Hal glanced at his watch, then back at barracks, where hardly a soldier showed himself, for all had caught the spirit of indolence in this hot, moist climate of Mindanao.
"Well, I must be going, Noll. Don't work your fatigue party too hard until the men get used to this heat."
"Small danger of my working 'em too hard," laughed Noll. "It's only as a sort of special favor that the fellows will work at all."
Hal, with a nod to his chum, stepped out on to the hard, level, white road that led from Fort Franklin to Bantoc.
It was a pretty road, shaded at points by beautiful palms; yet the shade was not sufficient to protect the young soldier all the way into town. Ere he had gone far he found it necessary to carry his damp handkerchief in one hand, prepared to mop his steaming face.
"Mindanao is certainly some hot," he muttered. "It keeps a fellow steaming all the time."
Yet there was plenty to divert one's thoughts from himself, for along this road lay some of the prettiest small farms to be found on northern Mindanao. Instead of farms they really looked more like well-kept gardens.
"It's the finest spot in the world to be lazy in," thought the young sergeant, as he glanced here and there over the charming scene. "If I settled down here for life I'd want money enough to pay other fellows to do all the work for me."
Though Hal did not know it, from the window of one room in a house that he passed a pair of unusually bright, keen eyes glared out at him.
"That is he, the sergente, Overton," growled Vicente Tomba to himself. "Since we have Señor Draney's orders that the sergente is to leave this life as soon as possible, why not to-day? He is going to Bantoc, where it will be easy to snare him. And his friend Terry is not with him. That pair, back to back, might put up a hard fight—but one alone should be easy for our bravos. Then, another day, we can plan to get the Sergente Terry."