At this threat, a deep groan was heard to come from somewhere back in the recesses of the chancel. The men were startled. Involuntarily, the boy cast a furtive glance in that direction. Connell noticed it, and leaving the boy with Bansemer, hurried away and soon was looking down into the face of a prostrate man, young, but aged with emaciation.
"You must not touch him! Don't you see that he is dying?" cried the boy piteously in broken English. "He cannot fight you--he's dying;" and then, in a perfect frenzy of rage to Bansemer: "Let me go--pig!"
Not until afterwards did Bansemer recall that in the general excitement it was the boy who dragged him along to the spot. And in spite of the solemnity of the scene, there was something in his manner of delivering the insult that amused rather than angered the American.
"Plucky little devil!" he said, half-aloud.
Again the sick man groaned, tried to rise from the blankets and speak, but only to fall back moaning. Connell cautioned him against exertion and promised that no harm should come to either of them. While he reported the discovery to Captain Groce, he had the man carried to another part of the church and there made comfortable. For the first time now, Bansemer began to notice the pain in his arm. Somewhat angrily, he turned to the boy: "Come! Give an account of yourself! How came you here?"
"Prisoners," was the sullen answer.
"Of the Filipinos?" Bansemer asked, in surprise.
"Yes."
"Then why did you try to kill me?"
"I hate you both! We Spaniards, have we not as much to fear from you? What difference does colour make in brutes?"
"By the holy apostles! you're a gritty, young 'un!" growled the returning sergeant. "Who's the other chap?"
"My brother--he's dying," said the boy, his voice softening. "Holy Virgin, save him! For weeks, we've been in the hands of Aguinaldo's men. He's been so ill, all the time; have you a doctor?"
"A surgeon will probably be with us before long," was the sergeant's evasive reply.
Bansemer looked searchingly at Connell. What he saw in the other's eyes caused him a sharp pang of grief. Both men turned their faces away for a moment and it was with a gulp that Connell continued: "Your brother will have the best of care if we get out of this mess. You are both safe. We are not fighting the Spaniards;" and then, pertinently: "So these were Aguinaldo's men?"
"Yes, he was here directing the fight," the boy answered.
"Aguinaldo here!" This and other ejaculations of surprise and anger burst in chorus from every throat; but as suddenly they were followed by expressions of chagrin. For, by contrasting the present situation with that which they had anticipated, this information had succeeded in intensifying their mortification.