Ben tried to cry out, but not a sound could he make. His eyes bulged from their sockets, and he felt his breath leaving him. A second Igorrote leaped forward to hit him on the head with a war club, such as some of the Igorrote still insisted upon carrying. Of the use of rifles this tribe of the Filipinos knew little or nothing.
“Back, ye nager!” came in Dan Casey’s voice, and there followed a sickening thud, and down went the enemy with the club, his head split open by a blow from the Irish volunteer’s gun-stock. Casey then aimed a second blow at the rebel who had hold of Ben, but not wishing to receive such a dose as had been meted out to his companion, the other Igorrote sprang up, butted Casey in the stomach with his head, thus landing the Irishman on his back, and then ran for his life toward the nearest shelter of brush.
“Oh, be gracious! To look at that now!” spluttered the Irishman as he arose. “But I got 201 wan av thim, anyhow, captain,” he added, with a jerk of his thumb toward the Igorrote, who lay with a broken head.
“Yes, Casey; and you saved me, too,” returned Ben, earnestly. “You are worth two ordinary men;” and then captain and private drifted apart, as the tide of battle rolled forward.
The top of the hill was gained, but for once the insurgents did not know when they were whipped, and held to their guns until more than half of their number were either killed or wounded. The contest raged to the right and the left of the battery, and this was fortunate, for seeing they could not hold the pieces, some of the rebels overcharged one of the guns and set it off, blowing it into a thousand pieces. Then the main body retreated into the jungle, carrying a few of their wounded with them.
By this time it was raining again, and the downpour on the top of the hill was so great that little could be seen of the condition of affairs at a distance. Sending word that the hill was taken and one old-fashioned Spanish field-piece captured, Major Morris rallied his battalion around him and stood on the defensive. But the rebels 202 had had enough of fighting for the present, and once again took up the retreat in the direction of San Isidro.
“I reckon that was hot enough for anybody,” said the major, as he stalked up to Ben and the other captains under him. “I wonder if anybody was killed by the explosion of that old cannon?”
“Nobody was killed, but several were wounded,” answered one of the captains. “The rebel who charged her up and then fired her had lots of nerve,” he added.
Word soon came back from General Lawton that the battalion should hold the hill until further orders. The situation was not a pleasant one, but orders must be obeyed, and the various companies proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as possible, which was not saying much, since the top of the hill afforded little or no shelter. One company was detailed to do picket duty, but a little scouting soon proved that the rebels were a mile or more distant.
When the main body of the troops under General Lawton marched into Maasin, they found the pretty little town all but deserted. In a few of the huts the inhabitants remained, having hung 203 out dirty white rags to show that they were amigos. Here were also numerous “Chinos” or Chinese, some of mixed blood, and all ready to do anything for the American soldiers, provided they were paid for it. Natives and “Chinos” went about bared to the waist, casting fearful eyes at those who had so suddenly disturbed the peace of their homesteads, for the inhabitants of Maasin were peaceably inclined, and took but little interest in the war Aguinaldo and his followers had instituted.