Page:Under MacArthur in Luzon.djvu/243

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WALTER'S WOUND
215

little mountain torrents. Not even an animal was visible, and even the birds seemed scarce. He was truly alone, utterly alone.

"I must follow him—I can't remain by myself," such was his next thought, and picking up the little provisions they had been carrying he tried to locate the uncertain trail. At that moment he felt he would rather be a prisoner among enemies than by himself.

Less than quarter of a mile was covered and he came to a halt. His strength was gone and he could go no farther. The trail, too, had slipped him, and he was completely turned around and bewildered.

He gazed around again, and looking down the hillside, made out a collection of huts and houses far below, close to the side of a fair-sized stream. Then something of a feeling of joy took possession of him. He was near somebody, somebody—it did not matter whether they were friends or foes. Then of a sudden a dark wave passed before his eyes, followed by a flush as of fire. He staggered, tried to save himself, and then pitched forward on the sward, completely overcome.