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homo when I was a more child , and
\vout with a regiment of Highlanders
to take part in the Crimean war. If
you ever get over to Dagupau , don't
fail to hunt up John Cummiugs. ' '
The Little Aguinaldo.
The sun beat down fiercely for the
early morning. I was hurrying along
a muddy road for I wanted to reach
Bam Bam that night. A few miles
to my loft loomed the green coast
mountains. Suddenly , as if by magic ,
a band of Filipinos appeared in the
foothills , and came towards me.
They were mounted on small bay
ponies , and were formed in what
seemed to be four troops of cavalry.
I crawled into a bunch of nigh grass
as they drew near. They were head
ing for another spur of the mountains
in front of where I was concealed.
I began to think it was all up with
me , when they changed their course
and passed me at about fifty paces. In
the center of the band was a little
man with black hair , riding a sorrel
horse. I have heard him called
Aguiualdp.
He reminded me of General Wheeler.
Why such a fancy should have struck
me I do not know , unless it was his
horsemanship or his size , for they
certainly do not look anything alike.
The small body of cavalry soon dis
appeared in the hills. It was nine
miles to the nearest troops. That
night I reported what I had seen , but
I don't think it helped them to catch
the little fellow.
Captain Lawrence.
'Twas on the day of the fizzling
fight at Tarlac that I first saw Captain
Lawrence. Previous to that time I
had heard his gentle voice. It was
the night after Angeles was taken ,
some two months before. He was
then in charge of a field piece sta
tioned somewhere east of the town.
The night was very clear and we could
hear him sing out every few minutes :
"Give the Yankee devils hell ! "
Then would follow .the report of a
gun. Several shells dropped in town ,
but few exploded. The next morning
I picked one up , it was about
fourinches in diameter , with at least
a quart of small shot inside. The con
ditions were quite different under
which I saw Captain Lawrence and
heard his gentle voice for the second
time.
He was taken with a small squad of
native artillerymen at Tarlac. I had a
good look at him as he marched up the
street , a s ort , red headed man in
the prime of life , full of fire and the
devil. I could not help but admire
his nerve , even if he was making a
fool of himself.
Chug , squeak , squeak , chug : that
is the way L left Tarlac. In a little
dingy car , drawn by a staggering en
gine that looked as if it had been
made in the seventeenth century , and
moved at fully eight miles an hour.
The Chicken Hunters.
It was early in November , I was
staying at Oapas , a small town then
guarded by a company of negro
soldiers. One day three of the boys
went out to get some chickens. A few
minutes later , firing commenced in the
direction they had taken. The com
pany was ordered out to investigate
the trouble. I wont with the rest ,
and we soon found the reason. On a
little hillside near a bamboo thicket ,
wo came across one of the chicken
hunters. Ho had been literally cut
to pieces , and around him lay a ring
of empty rifle shells. Ho had died
game. What became of the other two
was never known.
Shot at a Regiment and Killed a Crow.
If you have ever been at Angeles ,
on the Manila & Dagupan railroad ,
you may have noticed an old dead
bamboo standing near the track. A
crow used to light there every morn
ing and caw loudly for several min
utes. Ho was an East India crow
and as noisy a one as I over heard.
One morning , as I rolled from my
blanket , I was surprised on not hear
ing my black neighbor piercing the
still air with his clarion notes.
For the first time since I had known
him he was silent and as motionless
as the dead bamboo in which he
perched. I think he was waiting for
the end. A little puff of white smoke
drifted up from a distant rice field :
the crow flapped his wings and fell
down through the tangled network
of thorns. A Remington bullet went
humming over head and then skipping
down the road.
A Filipino bravo had shot at a regi
ment and killed a crow.
The Carnage of War.
A few miles west of Bam Bam are
the ruins of an old town. In the fall
of ' 99 , it was captured by the Ameri
can forces. During the fight , fire
broke out and the place was burned to
the ground. I waded through the
black ashes on my way to the former
town ; desolation and ruin were every
where. In the outskirts of the town
I came across a pile of freshly cut
rice ; I pushed it aside with my foot.
