishment.”
While they talked Gregorio Rodriguez had taken the small hand of Juan in his own, leading his sister along a tiny trail away from the river.
“I have a few trusty followers awaiting me a short distance beyond,” he added, “and I wish you both to come with me. Your lives are too precious to allow you to be out of my sight.”
Maria smiled happily and pressed her brother’s hand.
After a quarter of an hour’s walk the forest opened and they found themselves in the midst of a company of native soldiers. The men arose from the ground as their leader passed, doffing their hats to the woman walking so proudly with their officer. Gregorio stood silently in their midst, holding up his hand to demand attention.
In a few short lines he told his men of his real identity and of the horrible murder ofhis father by Espinosa; of the expedition which he had watched start out to attack the stronghold. To serve their best interests, he told them he should surrender with his force to the Americans, who would give them all fair and honorable treatment. Then he raised his voice and excitedly cried:
“Those who still desire to fight against their own interests under a traitor and a murderer may go forth unmolested. At once!” he cried, pointing to the trail leading inland, while his black eyes flashed.
Not a man gave ground; all looked trustfully up to their leader.
“Viva los Americanos,” one shouted and the woods rang with their lusty cheers.
“Will you come to the ranch with me and surrender there to the Americans?” Maria asked, after the cheering had died away.
Gregorio shook his head.
“My first quest is Espinosa,” he replied earnestly. “At once we shall march toward the stronghold. If he is captured or killed in the battle I shall seek General Wilson and surrender myself and men. If Espinosa escapes I shall follow him to the death.”
Maria knew the native spirit too well to attempt to urge her brother to give up this perilous quest of their father’s murderer, so she bowed her head submissively.
An hour saw the band on the march, with Maria and Juan mounted on two ponies; quietly the native soldiers led by Gregorio Rodriguez circled the Americans encamped at the ranch and struck the trail taken in the morning by Captain Blynn and his five hundred soldiers.
Long before they came in sight of the stronghold the distant rumble of musketry and the thunder of artillery told them of the struggle at the top of the mountain.
Despairing of reaching the battle-field by the treacherous trail already covered by the Americans, Gregorio led his party to high ground across the valley from Matiginao. They arrived breathlessly at the summit and viewed the distant figures of men fighting in a hand-to-hand struggle.
Maria gasped in fear as she comprehended the awful sight of the struggle.
“The Americans are victorious,” Gregorio exclaimed excitedly as he saw the wave ofkhaki sweep from two sides across the broad plateau. He saw the native insurgents huddled together in the centre of the American soldiers. But his eager eyes followed a small band of Americans and natives on the right of the mountain; he saw the natives in front of them give way slowly, contesting the battle-field foot by foot, while behind them he saw several score more of natives reach the edge of the plateau and rapidly disappear down the sheer side of the cliff.
“They are escaping,” he cried in sudden alarm. “See, they are holding the Americans back to give those fleeing time to escape. It’s Espinosa,” he shouted hoarsely, beside himself with apprehension.
Between him and the valley at the foot of the precipice, Gregorio knew were many miles of impenetrable jungle, through which there was no trail. Yet he must push through this formidable barrier in an effort to cut off his enemy’s escape. Calling up one of his trusty lieutenants he gave Maria and Juan in his charge.
“Take the trail and join the Americans,” he ordered his sister. “Come,” he commanded,selecting a score of men by a motion of his hand. In another minute Gregorio, followed obediently by his selected followers, had plunged through the dense woods straight down the mountainside toward the avenue of escape over which Espinosa would soon be traveling, while Maria and her guard left their place of vantage and headed for the distant mountain top now in the hands of Captain Blynn and his victorious men.
Laboriously, but spurred forward by the eagerness of their leader, Gregorio and his small band toiled through the dense jungle. The distance was slowly covered and, almost exhausted, they were finally rewarded by reaching the trail leading from the stronghold to the northward.
Gregorio uttered an exclamation of surprise as his knowledge of woodcraft told him that a large force of men had recently passed over this road. Surely he had seen but a few score escape from the plateau.
Nothing daunted, in the lead, he urged his men forward. He would attack, no matter what were the odds against him. Espinosa should not escape!
After several hours of strenuous marching a straggler was found on the side of the trail and after a hasty interview gave the anxious native the good tidings that Lopez was ahead on the same quest as himself.
Hurrying forward, most of the time on a run, he overtook his father’s faithful servant just before darkness arrived, and together, unsparingly, they urged onward their tired men.
Gregorio’s keen eyes were ever on the trail; in his heart was a desperate resolve. The thought of escape of Espinosa maddened him beyond endurance. The newly made grave in the family burying grounds spurred him on to almost superhuman exertions. Lopez, hardened as he was to toil in the fields, kept pace with his untiring young master, but many of the pursuing natives were left far behind.
“We are nearly to Banate,” Lopez said intensely as they saw the high jungle slowly merge into nipa swamp. The cocoanut palms were becoming more and more infrequent and the mud of the trail clung to their tired feet.
So silently had they approached the little settlement at the foot of the hills rising fromthe delta of the river that the sudden barking of a dog caused them to stop in consternation.
With eyes open wide with anxiety and apprehension, Gregorio and Lopez pressed onward through the narrow street. They saw the natives were not as yet awake, the houses were closed and no human being was visible. On the ocean beach they saw many native boats hauled high above the tide. Anxiously they visited each in turn, but all were abandoned.
The sandy soil gave them no news of their quarry. Many footmarks were evident, but the tracks were so crossed and recrossed that even Gregorio gave up all hope of learning from them the direction taken by Espinosa and his men.
Gregorio stood in deepest dejection at the edge of the beach; his eyes sorrowfully scanned the dark waters. Had Espinosa turned off into the jungle, allowing him to go by, chuckling in his sleeve at the cleverness of his ruse? or had he embarked, and was he now sailing rapidly away toward freedom and wealth? Many of the straggling natives had now gathered about their chief and waited forhis orders. They had ruthlessly entered the huts of the sleeping villagers and had dragged several of them trembling before their leaders.
“But a half hour ago a large proa was launched from down the beach,” a native villager spoke up. “It had been waiting, and we were commanded to keep indoors on penalty of being shot. Through my bamboo shutter I saw it start.”
Gregorio waited for no further words. Hastily turning to Lopez and Garcia he cried eagerly:
“Light three fires on the top of the hill, the signal to the gunboat.” Then without spoken orders a half score of men helped the anxious Gregorio launch one of the small fishing boats lying high on the beach. As Lopez and his men hurried away, the native boat, with Gregorio at the helm, hoisted its bamboo sail to catch the light morning breeze and disappeared into the night.