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
