“How soon will you be back?” asked he.
“O, I can’t tell,” responded Marie. “Mother is getting so nervous that we thought best to go away for awhile.”
“Say, Marie,” said the colonel, “do you know who the Filipino officer is in command of all those thousands of troops that are now assembling in the ravines between the hills along the far side of the river valley, yonder?”
“No, I do not,” she declared with an emphatic swing of her head.
But she was lying. It was Colonel Miguel, her own uncle. She knew about it. He had secretly informed her that he was preparing to attack the city and burn it and that he was going to exterminate the American army of occupation and all foreign residents that fell into the hands of his mighty army. He told her that he had chosen the east side of the city as his main point of attack, so that Dewey could not reach his troops with the shells from his gun boats in case he tried to assist the American army, without elevating his guns and shooting completely over the city—a thing wholly impractical within itself, as Dewey could not determine whether his shells would be falling among the Filipino or the American troops. It was he who advised her to take her mother and flee to the hills for refuge.
Colonel Stotsenberg then asked Marie if she knew anything about the proposed attack on the city by her people. This, she denied also. The colonel’s face flushed. Pulling back the flap of his tent, he said emphatically: “Do you see that gun, Marie? Tell those fellows over there when you pass their lines that I said they could have trouble whenever they want it.”
Marie drove on.
Inside the colonel’s tent stood a large gun from the Utah battery, mounted, loaded, ready for action; its threatening nose was pointed directly at the line of little brown men assembled across the valley. The Filipinos were smarting for trouble. They wanted it badly. Wherever and whenever possible they improved every opportunity to bring it about. The trouble came. Colonel Stotsenberg that night used the cannon he had pointed out to Marie. A long pile of mangled forms lying at the base of the river hills on the opposite of the valley next morning told the results.