Prescott.

As one man they swung, and their feet were in motion. At the head of the
line marched acting First Sergeant Overton, setting a stiff pace.

For an instant Prescott stood still, eying his men as they swept by.
Then he ran to the head of the line, falling in beside the young
sergeant.

They were off on the Flag's business!

CHAPTER X

THE INSULT TO THE FLAG

It was a deserted road over which the detachment marched.

When there is fighting in Mindanao, and troops are scurrying along the
roads, those inhabitants who are non-combatants keep within their
doors--at all events, they remain out of sight. It is as though every
native feared to be shot as a possible rebel.

But Uncle Sam's troops have no quarrel with men and women following
peaceful occupations. If these brown natives understood our people
better they would not scurry to cover when the khaki-clad men are
passing on fighting bent.

For three miles, or until Bantoc was left well behind, the quick time
continued. Then the young lieutenant decided that it would be necessary
to slacken the pace for a while. Soldiers must not only reach their
destination as early as possible; they must also be fit for fighting on
arrival.

It was not difficult to find the way. An almost straight road led out to
the Seaforth plantation. Lieutenant Prescott had a map of the country
for use in case he found it necessary.

Twice on the way the men halted, for five minutes each time.

Then, about eight miles out, they came upon outlying scenes of
plantation life. There were broad fields, rich with crops, but to-day no
laborers were to be seen at work.

Then the main buildings of the Draney plantation were sighted.

About the buildings, too, all was unwontedly quiet. In fact, the main
house was closed and had the air of being in a state of siege.

"Humph!" muttered the young lieutenant to the boyish sergeant. "If all
we hear about Draney is true, or even the half of it, he has no need to
fear the Moros."

Just as the detachment was passing opposite the main building the front
door opened, and Draney, bearing a rifle in the hollow of his left arm,
hastened out, holding up his right hand.

"Detachment halt!" commanded Prescott in a wearied tone. Then the young
commanding officer stepped rapidly toward the planter.

"Well, Mr. Draney, what is it?" Prescott inquired.

"I'm thankful you've come, Prescott."

"Mr. Prescott, if you please," interposed the