"Shot?" cried Walter. "But they didn't carry the order into execution."
"They came pretty close to do it, lad. We were lined up and blindfolded and told to get ready to die. But just as the detail was on the point of firing, the Spaniard came rushing up and said it was not to be—that the execution was to be delayed. Then we were marched off, through mud and water, and over the rocks, to San Isidro, the rebel capital, where we were placed in prison, under a certain General Tiño, the roughest old dog of a rebel I ever clapped eyes on."
"While you were at San Isidro, did you see Aguinaldo?" asked Walter, more interested than ever.
"I saw him once and tried to speak to him, but he wouldn't listen to me nor to anybody else. Our troops were pressing him hard, and I reckon he was getting ready to leave for parts unknown. We were kept at San Isidro for several days, and then we started with part of the rebel army for Vigan, which we reached four weeks later, ragged, footsore, and half starved, as you see me now. Oh, but we suffered, how much no outsider will ever realize. More than once I wished I was dead."
