Gilbert found the hostelry without much difficulty, and on inquiry at the desk learned that Nuggy Polk had left the place that morning.
“He was not sure if he would be back,” said the clerk. “He wanted to visit the soldiers’ encampment up at the water-works. Perhaps you will find him there.”
The water-works are several miles to the eastward of Manila, at a spot where a few months before some severe fighting had taken place between the Americans and the insurgents. Gilbert decided to journey thither, and hired a pony for that purpose.
The young lieutenant had been over this ground before,—indeed, some of his first fighting in the Philippines had been done in that neighborhood; and he found his way, without difficulty, along a highway lined with palms and other tropical trees.
As he moved along, he kept his eyes open for anybody who might bear a resemblance to the young man he desired to interview. It was growing dark rapidly; yet the night promised to be clear, and he could still see without much difficulty.
The camping grounds of the soldiers at the water-works were almost gained, when, on reaching a turn of the road, the young lieutenant beheld coming toward him a high native fancy cart, drawn by two stout ponies. On the seat of the cart sat two young men; and, from the description which had been given to him, he recognized the driver of the turnout as Nuggy Polk.
As soon as he made his discovery that the man he was seeking was before him, Gilbert also learned something else, which was that both young men had been drinking far more than was good for them, and, if they were not intoxicated, they were pretty close to it. The driver was swaying from side to side, jerking the reins in a way to completely bewilder his steeds; and his companion was expostulating, and trying to get the lines in his own possession.
“I tell you, Nuggy, you ain’t in no condition to drive,” the second young man was saying. “Give me the lines, an’ I’ll show you how to make ’em trot.”
“Give you nothing!” retorted Nuggy Polk, savagely. “I can drive as well as anybody, Jerry Nickerson; and I want you to know it.”
“You’re steerin’ ’em into the rocks,” went on Jerry Nickerson. “You’ll smash us up in another minit!” And he clutched Polk’s arm to keep himself from rolling off the high seat to the ground.