Yet over all the din rose the yells of the surprised Moros in the trench. It had caught them hard, for most of the soldiers were doing good shooting.
Heedless, now, of the fire from the planter's house, the Moros in the trench rose to flee. Some of them dropped where they stood. Others ran away as fast as their brown legs could carry them, some brandishing their rifles with defiance, a few others throwing down their firearms as they started to bolt.
About a dozen of the rascals tried to return the fire of the soldiers, but fired too high. None of the khaki-clad men were hit.
"Cease firing!" shouted Lieutenant Prescott, but he addressed his order to the bugler who stood beside him. No voice could carry over such a din of firing.
Ta-rar-ta-ra-ta! rang the bugle. As the men obeyed the command to cease firing one would again have been reminded of exploding packs of fire crackers, for the fire died down sputteringly, with here and there another report or two from soldiers who felt that they had a fine bead drawn and ached to "get" another enemy or two.
Fully twenty-five of the Moros had fallen, either in the trench at the first crash of fire, or else while running to cover.
These, however, were not the only enemies at hand, for, from a grove off to the left of the planter's house a heavy fire now crashed out, and bullets began to clip twigs from the trees among which the soldiers lay.
Other bullets whizzed by over the heads of Uncle Sam's men as they lay there. There was a peculiarly spiteful sound to the passage of these bullets. "Whew-ew-ew!" they sang, for most of the Moros were using the .43 Remington, with the brass-jacketed, heavy bullet, this being a favorite arm in the islands among the natives. There are always adventurers at Hong Kong who, for a price, will land any number of Remingtons and any amount of ammunition at lonely spots along the coast of the islands.
Shading his eyes with his left hand Lieutenant Prescott tried to locate this other firing party of Moros. Smokeless powder gives no clue to the hiding places of an enemy, and even if there be any kind of echo it is a confusing guide.
But at last Prescott was sure he had located the second Moro fighting party and he pointed out the place to his men.