# Under MacArthur in Luzon/Chapter 11

CHAPTER XI
FOLLOWED BY NEGRITOS
When Walter came to his senses he found himself in utter darkness. His head ached as if it would split open, and there were sharp, shooting pains, down his back. He lay on a dirt flooring, and his hands and feet were tightly bound with ropes made of tough tropical vines.
"Where in the world am I? How did I come here?" Such were the first questions which he asked himself. He thought of the awful storm and of how he and Si had been pitched around. Was this the end of that adventure and was he in some cave at the bottom of the ocean?
A memory of those ferocious-looking faces so close to his own aroused him, and then he remembered how he had been seized and thrown down, and he gave a deep shudder. He was in the hands of the enemy!
"A prisoner!" he groaned, half aloud. "And ​they have put me in this place, which must be some sort of cave! What will they do next?"
A deep groan from a short distance away reached his ears and caused him to listen intently. Presently the groan was repeated.
"Si! Si!" he called. "Si, is that you?"
At first there was no answer. Then the Yankee's voice was raised in pitiful pleading: "Don't hit me again! Please don't hit me!"
"Si!" continued Walter. "Si! They are not hitting you any more. rouse up!"
Another groan from Si, followed by words Walter could not understand. At last the Yankee lad aroused himself.
"Why—er—what in thunder has happened to me?" he cried. "Oh, my head!"
"Si!"
"Walter! Where are you?"
"Over here, bound hands and feet."
"So am I bound. My, but didn't those villains do us up for keeps?"
"They certainly did."
"What are we to do?"
"I'm sure I don't know. Have you any idea how long it's been since we were made prisoners?"
​"Not the slightest."
A pause followed, and during that time Walter managed to roll over and over until he bumped up against his chum. Si lay close to a rocky wall, which proved that they were in a cave.
"We must get free, and that quickly," continued Walter. "For all we know our ship has already sailed."
"Don't say that, Walter, don't! They wouldn't be mean enough to desert us, would they?"
"I don't know. One thing is certain, though: they couldn't afford to stay here very long looking for us. The orders were to proceed to Manila as quickly as possible. We only dropped anchor in the bay because it was absolutely necessary."
"Well, if we were free, we might do something. Can you untie my hands if I back up to you?"
"I can try," replied Walter.
Without delay the Yankee lad turned over and brought his wrists to where Walter could easily touch them. It was no easy job to unloosen the twisted vines, and Walter's nails were much broken over the task. But at last he succeeded in freeing his chum.
"Good for you," said Si. "Now I'll do as much ​for you," and he did. Then the bonds were taken from their feet, and each arose slowly, with more than one groan which seemed impossible to suppress. Si had a severe cut over his left ear, and from this the blood had flowed over his cheek. Walter was not cut, but there was a lump on his temple as large as a chicken egg. All their weapons had been taken from them.
"If we had a light," said Si, "we might get out easily. Have you a match?"
"No."
"No more have I, wuss luck. Well, come on, but be careful you don't knock your head off on some overhanging rock."
Not caring to become separated in that Stygian darkness, they moved forward side by side, each with his hands extended.
"Water!" cried Walter, a minute later, and came to a halt. They had chanced upon a tiny stream.
"That's all right," said Si. "We can get a drink first and then wash our hurts." And this they proceeded to do without delay.
"This stream must lead somewhere," went on Walter. "Let us follow it. Perhaps it will bring us to the sea."
​"Jest the thing, Walter. But don't make sech a noise. Them natives may not be far off."
The stream was not over a foot deep and less than a yard wide, and they followed it with ease, around a series of rocks and then through some brushwood into the open air. Here they found themselves in a deep ravine, a veritable split in the hills, with a jungle upon either side and the twinkling stars shining far overhead.
"It must be about the middle of the night," remarked the Yankee youth. "I reckon we'll do well if we strike the shore afore morning. If the ship—"
"Hush!" came in warning from Walter, and he clapped his hand over his chum's mouth. He had caught sight of a camp-fire smouldering at a distance, and he pointed it out.
