Or there was the possibility of receiving a volley at close range; for it was known that at night the Tagalos invariably approached nearer our lines. Since they had so mysteriously disappeared during the day, there was a strong probability that they would take up a new position that night. Where, no one knew.
Lonely huts, amid vines and bamboo, that had been deserted when the place fell into our hands, were frequently passed. A half-starved dog, that had refused to follow its master from home, set up a mournful howl that tended to chill the marrow in the bones. The very silence was appalling. The breaking of a twig was as the discharge of a rifle. The lightest footfall resounded in the distance. To the party it seemed their shoes were of iron and the earth a ringing plate of steel.
After a hard struggle with Nature’s obstacles, and many halts to locate and determine the cause of suspicious noises, the little band finally emerged from the dense undergrowth into an open field. Almost simultaneously with the entrance into this open space there was a slight break in the clouds, and through the crevice the moon and stars gave sparingly of their light.
The men were now deployed into line of skirmishers, and moved slowly and cautiously forward. There was just sufficient light to cause the imagination to see an enemy behind every rice-dyke or bunch of grass.
The advance was made to within 150 paces of the river, when a halt was made. A vague outline of the village and trenches could be seen. Someone saw the dim figure of a rebel sentry. All eyes were turned on the spot, but he remained as fixed as the stars.
Van Osdol decided to go alone to investigate the trenches and village, for in doing this there would be less danger of detection.
The Sergeant remained behind to take command of the detachment. The intrepid officer, with revolver in hand, went on his way toward the river. His advance was slow—only a few feet at a time, then he would stop, lower his head to the ground, and listen intently.
Now the trenches loomed up before him not more than fifty yards away. He strained his eyes in effort to see some signs of a living occupant, but nothing save the fanning of the giant leaves of the banana, and the waving of the tall grass under the gentle breeze of the south wind, was seen to move. There was reigning the stillness of death—that awful omen of lurking danger. A few feet further he wormed his way, now crawling on all fours. Just in front of him was a foot-bridge across the river, made of a single stringer of poles and a hand-rail with which to balance the body.
Over this bridge he began to cross. Not more than two short steps were taken when he heard a low, whistling sound. He halted instantly, squatted on his haunches beneath the hand-rail, and listened, as fixed as a statue. The whistling was repeated; this time nearer, but the direction indefinite.
Was it the signal of an alarmed sentry, or was it one of the many nocturnal noises which the Island of Luzon produces?