He did not answer her this time, but sat, staring out across the plaza, thinking of his men, away there on Felizardo’s mountain-side; at last her voice recalled him. “You are from the South, Captain Hayle?”
He clutched eagerly at the chance of changing the subject completely; and from then, until her husband appeared, there was no more mention of bolomen and their doings.
Captain Bush proved to be a big man, as tall as Hayle himself, though much heavier—flabby, most people would have said—good-looking in a way, though his eye was watery and his chin weak. You could see at a glance why they had transferred him from the Regular Infantry to the Scouts, and sent him to an out-station. They do not like heavy drinkers in the American Service, any more than they like amateur soldiers, or brigadier-generals appointed from the circle of the President’s personal friends.
Captain Bush had already heard something of Hayle’s defeat, though he did not explain how or where. Basil, on his part, did not trouble to go into the story very fully. He had taken an immediate dislike to Bush, and he felt that the latter was by no means grieved over the disaster which had befallen the rival force. Still, the Scout officer agreed readily enough to let him have the stores he needed, and to allow the remnant of the Constabulary to occupy some vacant quarters in the barracks. As soon as this was arranged, Hayle rose to leave, but Mrs Bush detained him.
“Oh, Captain Hayle, you must stay to dinner now. Mustn’t he, John?”
Bush nodded assent, but Basil looked down at his dirty, torn uniform. “I don’t think I can, really——” he began; but his hostess cut him short.
“You say they have burned all your kit, so how can you help that? And, after all, one gets used to things in the Philippines. Where are you going to stay in Igut? I wish we could put you up, but I’m afraid it’s quite impossible.”
“There’s a Spaniard here I know,” he answered. “Don Juan Ramirez. I promised I would stay with him, if I ever came to Igut, and I sent one of my men to tell him as soon as I got in. I really ought to go there now, but, still, he will forgive me, I expect, when I tell him that you insisted.”
Mrs Bush nodded. “He’s a dear old man, quite different from——” She broke off abruptly, and turned to her husband, who was tugging moodily at his moustache. “John, I expect Captain Hayle would like a wash and a drink before dinner.”
Bush brightened up considerably after the second cocktail, and after the fourth—his fourth, Basil was more careful—he was quite familiar and sympathetic. “Shame to send you up there,” he said. “A rabble like yours is no good. They ought to have sent a couple of companies of Scouts. We should have cleaned them up, sure enough.”