"Don't get into groups, you water carriers, either," Lieutenant Prescott called after the men as they started down the slope with buckets. "Keep apart. If you don't, some of the Moros in the distance will be taking pot-shots and getting some of you."
The day wore on, and it looked as though the Moros were still running.
"I'd hate to have to take ten men and fight all of the enemy who are within two thousand yards of here," declared Captain Freeman in the hearing of a large part of his command. "The datto has us all in a bunch and he'll hang to us until he has wiped us out."
"I don't believe he can do it, sir," retorted Lieutenant Greg Holmes.
"No; but the brown rascal thinks he can, which amounts to the same thing as far as he is concerned. Mr. Holmes, you may safely take my word for it that the datto has made up his own mind not to allow one of us ever to get back in safety to Bantoc.
Late in the afternoon the five soldiers who had been slain were placed in a row at the top of the hill.
"Too bad we haven't a Flag to drape the poor fellows with," said Captain Freeman sorrowfully.
"We have a Flag with us, sir," spoke up Hal, saluting.
"Where is it, Sergeant?"
"In a small parcel in one of the ammunition wagons, sir."