of smoke and flying fragments, which was almost suffocating.

Oh! what a strange feeling influences the soldier when he hears the
first "Boom" of a cannon, for full well he knows that it is only a
stepping stone leading to the midst of the fray.

The natives returned the fire slowly but steadily, and in a manner that
was creditable, for they were not only taken by surprise but were at a
critical disadvantage owing to the elevation. Still the firing kept up
and more than one dark-skinned foeman could be seen falling, rifle in
hand, lifeless on the green sward.

They were now growing confused, ungovernable, and were firing recklessly
like savage maniacs at the unflinching column of brave American
soldiers, who were cooly aiming and firing at the commands of the
valiant officers whenever a well directed shot was to be had. It now
appeared evident that before this rain of bullets from the Infantry and
the bursting of shrapnel from the Artillery they could not withstand
much longer, and our position was such that to hit us at such a range
and elevation was almost impossible.

Again the Battery opened up with one last and mighty sheet of solid shot
and shrapnel, which made the very walls tremble and shake like the
leaves of a forest before a hurricane, and then deathlike shrieks could
be heard from within, the stout walls had crumbled to a thousand atoms,
and the Sultan of Bayubao, with many of his tribesmen, had fallen to
rise no more.

IN SIGHT OF MACIU.

But was this to be our last battle with the Moros? Was this to be our
last fight in the desolate island of Mindanao? No! No! far from it.
There yet remained another, and the stumbling block of them all, who was
at this time bidding defiance to all invaders, in his fort across the
lake, where we could see, from our present position, the red flags of
battle waving before the gentle zephyrs of the orient.

This was the Sultan of Maciu, Maciu the warlike, who had hitherto held
his stronghold and expansive territories with creditable success for
centuries against even the haughty Spanish soldiers. But his day of
gloom was fast approaching, when he and his clan of bolomen would be
compelled to submit to the sons of America, as will be seen by the
ensuing pages.

Soon after Fort Bayubao had been taken the column pressed onwards, down
the rugged slope of the trail, leading into the fort, and here, being
dust-stained, weary, and footsore, we were glad to encamp for the n