was nearly over,
then they seemed to drift together, as it were, and kept up their
friendship after reaching Manila. Benton was not his real name, and he
was not a graduate of any American college. He had been educated abroad
and spoke French and German. No, they did not know what university he
attended. He was frank and pleasant so long as nobody tried to probe
into his past; never heard him mention Lieutenant Stuyvesant. All three
of them, Benton, Clarke, and Hunter, had observed that young officer
during the month as he drove by barracks, sometimes with the general,
sometimes alone, but they did not know his name, and nothing indicated
that Benton had any feeling against him or that he had seen him. They
admitted having conveyed the idea to comrades that they knew more about
Benton than they would tell, but it was a "bluff." Everybody was full of
speculation and curiosity, and--well, just for the fun of the thing,
they "let on," as they said, that they were in his confidence, but they
weren't, leastwise to any extent. They knew he had money, knew he went
off by himself, and warned him to keep a look out or he'd be held up and
robbed some night.

The only thing of any importance they had to tell was that one day, just
before his misfortune, Benton was on guard and posted as sentry over the
big Krupps in the Spanish battery at the west end of the Calle San Luis.
Clarke and Hunter had a kodak between them and a consuming desire to
photograph those guns. The sentries previously posted there refused to
let them come upon the parapet,--said it was "'gainst orders." Benton
said that unless positive orders were given to him to that effect, he
would not interfere. So they got a pass on the same day and Benton
easily got that post,--men didn't usually want it, it was such a
bother,--but, unluckily, with the post Benton got the very orders they
dreaded. So when they would have made the attempt he had to say, "No."
They came away crestfallen, and stumbled on two sailor-looking men who,
from the shelter of a heavy stone revetment wall, were peering with odd
excitement of manner at Benton, who was again marching up and down his
narrow post, a very soldierly figure.

"That young feller drove you back, did he?" inquired one of them, a
burly, thick-set, hulking man of middle height. "Puttin' on considerable
airs, ain't he? What's he belong to?"

"--th Infantry," answered Clarke shortly, not liking the stranger's
looks, words, or