"Whose do you suppose it is? " whispered Si.
"The natives', most likely."
"Perhaps it's some friends from the transport."
"Possibly, but I don't think so."
"Let us git a bit closer and investigate, Walter."
He made out the dim forms of several menPage 109
​seen. Evidently the camp had been deserted hours before.
"I don't see anybody," whispered Walter.
"Nor I. Let us go on." And the journey down the tiny stream was resumed. Soon they came to a little waterfall, and here it was with difficulty that they let themselves down the rocks for a distance of fifteen feet or more. When almost to the bottom, poor Si slipped and landed in a thorn bush.
"Wow!" he cried. "O dear me! I'm bein' stuck to death! Save me!" Walter ran to his aid, but it was not until Si's trousers had been torn in several places that he was released from his unpleasant situation.
"You've made a good deal of noise," said Walter, quickly. "We had better get along, or the natives will be following us." And they started off at an increased rate of speed. But the path was uncertain, and before he knew it, Walter pitched headlong into a wet hole.
"Hullo, you're as bad as me," cried Si, and started to help Walter up, when he heard a savage cry, coming from the top of the ravine, on their left. Looking in the direction, he made out the dim forms of several men, evidently natives, for each flourished a war-club.
​"The Filipinos!" burst out Walter, as he, too, saw the enemy. "Run, Si, run, before it is too late!" Hand in hand they sped down the side of the mountain stream, over rocks and through the brush. Often they plunged into the water, and once Walter fell flat, wetting himself from head to feet. But still they kept on, until both were winded.
"I—I can't go on no further nohow!" gasped the Yankee youth. "I'm tuckered out. Go on an' save yourself." And he staggered up against a near-by tree.
"We must go on, Si—we simply must!" insisted Walter. "Come, perhaps we'll find some place where we can hide."
Thus urged, the Yankee boy essayed to go on. But his breath came short and painful, and he staggered as if ready to go down at each instant.
In the meantime the natives were drawing closer, and several of them had leaped down into the ravine and were coming up in the immediate rear. One stopped to shoot an arrow at them, but the shaft flew wide of its mark in the semi-darkness.
Seeing that Si could go but a little further at the most, Walter strained his eyes to catch sight of some spot where they might hide. The ravine was ​widening out, and not far away was a jungle of tropical trees and heavy undergrowth. Thither he led the way.
"Let us lose ourselves in the jungle; it's our only chance," he whispered, and gripped Si by the arm to steady him. But the Yankee youth could no longer stand,—being still weak from his fishing adventure as well as from the way he had been handled by the Filipinos,—and he sank down in a state of utter collapse.
Walter was in a quandary. Should he desert his friend and go on? It seemed the only thing to do in order to save himself. But a glance at his chum made him grit his teeth. No, he would save Si or be captured with him.
The load was a heavy one, but the excitement of the moment gave Walter strength, and throwing his chum over his shoulder like a sack of flour, he plunged boldly into the jungle. Fortunately the vines were not numerous at this locality, so they did not stay his progress. The bushes scratched his face and hands, but to this he paid no attention. His sole thought was to put distance between himself and the enemy. On and on and still on he went, his knees trembling beneath his heavy load and ​his breath coming in sharp gasps. At last, unable to go another step, he sank down in the midst of some brushwood, let Si slide from his shoulder, and went off in a temporary faint for the want of breath.
The natives had seen them enter the jungle and now started in pursuit. But underneath the dense trees it was totally dark and soon they had to come to a halt. Torches were lit, and they set about finding the trail of the Americanos. They were Negritos—the native name for Little Blacks—belonging to that tribe which inhabits nearly the entire northern portion of Luzon. They were small in stature, thin and bony, with high cheek bones and faces which were peculiarly cold and bloodthirsty. This tribe of Negritos number about twenty-five thousand, and they have been aptly called by students of ethnology the primitive men of the Philippines. In intelligence they are not above the better-known Australian bushmen. That they were at one time cannibals has been settled beyond a doubt.