A twig snapped close by, sending the blood coursing through his veins while his hand shook from the sudden start. Terrified he cast his startled eyes into the jungle behind him. The dim shadow of a man stood scarcely a hundred yards away, silently watching him. In the dim light the figure seemed of heroic size. He retreated toward it and back to his sleeping companions, the rifle clasped in his hand. Then suddenly the silence was broken by a volley of rifle-shots and the hiss of bullets sounded everywhere about him. Stunned, unable to explain the meaning of this, he dropped to the ground and lay silent, his face in the straw of his bed. The next second a line of shouting, excited khaki-clad men streamed past, firing their rifles as they charged upon their hidden native foes. CHAPTER V CAPTAIN BLYNN MARCHES As night fell, Captain Blynn led his battalion of regulars from their barracks, across the bridge and on to the trail leading to the northward of Palilo. The American officer rode in the lead, the Filipino Presidente at his side. The soldiers behind him, eight full companies, each under its own officer, swung along with the long, untiring step of the American soldier. They each knew that before the night was over and the sun had lifted its fiery head above the misty mountains to the eastward twenty miles of rough trail must be covered, and then they had been promised to be brought face to face with an enemy whose shadows they had chased during these many long, tiresome months. Espinosa, as he rode in silence by the side of the big American, chuckled inwardly at the fruitlessness of this expedition. “These childlike American dogs,” he thought, “they will arrive in time to see the smouldering fires where our men have cooked their morning rice, while they will be high in the hills, looking down on them derisively, and possibly will fire a few shots at long range to show their contempt.” Captain Blynn’s restless gaze contemplated his companion from time to time as the native signaled the right trail. They were now in a narrow defile between two hills that rose precipitously to a height of over a thousand feet. Captain Blynn, as he contemplated his surroundings with a soldier’s eyes, drew his revolver from its holster and laid it gently across the pommel of his saddle. “A nice place for an ambush,” he said in a low, insinuating voice. “I suppose, señor, you are prepared to stand before your Maker.” The native shuddered. He saw only too clearly the accusation and threat in this terrible American’s words. If there was to be an ambush, he knew nothing of it, but if a single hostile shot was fired, he would pay the penalty with his life. The Filipino forced an uneasy laugh. “As far as I know, señor capitan, there are no insurgents this side of Banate.” “For your sake, I hope you are right,” the American replied. “As you see, I am taking no chances. You are our guide; if you get us into trouble, you pay, that’s all.”