# Under MacArthur in Luzon/Chapter 25

CHAPTER XXV
A FRIAR TELLS HIS STORY
The man on the shelf was dressed in the dull-colored garb of a Filipino friar. His face was thin and yellow, and as he gazed down at Ben and the major, the young captain could not help but compare him to some chimpanzee that had broken out of a menagerie. One eye drooped with a wicked leer, while the other was wide open in a commingling of anger and terror.
"Hi, what are you doing up there?" demanded the major.
"I no harm anybody," was the slow answer, delivered in broken English.
"I reckon he thought to hide from us," put in Ben. "He has the dress of a friar, but that may be only a disguise."
"You had better come down," went on the major, as the man did not offer to move.
"You will no shoota me?" questioned the man, suspiciously.
"No; come down."
​How the man had gotten up on the high stone shelf was hard to guess, and it was equally hard for him to gain the floor again. As he fell, rather than leaped, down, he began to sneeze again, for he had a severe cold in the head.
"I must say you don't look like a soldier," continued Major Morris, as he surveyed the individual from head to foot. "Were you fighting with the sharpshooters?"
"No! no!" The friar crossed himself. "I no shoota nobody. I am of de church!" And he crossed himself again.
"Well, what were you doing here? This place hasn't been used as a church for a long time."
"I am a poor friar, señor—verra poor friar. I come to Magalang from Desdenas, thinking to find one friend—one old friend—in Magalang. He is gone,—to de war,—and so I go away poor, and sleep in de church las' night. When I awake, de church is full of de soldiers, an' I was verra much afraid. I come in here an' hide. Bang I bang! de gun go, an' I verra much afraid more! No! no! I no shoota nobody! I like not war, no! no!" And once again the holy man crossed himself, and then began to bow and to sneeze.
​Both Ben and the major could not help but smile. They had met such friars before,—for the Philippines are fairly overrun with them—some good, some indifferent, and some very bad,—and they knew that not one of the order thinks of taking up arms either on one side or the other. Besides, the specimen before them looked so thoroughly uncomfortable and miserable they could not help but pity him.
"If you're all right, we'll not hurt you," said the major.
"T'ank you, señor, t'ank you!" And the friar almost touched the floor with his bowing.
"Are you hungry?" asked Ben.
"Hungry!" The holy man began to mutter something in his native tongue. "I have eaten nothing, sefior,—no, nothing; think of it!—in two days!"
"You shall have something, and at once," said Ben. "You are willing, major?"
"To be sure, captain; give him his fill, poor fellow. I wouldn't be in his boots for a good deal." And while Ben took the friar to where he might have something to comfort the inner man, the major continued his walk through the old building.
​While the friar was eating his fill, Ben questioned the man, to make certain that no mistake was being made whereby he was entertaining a Tagalog spy in disguise. But the fellow was exactly what he claimed to be, and humble to the last degree. He said that he belonged at Morong, but had been in and around Desdenas for several months, doing work for another friar.
"Desdenas," mused Ben. "I have heard of that place before. How far is it from here?"
"Not a many miles, capitan—just beyond Mabalacat, a small place, but verra beautiful, on de side of de mountain."
"It is now held by the Filipinos?"
"Yees, capitan." The friar gazed at his empty plate. "Americano beans are verra good—you have to spare a few more?"
"Yes, help yourself." And the friar did so readily. "Desdenas! I've heard of that place from somebody. Now who was it?" Ben knit his brows in thought. "Oh, yes, that Inez Garabella mentioned it." He turned again to the friar. "What is your name?"
"Monclova, capitan."
"While you were in Desdenas did you meet another friar named Ponprè?"
​"Ponprè! It is the verra same—de man I do work for,—Alfredo Ponprè! De capitan knows him?"
"Not personally, but I have heard of him. He came, I believe, from a town still farther north, a place called Biloguana."
"Yees, yees—dat is he, Alfredo Ponprè—de rich friar. But he gives not much of his wealth away." And the face of Monclova fell abruptly.
"If you worked for him, you must know something about him," went on the young captain, with interest. "Did you ever hear of any affair between him and a rich mine owner named Garabella—a man now dead?"
At this question the friar looked somewhat disturbed, and Ben saw at once that he knew a good deal more than he cared to mention. He sneezed several times and helped himself to some more of the food which had been provided.
