A burst came from a dozen distant rifles at once. Bullets tore through the air around Lieutenant Prescott as he stood, still with his field glass to his eyes. Looking around, however, he saw Hal standing, and commanded severely: "If you're through with your work, Sergeant Overton, lie down. Ready, men, for just one volley. Load; aim--at the front timber line of that grove. Fire!" Hardly had the crashing volley ripped out when again the young officer's voice was heard: "Rise, forward, charge!" This time the line moved with a yell, the two men who carried Danes yelling as loudly as the rest. "Halt! Lie down!" They were within two hundred yards of the Seaforth house now. The front door of that building had been thrown open, though no one appeared as yet in the doorway. It began to look as though the Moros had withdrawn, or else were waiting for something, for no shots came from the enemy. Again, at command, the detachment rose and rushed forward, this time without cheering. "Lie down!" Uncle Sam's men dropped in their tracks, close to the house. Now, Seaforth, the planter, appeared in the doorway. "Captain, I hope I needn't tell you that you and your men are welcome," came Seaforth's greeting. He was hardly a middle-aged man, but three years of planter's life in Mindanao had brought deep gray streaks into his hair. "I've a wounded man to bring inside," announced young Prescott. "Bring him right in, sir; we'll make him as comfortable as we can." Private Danes fainted while being lifted and carried into the house. He was soon after revived, however. The two men who had brought him in now used a first-aid package in dressing the wound, after they had washed it. In the meantime Lieutenant Prescott discovered that none of the whites in the house had been hit, though one of the loyal Moro defenders of the house had been killed and two others wounded. Then the lieutenant told of Edwards's death. A young woman in the room promptly fainted. "That's Miss Daly, the school teacher," explained Mr. Seaforth. "She and Edwards were engaged to be married." Outside more shots sounded. Lieutenant Prescott ran to the door. Sergeant Hal, however, had detailed twenty of his men to answer the fire, whenever they saw anything to shoot at, while the others had been ordered to get to work with their intrenching tools. This tool, in appearance, is about half way between a bayonet and a trowel. With it a soldier can lie on the ground, digging and throwing up dirt before him, while he opens a shallow trench in which to lie and conceal himself from the enemy's fire. "Don't waste any ammunition, Sergeant. Have your men shoot to hit," directed the officer. "I'm going back into the house, but send for me if you see any suspicious move on the part of the Moros." "Yes, sir," and Sergeant Overton turned his face towards the enemy. Though he made his men remain prostrate on the ground, Hal Overton stood up. He was using the lieutenant's field glass.