The Campaign of the Jungle Part 16

"No--no--I'm not all--all right," came with a gasp. "I've had my wi--wind knocked ou--out of me."

"Any bones broken?"

"I gue--guess not. But wh--who ever heard of such a con--founded trick?"

"I've heard of it several times, major. But we are not as bad off as we might have been had the rebels put some sharp sticks down here to spit us with."

"True." Major Morris gave a grunt, and wiped the dirt from his eyes.

"Well, I reckon we've learned what their engineering corps was up to."

This was said so dryly that in spite of his discomfiture Ben was compelled to laugh.

"Yes, we've learned. The question is, now we are down here, how are we going to get out?"

"Better make a light and see how deep the hole is first," replied the commander of the first battalion.

Fortunately Ben had plenty of matches with him, and striking one, he lit a bamboo stalk and held it up as a torch. By the flickering light thus afforded they saw that the hole was about eight feet wide and twice as long. The level of the road above was fully eight feet over their heads.

"Looks as if we were in a box, eh, captain?" said the major, grimly.

"We're certainly in a hole," responded Ben. "But I think we can get out without much trouble. I wish we had a spade."

"Well, wishing won't bring one, and there is nothing here to take the place of one, either."

"Nothing but our hands. Here, if you'll hold the light, I'll see what I can do."

"Here is a bit of a flat stick, try that," rejoined Major Morris; and taking the article mentioned, Ben set to work with vigor, attacking one end of the hole by loosening the dirt so that a large portion of it soon fell at their feet. Standing upon the fallen portion he continued his operations, and presently more of the dirt fell, leaving an incline up which both began to scramble on hands and knees. It was not a very dignified thing to do, but it was far better than to remain in the hole, and besides, there was n.o.body at hand to comment on the want of dignity in the movement.

"We are well out of that," began Major Morris, brushing off his clothing as he spoke. "In the future--"

"Hold on, major, somebody is coming," interrupted Ben, and pulled his companion back. He had seen a faint light advancing toward them, from a side road which joined the main road at a point but a few yards distant. Soon he made out a heavy cart approaching, drawn by a pair of caribaos, or water buffaloes. On the seat of the cart sat two sleepy-looking natives.

"We must stop that cart," was the major's comment. "If we don't, there will be a bad smash-up."

"I don't think it's a good plan to expose ourselves," replied Ben.

"But do you want those chaps to break their necks?" demanded the commander of the first battalion. "More than likely they are _amigos_."

"I've got a plan for warning them, major."

As Ben spoke he picked up some of the driest of the gra.s.s and palm leaves and applied a match to the stuff. It blazed up readily, and he threw the ma.s.s in with the other stuff about the edge of the hole.

"There, if they can't see that they must be blind," he said. "Come, let us get out," and off they ran for the thicket close at hand. From here they watched the cart and saw it come to a halt near the hole and knew that the turnout was safe.

"I shouldn't think the rebels would care to leave those holes about,"

was Major Morris' comment, as they pushed on once more. "They are as dangerous to their own people as they are to us."

"I suppose they tell their own people about them."

"Those men on the buffalo cart evidently knew nothing."

"The rebels don't care for the _amigos_. Their idea is, if a native is not with them, he is against them, and must suffer with the Americans."

To play the part of spies in such a country as this was not easy, for the Americans were easily distinguished from the natives. Had Ben and the major spoken Spanish fluently, they might have pa.s.sed for Spaniards, as each was tanned from constant exposure to the strong sun. But this could not be, and so they had to go ahead and trust to luck to see them through with their dangerous errand.

At length they felt that they must be close to the enemy's picket line, and paused to consider the situation. Before them was a gentle slope, terminating at a small but deep stream which flowed into the Rio Grande River.

"I think some of the rebels are over there," said the major, pointing to a hill, from the top of which could be seen a faint glow. "There is certainly a camp-fire back there."

"There is a house just below us," returned Ben. "Or is it a mill?"

"A mill most likely. They wouldn't build an ordinary dwelling right at the water's edge."

"Perhaps the rebels are using the mill as a sort of headquarters. What do you say if we investigate?"

The major agreed, and they began to pick their way along the stream.

Soon they reached a rude bridge, and were on the point of crossing, when a sharp cry rang out from the building they were approaching.

"Hullo, that's a woman's voice!" exclaimed Ben. "Somebody is in trouble."

"Help! thief! murderer!" came in Spanish. "Oh, help, for the love of kind Heaven, help!"

"It's a woman, true enough!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the major. "I wonder what the trouble is?"

"I'm going to find out," answered Ben. The cry for aid appealed to his heart, and he bounded toward the mill-house, for such the building proved to be, without further hesitation. Nor was Major Morris far behind him.

As they came closer they saw that the structure was dark, saving for a faint light that came from one of the rooms built over the mill stream. It was in this room, evidently, that some sort of struggle was going on, for now both heard the cry for help repeated, followed by the overturning of a table. Then came the voices of two men, and the cry came to a sudden end.

"Two men are misusing some woman," cried Ben, "come on!" and rushing around to the front of the building, he found the rickety stairs leading to the house floor, and bounded upward. The door at the top stood ajar and he pushed it in, with Major Morris at his heels. The room at hand was dark, the struggle was going on in the apartment next to it.

Ben paused long enough to see that his pistol had not sustained any injury in the tumble into the hole, and was ready for use, and then threw open the door before him.

The light in the room was not very bright, but coming out of the darkness Ben could see but little, for a few seconds. The room was thick with the smoke of cigarettes, and through the haze the young captain made out two men standing beside an overturned table, one with a knife in his hand. To his intense surprise the men were Americans and dressed in the uniforms of regulars.

"What does this mean?" he demanded. "What are you--"

And then Ben got no further, for a swift look around the room told him that the two men were alone--that the woman he had heard crying for help was not there.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE ADVENTURE AT THE MILL-HOUSE

For the moment it must be confessed that Ben was absolutely dumfounded, and Major Morris also. They had fully expected to see a woman in the hands of the regulars before them, and they could scarcely believe the evidence of their own senses.

But if the officers were astonished, the men they confronted were likewise taken back, and stared in amazement, which quickly gave way to consternation.