e ranks of those who defended the datto.

Lieutenant Holmes had gotten the wounded inside the walls. Now, with
his efficient men he had turned to guard the gate, for outside, hundreds
of frantically-yelling Moro fanatics had gathered for the attack on the
invaders.

Into the closely packed ranks of the brown men who sought to defend the
datto's house the Gatling poured its raking fire with fearful effect.

Whatever the issue of this madly fought battle, it began to look as
though the Datto Hakkut were doomed.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

"Have your men fix their bayonets, Lieutenant Prescott!" commanded
Captain Freeman. "Fall in, men! We'll take the datto on the rush!"

As the Moros, reinforced by two score more who had rushed to the aid of
their leader, drew up for a last desperate stand before the house, the
door opened.

A stream of light from inside illuminated the scene.

Out bounded a man past middle age and of imposing appearance. Not even
his rich costume and flashing jewels were needed to proclaim that this
man was the datto himself.

Behind Hakkut came another and younger man, the datto's sword-bearer.

Hakkut was carrying his own heavy, straight-edged sword. For a moment or
two he stood blinking upon the scene of carnage and death below him as
he halted on his porch. Then his gaze swept to the regulars behind the
machine gun, standing alert with bayonets fixed, ready for that solitary
word "charge!"

Instantly the datto turned and shouted something to the younger man with
him.

In another moment the datto had placed the hilt of his sword against the
flooring of the porch, the point of the weapon up. The younger man knelt
swiftly, holding the sword in this position. Drawing back, the Datto
Hakkut hurled himself forward with great force, falling upon the point.
Then he tottered sideways, tumbling to the floor of the porch. The
younger man without hesitation drove a needle-pointed creese three times
into his ruler's breast. Withdrawing the knife, the sword-bearer then
killed himself.

"Charge, Lieutenant Prescott!" called Captain Freeman.

"Charge!" repeated the lieutenant. The line of bayonets swept forward,
but news of the death of the datto had already reached his would-be
defenders. The regulars swept through, meeting little resistance, for
hope had left the Moros with the passing of their savage prince.

In a twinkling the datto's house was in the hands of the regulars. Now a
corp