Before Ben could look around him, he was hurried along the trail leading to the lake shore. Here there had been a large Filipino encampment, but all the soldiers were now either at the front or in full retreat. He had a rebel at each side of him, the pair holding on to the rope which bound his hands behind him. Each rebel had a gun slung over his shoulder, and looked like a fairly good fighter, even though barefooted and in tatters.
"Where are you going to take me?" asked the young captain, as they hurried along. But neither would answer the question, even if he understood it, which was doubtful, and both only grinned wickedly and trotted him on faster than ever.
All the while they were running Ben was working at his wrists, and presently, as they came to a patch of woods, he was delighted to find that his right hand could be slipped from its fastening.
"Now or never!" he thought, and watching his opportunity, he gave the guard on his right a tremendous shove which pitched the Tagal headlong over a tree root. Then he leaped at the other fellow, snatching for the rifle as he did so. The Mauser fell to the ground, and the Tagal on top of it. Before he could get up, the young captain bowled him over
