his relaxed muscles as the Sergeant burst into the
room.

A patrol had succeeded! They had learned from Bogobos that during the
afternoon a number of unknown armed natives had gathered in the three
deserted shacks near Sears' ford. Malabanan and Sakay were riding
westward toward Sears' plantation. On the way in the patrol had
encountered Matak riding hard on Malabanan's trail!

CHAPTER XI

INTO THE FORBIDDEN HILLS

Terry's two black pistols, canteen and packed saddle bags lay on the
table. Without a word he snapped holster and canteen into his belt
holes and the Sergeant picked up the bags and extra gun. As he blew
out the light Terry first realized that dawn had come. They hurried
silently to the cuartel, in front of which the sixteen impatient
Macabebes were drawn up, each equipped for the field and holding
saddled ponies. As he drank the coffee that the thoughtful Mercado had
prepared for him Terry gestured questioningly toward the ponies.

"I knew you would want to travel fast, sir, so I borrowed these ponies
from planters. They are very angry about the ladrones, sir, and were
glad to help." He found ample reward for his foresight in Terry's
unspoken commendation.

Several brown heads appeared at windows to stare after the little
cavalcade that trotted down the side of the plaza at daylight and took
the west trail into the brush. It was not a smart outfit, it lacked
all of the flourish and the trappings of parade, but it did look eager
to use the carbines that flapped from pommel straps. Terry's compact
gray set the pace for the dauntless men who rode behind him, and the
Sergeant brought up the rear snapping sharp-voiced invectives that
withered three over-zealous riders.

A long trail lay before them. Terry maintained a steady trot that ate
up the miles. The day grew hot, the brush thicker. Twice he halted the
column to water the ponies at shallow fords: once he stopped to smooth
saddle blankets and resaddle.

He felt the heat intensely. His skin seemed dry and hot, and he
slanted his campaign hat low over his eyes to dim the glare of the sun
and relieve the strain on his eyeballs, which ached fiercely. His
pony, having worked off its excess of spirit, settled down into a
tireless pace that tested the picked mounts the planters had selected
as their best, and the miles passed in silence save for staccato
pounding of hoofs on hard packed earth and the swish of underbrush
that lined the narrow cro