“Discovered again,” muttered Luke, and felt for his pistol. “Soaked!” he muttered, in disgust.
The cry of the rebel on guard had given the alarm to several others, and in a twinkling Larry and the old Yankee tar found themselves confronted by an even more determined crowd than that encountered on the road. With the water behind them, escape was out of the question, for a jump back into the river would have courted a fire which must have resulted in death.
“Americanos!” muttered one of the rebels, drawing 48 closer. “And sailors, not soldiers,” he added, in his native tongue. “Where did you come from?”
Larry and Luke shook their heads. “Talk United States and we’ll speak to you,” said the old sailor.
“You gif up?” demanded an under officer, as he pushed his way forward, with his pistol covering Larry’s heart.
“Ain’t nuthin’ else to do, I reckon,” replied Luke, before Larry could answer. He was afraid the boy might be rash and try running away again.
“Throw down de pistoles, den,” muttered the Tagal, with an ugly frown.
Down went the weapons on the ground, and then two of the rebels advanced to search them. They found nothing of special value excepting the pair’s jack-knives, and these were confiscated and turned over to the officer in command.
The prisoners were then told to march up the river shore to a road leading into Santa Cruz. With their hands bound tightly behind them, they were placed in charge of a detail of four Filipinos, who were instructed to take them without delay before the general in charge of the city’s defences.
“They may hold information of importance,” 49 said the under officer. “Do not delay a minute;” and off went the crowd, the soldiers prodding the prisoners with their bayonets whenever Larry and Luke did not walk fast enough to suit them.