As if to prove that he was still conscious, Edwards's lips tried to frame the words:

"Thank heav----"

A sigh, and Edwards's head sank forward on his chest.

"He's gone, sir; there's no pulse," said the hospital steward.

Edwards's brave mission was ended. He had carried the word of danger to Fort Franklin, but he could not live to see the relief or vengeance detail set out.

As soon as it was certain that the bookkeeper had really ceased to breathe, Captain Cortland had the hospital steward summon men, who carried the remains away.

From the portion of the barracks allotted to B Company there came hardly a sound of unusual activity. Yet men were preparing for the "hike," as the long, swift march is called, in record time.

"All ready in this room?" called Sergeant Hal at last.

A chorus of low-toned replies answered him.

"Tumble out, then, lively!"

An instant later the men hastened from other squad rooms. There was no flourish of bugles this time. At a quietly spoken word the sixty men fell in. Non-commissioned officers made a hasty inspection, while Captain Cortland and Lieutenant Prescott glanced up and down the line with keen eyes.

"March your detachment, Lieutenant," directed Captain Cortland, a minute later.

"Twos right, route step, quick time--_march_!" called Lieutenant Prescott.

As one man they swung, and their feet were in motion. At the head of the line marched acting First Sergeant Overton, setting a stiff pace.

For an instant Prescott stood still, eying his men as they swept by.

Then he ran to the head of the line, falling in beside the young sergeant.

They were off on the Flag's business!

CHAPTER X

THE INSULT TO THE FLAG

It was a deserted road over which the detachment marched.

When there is fighting in Mindanao, and troops are scurrying along the roads, those inhabitants who are non-combatants keep within their doors--at all events, they remain out of sight. It is as though every native feared to be shot as a possible rebel.

But Uncle Sam's troops have no quarrel with men and women following peaceful occupations. If these brown natives understood our people better they would not scurry to cover when the khaki-clad men are pa.s.sing on fighting bent.

For three miles, or until Bantoc was left well behind, the quick time continued. Then the young lieutenant decided that it would be necessary to slacken the pace for a while. Soldiers must not only reach their destination as early as possible; they must also be fit for fighting on arrival.

It was not difficult to find the way. An almost straight road led out to the Seaforth plantation. Lieutenant Prescott had a map of the country for use in case he found it necessary.

Twice on the way the men halted, for five minutes each time.

Then, about eight miles out, they came upon outlying scenes of plantation life. There were broad fields, rich with crops, but to-day no laborers were to be seen at work.

Then the main buildings of the Draney plantation were sighted.

About the buildings, too, all was unwontedly quiet. In fact, the main house was closed and had the air of being in a state of siege.

"Humph!" muttered the young lieutenant to the boyish sergeant. "If all we hear about Draney is true, or even the half of it, he has no need to fear the Moros."

Just as the detachment was pa.s.sing opposite the main building the front door opened, and Draney, bearing a rifle in the hollow of his left arm, hastened out, holding up his right hand.

"Detachment halt!" commanded Prescott in a wearied tone. Then the young commanding officer stepped rapidly toward the planter.

"Well, Mr. Draney, what is it?" Prescott inquired.

"I'm thankful you've come, Prescott."

"Mr. Prescott, if you please," interposed the officer coldly.

"I'm mighty glad you've come. Off yonder we've been hearing firing at intervals ever since daylight."

"How recently have you heard it?" queried Prescott.

"Within ten minutes."

"Thank heaven, then!" muttered the lieutenant. "The Seaforth people are holding out."

"Is it at Seaforth's?" demanded Draney, with a.s.sumed eagerness.

"So I imagine. But I must hurry on my way. Take care of yourself, Mr.

Draney."

Perhaps that last bit of advice was delivered in a tone of some sarcasm.

Draney appeared to feel very uneasy.

"Prescott--Mr. Prescott--aren't you going to leave some of your men here to protect this place?"

"I don't believe it will be necessary," replied the lieutenant, and again, no doubt, there was some hidden irony in his words.

"But the Moros may attack us here at any moment," urged Draney pleadingly.

"I hope they won't attack you, Mr. Draney. But, in any event, I have no orders to leave any of my men here."

"Yet, surely, as an officer commanding troops in the field, you have some discretion in the matter."

"I fear it would be an abuse of my discretion to weaken my detachment by leaving men here."