dividing the northern portion of Luzon from the southern. Here they travelled through a pass where there was a well-defined trail running to a mountain torrent which empties itself into Lingayen Gulf, a deep indentation on the western shore of the island. Rounding a wall of rocks, Walter saw a sight which nearly caused his heart to stop beating.
"Look, Si! White people!" he gasped. "Americans at last! Thank God!"
"Americans, sure enough!" burst from the Yankee lad. "We're lucky, after all, ain't we?"
"So we are. I see two men. How many do you see?"
"Three—no, four. They are coming this way."
"There are some natives with them," went on Walter, his face taking a drop. "Natives with rifles! And the Americans are not armed! What can that mean?"
"By ginger, Walter, it means that those American soldiers are prisoners!"
"Oh, Si, impossible!"
"No, 'tain't! See, the men are tied together in pairs. They are prisoners, as true as you're born. Here's a how d'ye do!"
Si was right; the Americans approaching were
