The skirmish was over, though, almost as soon as it had begun, and with little harm to any of the Americans except to such of the scouts as had been cut off in advance. The warning had come in time—had come before the advancing column had marched between the forces hidden on both sides of the ravine. The Tagalogs could not face the fire with which the Americans met them. They fled up the ravine, and up both sides of the gorge, into the shelter of the forest, and were gone. The Americans, satisfied at length that the way was clear, moved forward and went into camp on the ground which had previously been chosen, throwing out advance lines of pickets, and taking extra precautions to be prepared against a night attack.
Early in the evening shots were heard on the outer picket line, and a little later two men came to the commanding officers tent bringing with them a native.
“He was trying to come through our lines and get into the camp, sir,” they reported. “Two men fired at him, but missed him.”
“Think he’s a spy?” the commander asked of another officer who was with him.
“No, Señor, I am not a spy,” the prisoner said, surprising all the men by speaking in English. “I have left my people, I want to be sent to Manila, to the American camp there.”
“He’s a deserter,” said one of the officers. Then to the men who held the prisoner, “Better search him.”
From out the prisoner’s blouse one of the soldiers brought a paper, a sheet torn from a note book, folded, and fastened only by a red, white and blue badge pin stuck through the paper.
The officer to whom the soldier had handed the paper pulled out the pin which had kept it folded, and started to open it, when he saw there was something written on the side through which the pin had been thrust. Bending down to where the camp light fell upon the writing, he saw that it was an address, scrawled in lead pencil:
“Mrs. Hannah Smith; Nurse.”
“Do you know the woman to whom this letter is sent? he asked in amazement of the Tagalog from whom it had been taken.