tant's treachery or disobedience of my
orders."

Tomba spoke to them rapidly, partly in the Tagalo and partly in the Moro
dialect. Sergeant Hal listened, watched, waited in keen anxiety, for
life and death hung on the issue.

CHAPTER VII

THE KIND OF MAN WHO MASTERS OTHERS

Every one of the eight sullen fellows stood as though rooted in his
tracks.

While Tomba spoke none answered, but many baleful glances were cast at
Sergeant Hal Overton of the Thirty-fourth Infantry.

When Tomba had ceased speaking two or three of the rascals spoke,
slowly, briefly.

"What do the scoundrels say?" demanded the Army boy.

"They do not like the situation, senor."

"Can you blame them? Or can they help the situation in the new turn that
it has taken?"

The Filipino shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, ask the brown pirates what they intend to do?"

Tomba spoke as though translating the question into the two tongues that
these surly fellows understood.

"They say that they do not know," replied Vicente Tomba presently.

"Can't make up their minds, eh?" jeered Hal. "Then I'll form their
decisions for them. There's a further way out of this place?"

Vicente Tomba hesitated, muttering.

"Now, don't you try my old trick of trying to gain time," warned the
boyish sergeant crisply. "I know all about that little trick and I don't
intend to put up with it in the enemy. Tomba, tell your fellows to open
the way out of here, and to get out as quickly as they know how. Tell
them that, as soon as you stop talking, I'm going to begin to count ten
in English, and that the instant I count ten I shall drive this creese
deep into the back of your neck. Tell them that I know how to handle a
weapon like this, and that I'll finish you with one blow."

As he spoke, Sergeant Hal dropped the lantern that he had been holding
with his left hand. It fell with a crash, and the light went out, but he
needed it no longer, for there were two other lighted lanterns in the
room.

"Go on, Tomba! Tell them just what I told you to say. Be sure you get it
straight, too. Remember how much hangs in the balance for you!"

Tomba began speaking, his voice wonderfully steady. Sergeant Hal could
not help admiring the evident courage of this little Filipino, who knew
well enough that his life was hanging on a thread from second to second.

Hal's left hand now rested tightly on the little brown man's shoulder.
Tomba's body was no slight protection against