wiftness: "Well--say something! What are you going to do about this?
Going to clean out the Hills? Or are you going to let--" he stormed on
and on, checking the flow at last to press his hospitality upon the
Major.

"Thanks, Medico, but I'll just sling my bag in Terry's house and sleep
there to-night: and I can eat at the Club."

The doctor accompanied him as far as Terry's old quarters and passed
on to his own house farther down the street. Matak, gloomy and
wordless, relieved the Major of his bag at the door. The house was
silent, and darkened by drawn pearl-shell shutters. The Major stood a
moment at the doorway, half sickened by the unused appearance of the
familiar cane chairs, table, desk, and bookcases, then he followed
Matak into the bedroom he had used before. He cleaned up and changed
to whites, and when he came out Matak had thrown the windows wide to
the afternoon sun. But the house was thick with the uncomfortable
silence that pervades unused, furnished habitations and unable to
endure the room he hurried out and over to the _cuartel_.

The fiery little Macabebes seemed subdued. Mercado blamed himself for
leaving his officer under the circumstances, was bitterly
self-reproachful for not having sent a soldier with him. He went over
the ground carefully but could add nothing but immaterial detail to
what the Major already knew, but the Major remained in the little
office until dark, listening with grim satisfaction to Mercado's
account of the swift retribution that had followed Malabanan's testing
of Constabulary strength.

He excused the Sergeant and sifted through the pile of official and
personal mail which lay in the basket marked "unfinished." Sorting it,
he came across a cablegram addressed to Terry and dated the morning
that Terry had left in pursuit of the brigands.

"From the States, too," he muttered. Moved by an impulse and hardly
conscious of what he did, he folded it twice and placed it in his
purse.

In half an hour he had finished the few reports that must be executed,
and rose to go. Mercado was waiting for him at the door.

"Sir," he said, standing stiffly at attention and watched by a score
of Macabebes who knew his intention to draw the Major out, "we
Macabebes are soldiers, sir--we never question. But if the Major comes
to lead troops up--there, sir, to bury our Lieutenant, it is a
Macabebe task! We loved him, sir."

The big Major looked down at the earnest veteran, touched by th