f the voice of war; he knew it to
be the opening peal of the awakening insurrection and his attention
turned to the more serious matter of the imminent conflict. A more
powerful enemy than his late foe menaced him from all sides.

CHAPTER III.

THE INSURRECTION.

The report of a rifle rang down the quiet Santa Mesa hill on the night
of February 4th. As the flash of the gun died away in the gloom a dusky
warrior fell in death and the spark of an insurrection kindled into
flame. Almost instantly the belligerent Tagalans rushed down upon the
American outposts; the United States forces from Caloocan to Malate
swung into line, and the sturdy Anglo-Saxon and the fiery Malay were
matched in combat.

The violent clash caused no look of surprise to flutter across the faces
of the American soldiers; all knew that the outbreak was coming, all had
waited with expectant excitement for the impending conflict. To the
intoxicated native victory against the Spanish seemed too certain to be
wrested from him by the conquering American; he had long smarted under
the goading reflection that "the wreath of the conquerer" had been
snatched away at the moment when it seemed almost within his grasp. This
bitter knowledge irritated and maddened him, until he only awaited an
opportunity to spring at the throat of his imaginary foe and wrench from
him what he considered his own. He remembered the long years of
wretchedness under Spanish tyranny and oppression. He suspected that his
new masters would prove even more overbearing than his late persecutors.
He had not forgotten the daring rush for liberty which his ancestors had
made. Their blood coursed through his veins and he determined that he
would not relinquish the struggle without one last bold dash for the
coveted goal.

It was not alone a love for liberty which spurred onward the dark horde
which followed the red banner of Aguinaldo. Since 1896 they had striven
with their ancient enemy, with the hope that they might tear from him
all his wealth. Their leader had with subtle diplomacy urged on his wary
braves with the thought that when they battered down the walls of Manila
all that it contained would be theirs to loot and ravage. They loved
liberty, but they loved the gold which it would bring still more. So
they looked with hungry eyes when they saw the Americano enter the city
of their dreams and close the gate against the black hosts who sought
entrance to plunder and steal.