"Prepare to die," said Gilmore to his companions; "they are going to shoot us." Calling the Filipino lieutenant to his side Gilmore asked him why he did not shoot them on the opposite side of the mountains, and not have made them make all of that hard climb for nothing. The native officer said in reply: "My orders were to shoot all of you when I got you up in the mountains, where, in all probability, your bodies would be destroyed by wild animals and no trace of them ever be found by your countrymen; but a few nights ago when you showed me that crucifix tattooed on your chest while you were a midshipman in America, I decided not to carry out my order, but to let you all go free. I may be punished for disobedience of orders; but we are both bound together by the great Catholic church, and my conscience forbids that I should kill you." Gilmore replied: "You might as well shoot us as to set us free away up here in the mountains in our weakened condition with nothing to defend ourselves with against the savages whose territory we will have to cross in order to get to the sea. Can't you spare us at least two rifles and some ammunition? If you will do this, I will give you a letter which, should you fall into the hands of the Americans, will make you safe and bring you ample reward." The Filipino looked meditatingly at the ground for several moments, then he calmly said, "I shall not dare to do it. An American relief party, seeking your liberation, is close on our heels. They will protect and care for you. Goodby!" Gilmore did not believe him. Under cover of the night the Filipinos disappeared. In the morning, after nine long, tedious months of captivity resulting from Marie Sampalit's depredations,--sick, nearly starved, practically nude, with nothing but two battle axes and a bolo for both weapons of defense and for tools--the Americans at last found themselves free men in the wilds of northern Luzon, with positive death left behind, and with possible life and all of its happy associations still before them. Their first day of liberty was spent in preparing bamboo rafts on which to float down the tortuous, winding river to the sea. The next night they all slept well; and on the following morning, just after they had gotten up and begun to saunter around, everybody present was suddenly shocked by the shrill yell of a strong American voice. They all looked up, and while their hearts for a moment seemingly stopped beating and fairly rose in their throats, the liberated prisoners beheld the blue shirts and khaki trousers of Colonel Hare's rescue party that for several weeks had been on their trail. What rejoicing! The bony, ill-clad prisoners fell on the strong bosoms of their rescuers and wept.