# Under MacArthur in Luzon/Chapter 18

CHAPTER XVIII
CAPTURING ADOZ, THE GUERILLA
"I reckon we have found the guerilla chief!" cried Gilbert, as the Americans came to a halt behind a tumbled-down stone wall, attached to the old watch-tower.
"He seems to have found us," answered Major Morris, with an anxious look in his face. "Come, follow me. We have no time to waste here."
"Major, have ye got a particklar dislike ef I take jest one shot?" came from Ralph Sorrel, the tall Tennesseean.
"No; shoot if you have anything to shoot at," was the answer, and it was not yet fully delivered when Sorrel's rifle came up and there was a sharp crack, followed by a distant yell, and a Filipino fell out of some bushes not a hundred yards distant.
"Knew as how I could fetch him," murmured the mountaineer.
The party moved on, along the stone wall, until they reached a clump of bushes, behind which was ​a small mountain stream running down to the lake. The stream was fringed with bushes and tall reeds.
"A camp-fire!" whispered Dan Casey, pointing across the stream. "It's burnin' lively, too. Sure, an' thim rebels was makin' thimselves at home."
"A horse—three of them," came from Gilbert soon after, and he pointed out the animals, tethered in the grass back of the stream. "One of them has an officer's trappings."
They pushed on, with rifles and pistols ready for immediate use should the occasion arise. But no more shots came, and reaching a road behind the watch-tower, they found it practically deserted.
"They have slipped away," said Gilbert. "It's the usual Filipino trick."
"Forward, on the double-quick!" cried the major. "There are six of the enemy running for the jungle on the left!"
The major was right, and soon they were speeding across the field behind the watch-tower. The stream had to be waded, and they sank in mud ankle deep. But no one minded this, and coming up on safe ground, they made after the flying ones at a smarter gait than ever. Three shots were ​fired back at them, but none took effect. Then the Americans fired, and two of the Filipinos were wounded, one mortally.
"See, two of the enemy are running in a semicircle," said Gilbert, presently. "What does that mean?"
"They are after those horses!" answered the major. "Come, we'll cut them off." And away he ran, with Gilbert at his heels. The others were about to follow, but had to turn their attention to the remaining Filipinos, and soon the major and the lieutenant found themselves alone.
As the two officers came out on a side road, they heard a calling in the field, which was separated from the road by a tall hedge. Pushing the bushes aside, they made out two Filipino officers in the act of mounting two of the horses which had been tethered at the spot.
"Surrender!" cried the major, and aimed a shot with his pistol, while Gilbert did the same. Two shots came back in return, and then one of the officers leaped into the saddle.
The second officer tried to follow, but before he could mount, Major Morris was upon him. The major's pistol was now empty, and so was that of ​the Filipino, and it was a battle with swords, first in front of the horse and then around the animal. The blows flew thick and hot, and soon the major found that he had met a man fully worthy of his steel.
In the meantime, although the other officer had succeeded in mounting, his horse was scared, and instead of moving as directed, pranced around madly in a semicircle, throwing himself so wildly that the rider had to hold on around the beast's neck to keep from being thrown off.
"Stop!" called out Gilbert; but it was so much breath wasted, for the Filipino could not have stopped had he wished. Suddenly the horse bolted and made for the brush at the far end of the field. The rider was still on him, but he had dropped his pistol, and this weapon Gilbert now ran and picked up. It was silver-mounted and bore the name, in quaint Spanish lettering, Adoz.
"Adoz!" cried the young Southerner. "He must be the noted guerilla chief. Oh, if only I could bag him!"
Hardly had the thought entered his mind than the third horse came up to him, swishing his tail nervously. Without giving a second thought to ​what he was doing, Gilbert vaulted into the high Spanish saddle. His hot Southern blood was all aflame with excitement.
"I'll run him down!" he muttered between his set teeth. "I'll run him down or know the reason why I cannot!" And, urging the horse forward, he was soon across the field and into the bushes, with not even a glance back to see how the major was faring.
The way was uncertain, and Gilbert knew that he was running a big risk in following General Adoz into an unknown territory which might be alive with insurgents. Yat he was in a truly reckless spirit and ready almost for anything. On and on he went, through several fields of low brush and across low stone fences. Then he came out on a well-formed natural highway, lined here and there with nipa huts. These huts he was pleased to note were deserted.
General Adoz had now secured control of his steed and was moving forward at a sharp trot. The officer often glanced back, and once he waved his sword savagely at Gilbert. In return the young lieutenant fired on him, the bullet cutting through the guerilla's coat sleeve, and making him take ​hastily to a side trail, overhung in spots with low tree branches.
As Adoz had not fired in return, the lieutenant felt certain that he had no second pistol, and now he urged his own steed forward with renewed vigor, bent upon taking his man alive if it could possibly be accomplished. The road was narrow and dangerous, and once he had to bend low over his horse's side, or a tree limb would have struck and probably killed him.
"He means to get away if he can," muttered Gilbert to himself, as the wild chase continued. Then, of a sudden, he heard a clatter on some rocks, a yell of alarm, and all became deadly silent.
What did it mean? Gilbert slowed up, but did not come to a halt. The trees were tall along the trail, the sun was under a cloud, and it was far from light in consequence. He was on the point of dismounting when he caught sight of General Adoz's horse coming toward him, riderless.
"Something serious has happened, that's sure," thought the young Southerner, and now alighted, but kept a firm hold of his steed's bridle. There was a turn just ahead, and coming to this he ​made out a rocky ravine, which had been spanned by a half-rotten wooden bridge. The bridge had given way in the centre and only a few bits of cracked timbers clung to the side upon which Gilbert was located.
