Page:Weird Tales Volume 7 Number 4 (1926-04).djvu/23



HE sentry guarding my quarters called my attention to the great clouds of smoke that had suddenly appeared on the horizon in the direction of Suay, a few miles west of Ilog, Island of Negros, where I commanded a platoon of Filipinos. I was coming in from early morning target practise, and my field-glasses were in my hand. One look was enough. Suay was in flames. Twenty minutes later I was on my way with fifty soldiers, marking a trail with a streak, of puddles and mud six inches deep. By noon we had reached Suay, marked by piles of fluffy white ashes where once stood homes of bamboo and nipa.

Rufo, the famous bandit chief of the island, had struck where least expected. I was three hours behind him. A few of the villagers had already returned and like dumb animals silently watched the whirlwinds of ash and smoke.

Rufo's band, I learned, had consisted of thirty-five men, armed with bolos, two rifles and three fowling pieces. During their visit of three hours, they had killed fifteen natives and four Chinese, and wounded a score more. The five Chinese stores had been sacked and burned and the ninety shacks of the village fired.

The villagers appeared reluctant to speak of the calamity that had befallen them. Rufo had warned them against informing the authorities. As no information could be obtained from the people as to the whereabouts of the marauders, there was nothing left cor me to do but to return to my station.

I began to wonder what my captain would say to me if he happened along, as he surely would. The Island of Negros had had no outbreak for almost a year. It was ill luck that Rufo should strike so near my station. Panic seized me. My only thought was to avoid the captain.

After a sleepless night I was off at daybreak, no particular place in view except a mountain pass twenty miles inland. As my real objective was to avoid my captain, I marched leisurely. At 11 I halted for lunch. Leaving fifteen of my men at our resting place, with five I started out to examine the trails for fresh footprints and a clue. After an hour we came to a fork; both branches had been equally well traveled, but in the left branch I noticed a piece of clean white string, which proved to be the end of a ball of yarn that had been trampled into the mud. The robbers hurrying through at night had lost a piece Of loot.

We followed the trail cautiously for an hour without success. It had long been my custom never to stop to rest in an enemy's trail but to draw off to the side. We had no sooner settled when we heard talking and laughter from the direction in which we had been going. We waited breathlessly while five bandits rounded the bend. Two carried rifles, others baskets of loot, which I later