out to be. And it
won't take us over three hours? This is a hard night to get off, as the
packing-up order has been given. I'll see our first sergeant, however,
and find out whether there's any chance of my getting leave for the
evening. If he says so, I can put it by the captain all right. Wait
here, and----"

"I guess it won't be necessary, Corporal Hyman," broke in Hal's voice,
sounding rather cool, for Hal had recognized Hyman's companion--none
other than Vicente Tomba.

"Hello! There you are, Sarge," cried Hyman, while the little Filipino
dandy started, peered at the young sergeants and then scowled.

"I'll try to fix it for you to get a pass to-night, Corporal," Hal went
on, "if you really want one. But I don't exactly believe that you do.
This native gentleman tried to butt in with us this afternoon, and at
first we took it in good part. But he was too eager. Then, a little
later in the afternoon, we heard him denouncing us to a white man
because we weren't eager enough. Corporal, unless you know a lot about
this man, I don't believe you want anything to do with him."

Tomba's face was blazing hotly, while his eyes gleamed angrily at
Sergeant Overton's words.

"If that's the kind of fellow he is, then I don't want a pass to-night,"
Hyman replied. "This little man has just been telling me how much he
loves American _soldados_, and he proposed to get a _quilez_ and take me
over into the city for the time of my life."

"From what happened this afternoon I'm a little shaky on Senor Tomba,"
Hal continued.

"You never saw me before!" cried Tomba, wheeling about on Hal. "Liar!
Thief!"

Hal's reply was prompt, sufficient, military. He delivered a short-arm,
right-hand blow that struck the native in the neck, felling him to the
sidewalk.

But Tomba was up in an instant, and a knife flashed in his hands.

Hal did not flinch. He leaped upon the little brown man, getting a
clinch that held the rascal powerless. Then Noll coolly took away the
knife, striking the blade into the tree trunk and snapping the steel in
two.

"Shall I call the guard, Sergeant, to take this little brown rat?"
demanded Corporal Hyman.

"No; he isn't big enough, or man enough to bother the guard with,"
replied young Sergeant Overton. "I'll take care of him myself."

Whirling the Filipino around, Hal gave him a vigorous start, emphasized
by a kick, and Vicente Tomba slid off into the darkness.

Malay blood is not forgiving. There wer