"I heara somet'ing—not verra much," he answered slowly. "Da haf troubles, yees, but Garabella is gone now and so—" He finished with a shrug of his lean shoulders. "What you knowa of dees, capitan?"
"I know Inez Garabella, the daughter, and I ​was told that this Ponprè and a man named Moval tried to have Señor Garabella kidnapped and taken to Borneo."
"Yees?" The friar said no more, but his face was suggestive of a good deal.
"You know about this?"
"I heara eet, yees, but perhap it no true—de peoples say so much; not so?"
"Is Ponprè still at Desdenas?"
"Yees—dat is, he was dare t'ree day ago, capitan."
"Where was he stopping?"
"At de house of da rich man, Rousana."
The friar could not, or would not, tell more, and soon after left the camp, stating he was going to work his way to Malolos. It was the first and last time the young captain saw him. But the conversation between the pair was destined to become an important one.
After the taking of Magalang, the regiment to which Ben was attached rested for a day and then moved back toward the line of the railroad. On every hand the native huts and houses were found deserted and empty of all which was valuable. At one point a large rice-house was found, with ​the rice scattered in all directions and trampled in the mud.
"They don't want us to get hold of any of their stores," said Gilbert to Ben.
"I don't blame them," answered the captain. "They are playing the game of war to the best of their ability."
On the day following, the column under General MacArthur moved along the railroad to Malabacat. Here the rebels were intrenched just outside of, the town, but showed only a slight resistance. Colonel Darcy's command was sent to the right wing, which brought the first battalion on a small hill overlooking a fertile valley eastward, backed up by tall mountains. In the valley rested a collection of houses by the side of a winding stream, and after the fighting Ben learned that the hamlet was Desdenas.
"I would like to pay the village a visit," said the captain of Company D to his major.
"For what reason?"
"I would like to meet a friar named Alfredo Ponprè and have a talk with him." And then Ben told Major Morris of what Inez Garabella and Friar Monclova had said.
​"Well, we are ordered to subdue all villages in our track," was the major's answer. "Let us ask Colonel Darcy about this." They hurried to the colonel, had a long talk with him; and the upshot of the matter was that the first battalion moved away to take Desdenas under control.
No resistance was offered to the troops, the few natives left in the village displaying white rags at the doors of their huts in token of friendliness. Accompanied by the major, Ben asked his way to the residence of Señor Rousana, and was directed to a pretty mansion set in a grove of tropical trees.
"He certainly lives in pretty good style," remarked the major as the two strode up the shady garden path. "Wonder if he is a Filipino sympathizer?"
"It's more than likely," answered Ben. "The majority of them are, behind Uncle Sam's back."
A knock on the door brought a neat waiting-maid to answer their summons. She looked much disturbed upon seeing the American officers, and fled at once without waiting to hear what they might have to say.
"She's mighty civil," remarked the major, dryly, ​and sat down on a rattan bench to await developments. Soon they heard' voices coming from one of the rooms overlooking the veranda, the blinds of the windows being closed to shut out the glaring sunshine.
"An interruption, Ponprè," said a deep voice, in Spanish. "We shall have to postpone the business."
"I cannot wait any longer," was the answer; and Ben felt certain it was Alfredo Ponprè who was speaking. "You know Barnabas Moval wishes the will. If you—"
"You have the document handy?" demanded the first speaker.
"Yes."
"And it was signed by Garabella?"
"Yes."
"How did you obtain it?"
"That was my affair, Señor Rousana. I have it, and by this, you or Moval can obtain possession of that mine—"
"Hush, Ponprè, remember the old saying, that walls sometimes leak. We will talk further after I have finished with these intruders. I know not what has brought them here. Sit down till I have interviewed them."
​The conversation came to an end, and in a minute more Señor Rousana appeared on the veranda and bowed low.
"A great honor," he said, in an oily manner. "May I ask what brings you Americans to my humble home?"
"I want to talk to Friar Ponprè," said Ben, shortly.
"Yes? And you are—?" Señor Rousana paused inquiringly.
"I am Captain Ben Russell, of the American army."
At the mention of the name there was a slight movement in the room beyond. Stepping to the blind of a handy window, Ben threw it open suddenly, and found himself face to face with Alfredo Ponprè, who had come forward to listen to what was being said.