"Corporal, I went south in the island to pick up some laborers from the Manobo tribe. I got forty together and was on my way through this country, not knowing that the Moros were out. So we were caught, this afternoon, and taken before the Datto Hakkut. He ordered us into his ranks to fight. We demurred, and four of my fellows were cut down before my eyes. Then we accepted arms. But to-night we tried to creep through the datto's lines and get here. All but the six men with me were caught, and their fate must have been awful." Senor Davo shuddered, then went on: "I come to beseech you that you allow my poor fellows to come inside your lines. You know me, Corporal, and know that we're all right." "Yes, bring your men inside our line," decided Corporal Duxbridge. "I'll vouch for you, Senor Davo, to our commanding officer." Protesting his undying gratitude, Davo went below for his men, and brought them inside the lines, a sorry looking lot of fellows who at once threw themselves down as if to sleep. "You'll notify Sergeant Overton, of course?" suggested the soldier who had first halted Davo. "You mind your business, Strong," Corporal Duxbridge rebuked him. "I'll notify the sergeant in good time." But Hal, as it happened, was nearer than had been imagined. Unobserved he had listened to the whole conversation. Now, Overton hastened silently away, awaking Lieutenant Holmes and ten soldiers. Without undue haste these marched down on Duxbridge's station. "Halt! Who goes there?" "The officer of the day and the sergeant of the guard," came the response, in Lieutenant Holmes's crisp tones. "Advance, sir." The seven new arrivals lay on the ground, apparently sound asleep. Davo had his hat over his face, and was snoring lightly. "Who are these new men in camp, Corporal?" demanded Holmes sharply. "Fugitives from the datto's lines, sir. I was about to notify the sergeant of the guard, sir." "Don't let them get away," spoke Hal quickly to the men, "and remember that they're armed with steel! This fellow, who calls himself Davo is Vicente Tomba, a Tagalo who is right-hand man to the datto," added the sergeant, bending and snatching the hat from the Tagalo's face. It was truly Tomba, who, with a snarl, leaped to his feet ere Hal Overton could grab him. "Shoot him!" ordered Lieutenant Holmes, as Tomba went over the trench and down the slope at sprinting speed. Three or four rifles spoke, but Tomba escaped in the darkness. Not so, however, with the men Tomba had brought with him. Not one of them escaped. All were stretched on the ground senseless, having been clubbed with the butts of the soldiers' rifles. Then, a quick search under the shirt of each of the rascals, revealed a creese with blade ground to a razor edge. "You see, Corporal," ripped out Sergeant Hal, "these scoundrels were going to watch their chance to knife you all in the dark. Then the Moros would have rushed in at this point, and----"