talked rapidly for a few minutes, disclosing
the plan that was slated to best his majesty, a smile broke over the
weather-beaten features of the sergeant, and he slapped his thighs
in appreciation.

"Well, sir, we can try it, and if it does work, headquarters will
flood you with thanks; if it fails, and I warn you it might, you will
be cut into hash either by the sultan or the war department." This
was good advice from the old soldier.

"I know it, Sergeant, but I am going to take the risk if you are with
me." The enthusiastic young man dashed out of the tent to make the
necessary preparations for the great event.

Christmas morning dawned sultry and heavy. The mist lifted after
reveille and the troops were astonished that the _Sabah_ had
disappeared. Their surprise was greater to find a corporal in charge
of the camp. There was a positive order that no trooper should enter
the barrio, and an air of mystery hung over the whole camp. Where
was the gunboat, the lieutenant, the sergeant, and the interpreter,
Piang? The corporal shook his head to all these questions.

Suddenly rapid firing was heard in the direction of the barrio,
and every soldier seized his gun and ran into the company streets,
but the corporal, calm and undisturbed, dismissed them.

Nervously the men wandered about; the two wounded men became the center
of attraction and related for the hundredth time their sensations
when the juramentado had struck them down. They were not seriously
wounded, but the cruel cuts were displayed, and they did not prove
an antidote to the tenseness of the situation.

The firing had ceased after about ten minutes, and new sounds took
its place: wails and shrieks, the crackling of bamboo, told the story
of the burning village. But who had attacked the town? The corporal
smiled to himself, quietly.

Cheerily a whistle rang out, sending the men running to the beach;
there was the _Sabah_, tripping jauntily through the water toward
her recent mooring-place, and on her deck, smiling and waving, were
the missing men.

"Merry Christmas," Lewis greeted the men, as he walked down the
company street. Stopping at the cook's tent, he inquired what there
was for dinner.

"Beans, bacon, and hardbread," was the reply.

"Tough menu for Christmas, eh, cook?"

Since their arrival, every turkey and duck had disappeared, and the
barrio offered nothing to enhance their limited ration. It was an
old trick; the natives objected