ning, Ben holding up a new handkerchief as he walked. The rebel at
once halted, as if expecting them to come over to where he stood.

"You come over here!" cried Gilbert, and waved his hand.

There was a full minute's delay, and then of a sudden the rebel threw
down his white flag and sped toward the house. At the same time three
reports rang out, and Gilbert fell back, struck in the shoulder.

"What did I tell you!" he gasped. "They are treacherous to the last
degree!" And then the young Southerner fainted.

As just mentioned, three reports had rung out, but only two had come
from the house. The third came from Ralph Sorrel's weapon, and the man
who had carried the pretended flag of truce fell dead in his tracks.

The dastardly attack angered Ben beyond endurance, and leaving Gilbert
resting comfortably on some cut cane, he leaped to the front. "Come,
boys, we will root them out!" he cried, and ran on toward the house as
fast as he could, firing as he went. Sorrel was at his heels, and the
others fired, each "red-hot" as they afterward expressed it.

The insurgents saw them coming and fired several shots, but nobody was
struck, and in a trice the house was surrounded. Then Major Morris
came bounding through a window, and it was Ben who cut his bonds with
a pocket-knife.

"I saw it all," exclaimed the major. "Go for them, men, every one of
the rascals deserves death!" And stooping over the dead rebel, he took
from his bosom a bolo and joined in the attack. "They are a pack of
cowards--a mere set of camp followers."

The major was right; the rebels in the house were no regularly
organized body, and at the first sign of real peril they fled by the
back way, over a ditch and straight for the nearest jungle. But our
friends were determined that they should not escape thus easily, and
pursued them for nearly half a mile, killing one more and wounding
three others. Long afterward they learned that those who had thus
forfeited their lives were bandits from the mountains back of San
Isidro. They had joined the forces under General Aguinaldo, merely for
the booty to be picked up in the towns through which the rebel army
passed.

As soon as the contest had come to an end, Ben hurried back to where
he had left Gilbert. The wound from which the young Southerner was
suffering was painful, but not dangerous. Yet it was likely to put
Gilbert in the hospital for the best part of a month.

"It's too bad--I thought I could see