in America, I decided not to carry out my order, but to let you all
go free. I may be punished for disobedience of orders; but we are
both bound together by the great Catholic church, and my conscience
forbids that I should kill you."

Gilmore replied: "You might as well shoot us as to set us free away
up here in the mountains in our weakened condition with nothing to
defend ourselves with against the savages whose territory we will have
to cross in order to get to the sea. Can't you spare us at least two
rifles and some ammunition? If you will do this, I will give you a
letter which, should you fall into the hands of the Americans, will
make you safe and bring you ample reward."

The Filipino looked meditatingly at the ground for several moments,
then he calmly said, "I shall not dare to do it. An American relief
party, seeking your liberation, is close on our heels. They will
protect and care for you. Goodby!"

Gilmore did not believe him.

Under cover of the night the Filipinos disappeared. In the morning,
after nine long, tedious months of captivity resulting from Marie
Sampalit's depredations,--sick, nearly starved, practically nude, with
nothing but two battle axes and a bolo for both weapons of defense
and for tools--the Americans at last found themselves free men in
the wilds of northern Luzon, with positive death left behind, and
with possible life and all of its happy associations still before them.

Their first day of liberty was spent in preparing bamboo rafts on
which to float down the tortuous, winding river to the sea. The next
night they all slept well; and on the following morning, just after
they had gotten up and begun to saunter around, everybody present was
suddenly shocked by the shrill yell of a strong American voice. They
all looked up, and while their hearts for a moment seemingly stopped
beating and fairly rose in their throats, the liberated prisoners
beheld the blue shirts and khaki trousers of Colonel Hare's rescue
party that for several weeks had been on their trail.

What rejoicing! The bony, ill-clad prisoners fell on the strong bosoms
of their rescuers and wept.

Colonel Hare's father, Judge Hare, of Washington, D.C., knew Gilmore
personally. He had seen the military reports of his captivity among
the natives. When his son bade him goodby as he started for the
Philippines, Judge Hare said, "My boy, God bless you; find Gilmore
and bring him home!" Colonel Hare had remained true t