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142 ?" questioned Jeming, after listening vainly for some sound from without. From a distance came a scattering fire, but around the native house was the silence of death, for the man who had been shot by Sorrel had fainted from loss of blood.

"They are up to something, you can be certain of that," answered Ben. "The Filipino is at his worst when he is silent."

"Right ye air, cap'n," put in Sorrel. "Yere she comes agin—an' a scorcher, too!"

From over the bushes came a huge fire-ball, blazing brightly. It struck the thatch of the cottage close to the edge of the roof, and before it fell to the ground had set fire to the abode, which began to burn as though no shower had wet it for a month.

"That settles it!" came from Jeming. "We've got to get out, or we'll be burnt up like rats in a corn-crib."

"But the sergeant—" began Sorrel, when a low moan issued from the corner.

"Never—mind—me, boys," came, with several gasps. "I'm—I'm going! Good—good—bye— to—to— Tell mother—"

He said no more, but fell back exhausted. All