A little child lay dead underneath.
It could not have been over a week
old , and I am quite sure that it did
not weigh a pound.
Waylaid.
A great wall of tall bamboo loomed
up on both sides of the road it was
not a safe place for one to be alone.
Hounding a bend , I saw two Filipino
soldiers hid in the thicket. Nowhere
hero was a nice box ! I did not dare
to pass them for fear they would at
tack me from behind and so catch me
off my guard. There was only one
thing to do. Drawing my revolver ,
I walked boldly towards them. I had
not taken a dozen steps when they both
came smiling from their hiding place ,
saying in their softest Spanish ,
"Omega , omega. "
They were only armed with bolo
knives and I demanded the weapons.
What a pitiful story they did put up
of how they were only out looking
for straight bamboos with which to
build a fence. But I did not care to geoff
off and leave those bolo men to bring
up the rear , so made off with their
knives.
One of them still kept repeating
"Omega , omega. " This word does
not always mean friend in Spanish , as
have since found out to my sorrow.
I came to a long procession carrying
household goods , water jugsand other
things upon their heads. As I drew
near they knelt down upon the ground
and uncovering their heads , remained
there until I had passed. If Spain and
her soldiery heaped such laws upon
them , and then caused those laws to
bo enforced , can we wonder at the '
result ?
A Peculiar Shot.
December had come ; Major Logan
and six of his battalion had been killed
at San Fabian. I was going from
Angeles to San Fernando , in company
with three Spanish soldiers who had
recently escaped from the insurgent
Hues. They were thin and looked
worn out , as if their eighteen mouths
of captivity had not been all roses.
We were neariug San Fernando ,
when a rifle barked from a weedy
field to our left. One of the Spaniards
clapped his hands to his breast and
fell across the track. Wo turned him
over : he was dead. The ball must
have passed through or very near his
heart. That was the only straight
shot I ever saw a Filipino make , and
I am not sure that he hit the man at
whom lie aimed.
I Fell Asleep in the Road.
Reveille sounded one morning at
three o'clock. I guessed there would
be some fighting and I wanted to be in
at the killing. Blanket rolls were
hastily made up , traveling" rations
given out , and in less than an hour
the regiment was on the move.
I followed in the rear of the first
company with the quartermaster , a
tall Arkansau that the boys called
"high pockets. " It was always a mys
tery to kme how he escaped getting
hit , for ho was just the right height
to catch all the sky ward Filipino bul
lets.
lets.All
All day we tramped in a deluge of
rain. Little rivers were running
down the road , and we could see the
water rise slowly over the tops of the
rice fields. Only twice during the
long day did that tramping body of
shoes stop for a short rest. My feet
were covered with blisters. The sand
had worked in around the bottoms of
my shoes , and getting under my feet ,
acted like sand paper.
On and on they went , and still the
rain fell in torrents. It must have
been twelve o'clock , midnight , when
they halted for a little rest. I lay
down by the road side : I never was so
sleepy in my life. If some one had
threatened to kill mo if I closed my
eyes , I am quite sure that I would
have laughed in his face , and then gone
to sleep.
I awoke to see the first streaks of
day peeping over the eastern hills.
I was lying in a puddle of water ; the
regiment was no where in sight.
Steely gray clouds were scudding
across the heavens ; big silvery drops
from last night's rain were falling
down through the bamboo loaves. I
had slept the greater part of the night ,
in a down pour of rain , and let the
boys walk off and leave me.
A heavy firing commenced down the
road ; I jumped to my feet and started
off as fast as my stiff limbs could
carry me. Two hours of hard walking
and I caught up with the reigment.
The fight was over. I saw a few
dead natives piled up in an old house.
A sergeant turned to me and said :
"I hear General Lawton lias been
killed. ' '
STOPS THE COUGH AND WORKS OFF
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