Lieutenant Parsons was a long, lank fellow, who never exerted himself any more than was absolutely necessary, so he simply unwound one of his arms, which was twisted around one of the posts of the bed, and blindly felt above till he found the article desired. Handing them to Sever, he indifferently asked: "What's going on over there?" Without replying, Sever took the glasses and looked intently at the "gugu" trenches. Having satisfied his curiosity, he returned to his work of cleaning his "six-shooter"; then answered the almost forgotten question: "Oh, nothing, I guess; only I thought I saw a 'nigger' running. Its such an unusual sight to see one of those fellows 'get a move on,' especially when the sun is beating down like it is now, unless something is after him--looks like there might be something up." Parsons reached over for the glasses, got up, and walked to the door; but before he raised them to his eyes, he casually glanced to the right and stopped, saying: "Hello! here comes the 'old man's' orderly, 'lickety split.'" He had scarcely finished his favorite expression, "lickety split," when the orderly had ridden up, dispensed with the courtesy of dismounting, but hurriedly began: "The Commanding Officer directs that officers get their companies out at once, and proceed to the north outpost line. Messenger just in with information that the Filipinos are swarming over our outposts there." He had no sooner delivered his message when the sounds of a few stray shots in the direction named were heard. Sever, Parsons, and the other officers, experienced campaigners that they were, swiftly buckled on their revolvers, and in an incredibly short time were on the company parade-grounds shouting to their men--the few, who had not already turned out. Most of them had heard the message as it was given the officers, and had hastened to their huts, not waiting for instructions, warned their comrades of the impending fight, and again appeared with rifle and belt. "Forward, double time; march," and Captain Sever was off with his company--superb fighting machine--for the line of battle. The fire was now rapidly increasing. What at first sounded like a few heavy drops of rain on a tin roof was now an incessant shower. On went the gallant company. Stray shots crashed through the thickets to the right and left of them; struck the earth in front and near them, throwing up great quantities of _debris_; others, singing their death-song, passed uncomfortably close to their ears. The outposts were now in sight. Some of them had been killed; others, wounded, were bravely striving to repress groans of pain. It was a desperate fight--few against many. The natives were pouring down on the little handful of men like a great avalanche. The sure and deadly aim of the Americans alone served to impede the over-powering onslaught.