ed until his
teeth chattered. He did not propose, however, to let personal discomfort
stop him from earning a fare.

Around the Walled City (Old Manila) the _quilez_ carried the young
soldiers. These massive walls, centuries old, enclose perhaps a square
mile of city. Once past the Walled City the little vehicle glided on
through pretty Ermita. Here, passing along Calle Real (Royal Street),
the driver turned into the straight stretch for the next suburb, Malate.

For months before sailing for the Philippines both young sergeants had
devoted a good deal of their spare time to the study of Spanish. They
had, however, learned the best Spanish of old Castile. First Sergeant
Gray, who had put in three terms of service in the Philippines, had
taken pains to teach them much of the local Spanish dialect as it is
spoken in this far-away colony of Uncle Sam's.

To-day the Filipino children speak English rather well and musically,
for English is the language of the public schools of the islands. Many
of the older natives, however, even those with English-speaking
children, know only a few words at most of the tongue of the
_Americanos_.

By the time that the little cab turned in at the barracks grounds much
of the fury of the storm had passed. The rain, however, continued at a
steady downpour, and seemed good for the night.

"We may have to be campaigning in this kind of weather in another
fortnight," remarked Hal.

"Fine business," commented Noll dryly.

"Well, it all goes in the life of a soldier. It can't hurt the soldier
much, either, for somehow he's healthier than fellows who clerk or work
in machine shops."

"Clerking? Shops?" repeated Noll, with a smile of mild disgust. "Did we
ever stand that sort of life, Hal?"

"Once upon a time, Noll."

"Thank goodness that day has gone by."

"Here we are," announced Sergeant Hal, reaching for the rear door and
opening it. "I'll pay the _cochero_ this time, Noll; you paid for our
last ride."

On the broad veranda of the barracks, well out of the rain, lounged half
a hundred of the men of the Thirty-fourth. A few of them were at tables
writing home letters.

"Did you give my regards to the Escolta, Sergeant?" called Private
Kelly, from one of the groups.

"I didn't forget you, Kelly," laughed Hal.

"Get those picture post cards for me?" called Corporal Hyman.

"Here you are, Hyman," responded Noll, opening his blouse and exploring
an inner pocket. "I hope I haven't