It is not as bad, however, to be a coffee-cooler as a cold-foot. A "cold-foot" is a soldier paralyzed with terror; he is worse than useless anywhere in the Army. The cold-foot is ironically asked why he didn't bring his woolen socks along. If a cold-foot gets into deadly action it is said that the cold chills chase each other down his spine and all settle in his feet, so that he is frozen in his tracks. However, a soldier who betrays cowardice in the face of the enemy may be shot for his cowardice, for which reason "cold feet" sometimes become cold for all time to come.

Soldiers there have been who have shown "cold feet" in their first battle or two, and yet have been among the best of soldiers later on.

But the cold-foot is a rarity, anyway, among the regulars.

"h.e.l.lo," broke in Kelly, peering out through the rain, "there goes some good fellow to the rainmakers."

Many of the other soldiers looked. Two hospital-corps men were carrying a stretcher in the direction of the post hospital. None could make out, however, who was on the stretcher, as, owing to the downpour of rain, the unfortunate one was covered with three or four rubber ponchos.

"I hope none of our good fellows is badly hurt," broke in Sergeant Noll Terry.

"Rheumatism, most likely," grunted Corporal Hyman. "Did you ever see a country where the rain fell as steadily when it got started?"

"Well, this is the rainy season, isn't it?" inquired Noll.

"Yes."

"But half of the year we have a dry season, don't we?"

"We do," admitted Hyman. "Yet, of the two, you'll prefer the wet season a whole lot. In the dry season the dust is blowing in your face day and night."

An orderly stepped briskly out on the veranda.

"Sergeant Overton is directed to report immediately to Lieutenant Prescott at the latter's quarters."

"I'll be there before the words are out of your mouth, Driggs," laughed Hal, rising and starting.

"Hold on, Sarge," called Private Kelly. "Look at the sheets of dew coming down, and you haven't your poncho. Here, put mine on."

"Thank you; I will," Hal a.s.sented, halting.

The poncho is a thin rubber, blanket-like affair. In the field the men usually spread the poncho on the ground, under their blankets. But in the middle of the poncho is a hole through which the head may be thrust, the poncho then falling over the trunk of the body like a rain coat.

Getting this on and replacing his campaign hat, Hal started briskly toward officers' quarters.

Lieutenant Prescott was in his room when Hal knocked, and promptly called, "Come in."

Hal entered, saluting his lieutenant, who was writing at a table. He looked up long enough to receive and return Hal's soldierly salute.

"With you in a moment, Sergeant," stated Lieutenant Prescott, who then turned back to his writing.

"Very good, sir."

Hal did not stir, but merely changed from his position of attention to one of greater ease.

Lieutenant Prescott is no stranger to our readers. He was second lieutenant of Captain Cortland's B Company of the Thirty-fourth. Readers of our "HIGH SCHOOL BOYS SERIES" recall d.i.c.k Prescott as a schoolboy athlete, and readers of the "WEST POINT SERIES" have followed the same d.i.c.k Prescott through his four years of cadetship at the United States Military Academy.

After finishing a page and signing it, Lieutenant Prescott wiped his pen, laid it down and wheeled about in his chair.

"You heard about Sergeant Gray?" asked the young West Pointer.

"Nothing in especial, sir."

"He was badly hurt ten minutes ago in stopping the runaway horses of Colonel Thorpe, of the Thirty-seventh Infantry. Colonel Thorpe was visiting our colonel, and only the two little Thorpe youngsters were in the carriage when the horses bolted, pitching the native driver from the seat."

"Badly hurt, sir?" cried Hal Overton in a tone of genuine distress.

"That will be bad news in the company, sir. I don't think any of them know it yet, or I would have heard it before. Sergeant Gray is a man we swear by, sir, in the squad rooms."

"Sergeant Gray is a splendid soldier," observed Lieutenant Prescott warmly. "It is not believed that he will have to be retired, but he may have to put in two or three months on sick report before he can come back to duty. But that is not what I sent for you to tell you, Sergeant Overton. As Sergeant Hupner was left behind on detailed duty in the United States, the accident to Gray now leaves you the ranking sergeant in the company. Until further orders you will take over the duties of acting first sergeant, by Captain Cortland's direction."

"Very good, sir."

"This is Tuesday, Sergeant. Thursday, at eleven in the morning, the Thirty-fourth is due before the office of the captain of the port, to take boats for the transport 'Warren.' This regiment sails for Iloilo and other ports."

"May I repeat that to the men, sir?"

"It is going to be necessary, for you will have to see to it that all the personal and company baggage is ready for the teamsters at four to-morrow afternoon."

"Very good, sir."

"And, Sergeant, this is not official, but I believe it to be reliable; some of the Moro _dattos_ (chieftains) are said to be preparing to stir up trouble in some of the southern islands. In that case the Thirty-fourth will bear the brunt of it all."

"I am really very glad to hear that, sir," cried Sergeant Hal eagerly.

"So am I, Sergeant," admitted the lieutenant, who, like most of the younger officers, hungered for active service against an enemy. "You understand your instructions, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good; that is all, Sergeant."

Hal Overton saluted his officer with even more snap than usual, then hastened back to barracks.

Supper soon followed, and before the meal was over the rain had stopped.

After supper several of B Company's men went out into the near-by street to stroll in the somewhat cooler air of the tropical evening.

A little later Hal and Noll followed. Presently, in the shadow under a densely foliaged yllang-yllang tree, they came upon two figures standing there, just in time to hear Corporal Hyman's voice saying heartily:

"That sounds like just as good a time as you make it out to be. And it won't take us over three hours? This is a hard night to get off, as the packing-up order has been given. I'll see our first sergeant, however, and find out whether there's any chance of my getting leave for the evening. If he says so, I can put it by the captain all right. Wait here, and----"

"I guess it won't be necessary, Corporal Hyman," broke in Hal's voice, sounding rather cool, for Hal had recognized Hyman's companion--none other than Vicente Tomba.

"h.e.l.lo! There you are, Sarge," cried Hyman, while the little Filipino dandy started, peered at the young sergeants and then scowled.

"I'll try to fix it for you to get a pa.s.s to-night, Corporal," Hal went on, "if you really want one. But I don't exactly believe that you do.

This native gentleman tried to b.u.t.t in with us this afternoon, and at first we took it in good part. But he was too eager. Then, a little later in the afternoon, we heard him denouncing us to a white man because we weren't eager enough. Corporal, unless you know a lot about this man, I don't believe you want anything to do with him."

Tomba's face was blazing hotly, while his eyes gleamed angrily at Sergeant Overton's words.

"If that's the kind of fellow he is, then I don't want a pa.s.s to-night,"