Up on Felizardo’s mountains they saw the smoke, and reported the fact to the old chief, who nodded and said: “I am glad. Silang was no place for a brave man like that. Down at Calocan, which I know well, he may find work to do. There are insurrectos in the town itself, and ladrones in the bush, the two working hand in hand. Possibly, he may build up the gallows again, for the third time. Who knows? There are many in Calocan who need hanging, even as it used to be thirty-six years ago, when I worked in the warehouse of Don José Ramirez. The old corporal of the Guardia Civil kept order well in those days, and I think this young captain of the Constabulario will keep order too. They need a strong man. There should always be a gallows at Calocan, as I, Felizardo, have reason to know.”
Basil halted for the night at Igut, staying with Don Juan Ramirez, but he did not have a meal in Mrs Bush’s house, nor did she ask him to stay for one, Captain Bush himself being away at San Francisco, higher up the valley. Still, they had a long talk, sitting out on the balcony, where all men might see them.
“I am glad you wrote,” he said suddenly. “I wanted to do so myself often, but, somehow, I was afraid to begin. What made you do it?”
She looked away towards Felizardo’s mountains. “I had news for you,” she said in a low voice, “the news of what had happened up on the mountain-side, where my husband and Lieutenant Vigne went after the outlaws.”
For a while neither of them spoke. Then “They are the only letters I get,” he said abruptly. “There is no one else, there never was any one else, and there never will be.”
Mrs Bush did not look round. It was the first time he had given any hint of his feelings, at least in words, and she dare not let him see her face, distrusting herself. When at last she did speak it was of her husband. “I am sorry John is away,” she said; “you might have liked to hear his account of the great and inglorious expedition against Felizardo …. And so you are going to Calocan. It will not be so dull there as at Silang. You will be much nearer Manila. Calocan—was not that where they executed those insurrectos who tried to burn this town? Yes, I thought so. You were going to tell me one day why you were so bitter against that man Vagas.”
Basil muttered something inaudible, and got up suddenly, whereupon Mrs Bush, feeling she had already punished him sufficiently for his outburst, for which she was partially responsible, made him sit down again, and from that point onwards they avoided dangerous subjects. Only, when he got back to Don Juan’s, the old Spaniard’s quick eyes saw that there was something wrong, and knowing much concerning Captain Bush, was sorry for Mrs Bush and Basil Hayle. Still, as he said to himself, it was a good thing that the Constabulary officer was not quartered in Igut itself, for any man with eyes in his head could see that, perhaps unknown to himself, Basil Hayle had become a convert to the code of the Bolo, and that, sooner or later, he would kill Captain Bush. His very quietness was in itself a dangerous sign; or at least old Don Juan, who knew most things connected with such matters, looked on it in that light.
Basil saw Mrs Bush once more, early on the following morning. He had drawn his men up in the plaza, and was about to start, when he caught sight of her in the doorway of her house. He told the old serjeant to march the company off down the Calocan road, then himself went across the square to say farewell.
“Is it au revoir again?” he asked.
Mrs Bush nodded. “Of course. It is always au revoir—with you.”