th a grim sort of a smile. And he turned away to
overlook the shipping of some ammunition on one of the tinclad
gunboats which was to form part of the expedition.

The troops were speedily on the cascos, which were to be towed by
several steam launches and escorted by three tinclads. Although Larry
and his friends did not know it till several hours later, the
destination was Santa Cruz, a pretty town, situated on a slight hill
overlooking the placid waters of the Laguna de Bay. The general's plan
was to reach the lake by nightfall, and steal over the silent waters
in the dark until the vicinity of Santa Cruz was gained, in hopes that
the garrison might be caught "napping," as it is called.

For the time being the sailors were separated one from another, each
being put in charge of a casco, the shallow rowboats being joined
together in strings of four to six each, and pulled along with many a
jerk and twist by the puffing little launches, which at times came
almost to a standstill.

"We won't reach the lake by sunrise, and I know it," remarked one of
the soldiers to Larry, who stood in the bow of the casco with an oar,
ready to do whatever seemed best for the craft. "We've a good many
miles to go yet."

At that instant the casco ahead ran aground in the shallow river, and
Larry had all he could do to keep his craft from running into it. As
the two boats came stem to stern one of the soldiers in the craft
ahead called out to those behind:--

"Say, Idaho, do you know where we are bound?"

"Bound for Santa Cruz, so I heard our captain remark," answered one of
the soldiers in Larry's boat. "Got any tobacco, North Dakota?"

"Nary a pipeful, wuss luck," was the response; and then the line
straightened out as the casco ahead cleared herself from the mud, and
the two boats moved apart once more.

"Are we really going to Santa Cruz?" questioned Larry, as soon as he
got the chance. "I thought we were bound for the north shore of the
lake."

"I can only tell you what I heard the captain say," answered the
soldier, with a shrug of his shoulder. "General Lawton ain't blowing
his plans through a trumpet, you know."

"I hope we do go to Santa Cruz," mused Larry, as he thought of what
had been said of Benedicto Lupez. "And if we take the town I hope we
take that rascal, too."

The best laid plans are often upset by incidents trifling in
themselves. It was the dry season of the year, and the Pasig River,
usually broad and