Feeling that the guerilla had been thrown into the ravine, the lieutenant moved to the brink and peered over. There was General Adoz, clinging to a big rock, ten feet below the roadway. Beneath the guerilla was a sheer decline of fifty feet, with jagged stones at the bottom.
"Hi, below there!" shouted Gilbert. "Do you surrender now?"
"Yees! yees!" called General Adoz, in very bad English. "Saf me, señor, saf me!"
"I will, if you'll promise to behave yourself."
"I vill surrendor! Saf me!" cried the Filipino. He was white in the face, for his hold was uncertain, and death appeared to lurk in the rocks below him.
At first Gilbert was in a quandary as to what had best be done. Then he took from the horse's trappings such straps as he could loosen with ease and buckled them together.
"Here, reach the strap!" he called out, as he ​braced himself and lowered one end. "Don't be afraid; I won't let it slip."
"You—you vill hol' fas'?" asked the guerilla, suspiciously.
"Yes."
"I am von heafy man."
"I can manage you, if you don't get caught on the rocks. Now then, if you want me to pull you up."
The end of the strap dangled directly in front of the guerilla, and feeling that he could not remain where he was forever, he made a wild clutch at it and held on like grim death.
The load was a heavy one, and had not Gilbert been able to twist one foot fast in a gnarled tree root, he must certainly have been pulled over into the ravine on top of the guerilla. As it was, the straps strained and cracked, as if ready to snap in two, and every inch of gain had to be bought at the cost of sheer muscular power. But at last the head of the guerilla came over the ravine bank, and then he readily helped himself to a place of safety.
"You've had a narrow escape—" began Gilbert.
Instead of replying, the guerilla chief scowled ​darkly at him. There was that in his wicked eyes which caused Gilbert fresh alarm, but before the young lieutenant could make a single move, Adoz was on him with the spring of a tiger and had hurled him backward.
"Dog! to think I would surrender to you!" he hissed, in Spanish. "Instead I will run you through with your own sword!" And he began to clutch for the weapon, his own being at the bottom of the ravine.
The young Southerner could not get at his pistol, nor could he manage to reach his sword. But he caught Adoz's arm and held it with a grip of steel.
Over and over rolled the pair, out into the roadway and then toward the broken end of the bridge. The Filipino was a powerful man weighing twenty or thirty pounds more than the young lieutenant, and Gilbert found himself unable to shake the man loose. Adoz had the handle of the sword, but so far the lieutenant had prevented the guerilla from withdrawing it from the scabbard.
The struggle had lasted five minutes and Gilbert began to feel weak, for the guerilla had come down upon him with all force, nearly knocking the wind ​out of him. The breath of each came short and hard, for the struggle was now nearing an end, and Gilbert was beginning to fear that he was to come out second best.
"If I cannot use the sword, I can at least hurl you into the ravine!" panted Adoz, speaking again in his native tongue. So saying, he let go the handle of the blade and clutched Gilbert by the throat and the shoulder. "Die, you pig!" he added viciously.
"Le—let go m—my throat!" came from the lieutenant. And then, as Adoz still held on, he raised his foot and kicked the guerilla in the stomach with all his might. A grunt of anguish followed, and for an instant the grip of the Filipino general slackened. Then Gilbert reached for his sword and managed to draw it.
With the sword at his breast, General Adoz felt that he must make a new move, and so leaped back several paces. In the contest Gilbert's pistol had fallen in the roadway, and his eye fell upon this. But so did the eye of the lieutenant, and simultaneously they rushed for the firearm. Gilbert got in ahead and placed his foot upon it.
A clatter was now heard on the road, followed ​by a cry in Major Morris's voice. He was coming straight in that direction, and Gilbert yelled to him to hurry. With the calling General Adoz started to retreat, but Gilbert promptly raised the pistol and covered him. In a moment more Major Morris was at hand, and a second muzzle was thrust toward the guerilla chief, who thereupon cried out that he would surrender.
"You said you would do that before," said Gilbert. "Up with your hands. If you attempt to lower them a single inch, I'll blow your worthless brains out."
The young lieutenant told the major what had occurred, and it was decided to bind the guerilla's hands and tie him on his horse. General Adoz wished to argue the matter, and presently offered them a thousand dollars, Spanish money, if they would release him; but to his protestations and his offer they paid no attention. Soon the Americans were riding back to the watch-tower, with their prisoner between them.
"I had a stiff fight of my own," said the major, as they rode along. "That other fellow was a skilful swordsman, I can tell you that."
"What became of him?"
"He is lying in the shade where I placed him. He ​scratched my arm, but I planted my blade directly through his shoulder. He is good for several months in the hospital."
Upon returning to the field where the wounded man lay, it was learned that he was Captain Cansario, one of Adoz's private staff,—a villain who had long been wanted by the Spanish government for unlawful appropriations of public funds.
The others of the party soon put in an appearance. Casey had received a slight wound in the shoulder, while Carl Stummer had nearly ended his life by a tumble into a hidden well.
"Put've scattered dem Filibinos, I can tell you dot," said the German soldier. "Ve kill more as a tozen of dem."
As the fisherman could not be found, the party had to row themselves back to Candaras, which was no mean thing to do, for they had to guess at the direction in which the village lay. The major ordered the party to wait until dark, fearing that some insurgents might be at the village to give them a surprise. But none of the enemy turned up, and by daybreak the next day the major's party was safe back in camp with their prisoners.
The capture of the notorious General Adoz and ​his equally notorious hireling, Captain Cansario, created something of a sensation, and Gilbert and Major Morris speedily became the lions of the day. Both were complimented by their superiors and given to understand that they would be recommended for special bravery—which, in the army and navy, means a recommendation for advancement.