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The soldiers who had made us prisoners were dark, determined-looking fellows belonging to the Manila Home Guard, a body distinct from the troops sent to the islands from Spain.

They were seven in number, including a lieutenant, who, as I afterward learned, rejoiced in the unique name of Carlos Remondenanez.

"Americanos!" muttered the lieutenant, as he surveyed us. "Where you come from?" he demanded, in by no means bad English.

"We came from Cavité,' I answered, glad to know that he would understand me.

"Sailors from the American warships?"

"We are private citizens, on our way to Ma" Dan checked himself.

"Ha! private citizens! Bah! You Americanos are all out for a fight, like a wild bull! But we will show you, here in Luzon and at Cuba, too! When it is over the pigs will be sorry they took up arms against the sons of my country," and he slapped his chest.

Had the situation been less serious I would