B

 
 
 
 Mercedes 
 
 (See page 113)
 
 DANIEL EYERTON 
 
 VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 a "Romance of tbe Philippines 
 
 BY 
 ISRAEL PUTNAM 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BT SEWELL COLLINS 
 
 FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 
 1902
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY 
 FT7NK & WAGNALLS COMPANY 
 
 [REGISTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL, LONDON, ENGLAND] 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 Published April, 1909
 
 Ho flJg Wife 
 
 2137794
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 MM 
 
 MERCEDES . Frontispiece 
 
 "I AM SORRY TO HAVE PUT YOU TO THE INCONVENI- 
 ENCE OF A SECOND CALL," HE SATO ... 88 
 
 DANIEL EVERTON KNEW WHAT THE WRITING OF THE 
 LETTER HAD COST 174 
 
 "WELL?" SHE SAID, QUIETLY; "WHY DON'T YOU 
 GO ON?" . 370
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I BENTTA LLOPIS 
 
 II AT THE CAFE OF SENOR DE LA RAMA . 16 
 
 III JOSE MISPALL PLAYS MONTE ... 31 
 
 IV Two PATRIOTS PLAN A CAMPAIGN . . 52 
 V ONE CASUALTY ...... 62 
 
 VI MARSHALL EVERTON RECEIVES A CALL . 79 
 
 VII A BREACH OF TRUST ..... 100 
 
 VIII MERCEDES ....... Ill 
 
 IX SENOR ISIDRO GIVES A BALL . . . 125 
 
 X THE MACTAVISH BUNGALOW . . .350 
 
 XI THE PRICE OF A REPUTATION . . . 171 
 
 XII MRS. CARTWRIGHT MAKES THE TEA . . 180 
 
 Xin THE ARRIVAL OF THE "!SLA DE TABLAS" . 191 
 
 XIV FORT MALATE ...... 221 
 
 XV AN UNSEEN BARRIER ..... 238 
 
 XVI A SOCIAL VERDICT ...... 257 
 
 XVII PERPLEXITY ....... 275 
 
 XVIII SUNSET ........ 282 
 
 XIX SERGEANT CASSIDY MAKES A DISCOVERY . 299 
 
 XX BENTTA TAKES A. HAND ..... 317 
 vii
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER TITLE PAGE 
 
 XXI COLONEL CARTWRIGHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 326 
 
 XXII NEWS FROM NEQROS 350 
 
 XXIII CONSTANCE 365 
 
 XXIV ON THE SLOPES OF CANALOAN . . . 377 
 XXV MARSHALL EVERTON 393 
 
 XXVI CONCLUSION 405 
 
 viii
 
 DANIEL EFERTON, 
 FOL UNTEER-REG ULAR 
 
 Chapter I 
 BENITA LLOPIS 
 
 T was past four o'clock of a sultry day toward 
 the close of the dry season. The cooling 
 breath of the southwest monsoon, sweeping 
 from Borneo and the islands of the Sulu Sea, had, 
 during the earlier hours of the day, struggled in 
 vain to make headway against the heat of the tropical 
 sun. But now, as the day declined, there was a 
 marked change in the atmosphere. The blistering 
 rays of noon-day removed from the moist earth, it 
 began to cool and the air took on a delicious fresh- 
 ness. 
 
 The afternoon drill was over, and several soldiers 
 had thrown themselves upon the earth in the shade 
 
 of a grove of cocoa-palm trees. From their position 
 
 1
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 they could watch the tiny breakers creep closer with 
 the rising of the tide, and see the sparkling waters of 
 the Straits stretching away to the nigged, moun- 
 tainous coast of Panay. 
 
 The home mail had come in that morning, and 
 most of the men were reading their long-delayed and 
 long-watched-for letters. One of them, however, 
 was diligently perusing the columns of a newspaper 
 two months old. He had no letters. After twelve 
 years in the ranks of the army, a man's correspond- 
 ence is apt to drop off. As he read, his heavy, Irish 
 jaw worked steadily, and from time to time he would 
 glance aside, select some unoffending twig or palm 
 leaf as a target, shower it with tobacco juice, and 
 return to his paper. 
 
 " Ar' you aware, Redder," he asked at length, 
 breaking a silence which had lasted several minutes, 
 " that there's to be no more canteen in th' army ? " 
 
 The one addressed withdrew from his mouth, con- 
 cealed behind a heavy blond beard, the pipe he was 
 smoking, and looked at the speaker with a pair of 
 large blue eyes. His was a mind not over quick at 
 grasping new facts, and for a moment he hesitated. 
 
 " Who said dot ? " he inquired at length. 
 
 "I did. It's here in th' paper. "No more can- 
 teen. They considers it a kayrupter av our morals."
 
 BENITA LLOPIS 
 
 " You haven't got any morals," said Redder, some- 
 what irrelevantly, it must be admitted. " Where's 
 d' beer comin' from if dey don'd hef no gandeen ? " 
 
 " Nowheres, av coorse. That's the p'int. Your 
 to be absint without lave an' dhrink whisky if you 
 must dhrink. But if, after servin' twilve years in 
 th' army, you can abstain taytotally, you'll be per- 
 mitted to go into a tint to be erected on th' Post 
 primises, and play tiddle-de-winks an' drink ginger- 
 beer. That's how th' Young Min's Christian Associa- 
 tion '11 learn you to fear Gawd an' lick th' enemy. 
 It tells all about it in th' paper here." 
 
 "Whosedso?" 
 
 " I say so, you wooden-head, an' so does th' news- 
 paper ! " 
 
 " De baber don'd boss de army, an' neider do you 
 excebd de awkvard squad. Who makes dis fool- 
 ishness ? " 
 
 " Th' Gawd-fearin' taytotallers in Congress, av 
 coorse." 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me sooch a law iss made py 
 men?" 
 
 "I do spurred on an* applauded be th' W. C. 
 T. U. Woman's Childish Timperance Uselessness, 
 I think it stands for." 
 
 Sergeant Redder replaced in his mouth the meer- 
 3
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 schaum pipe to which he still adhered despite the 
 cheapness of the Manila perfectos with which his 
 companions were regaling themselves and smoked 
 silently. He looked out over the waters of the 
 Straits of Guimaras at a parao which was gliding 
 swiftly by, the rays of the setting sun striking its 
 white sails and turning them a claret red. Upon its 
 starboard outrigger stood a picturesque native who 
 had gone out there to ballast the queer craft as it flew 
 rapidly along in the direction of Iloilo. 
 
 " Ah wish ah war on thata thing, goin' back to the 
 States," said a long and lanky private, who hailed 
 from the mountains of Tennessee. 
 
 " Do you indade ? " said Cassidy, laying his news- 
 paper aside and biting a large piece from his plug of 
 tobacco. " An' it's mighty saysick you'd be before 
 you got there. What's more, when you do get home, 
 it'll be the foine warm wither an' th' tuba av' th' 
 Phillipeens you'll be thinkin' av." 
 
 " If dey busd up de gandeen," continued Redder, 
 who had been thinking of the matter in his own 
 thoroughly slow and slowly thorough way, " ve'll 
 haf to drink someding, an' most off de men '11 
 drink diss bino stuff de vimmin sells, vot seds you 
 grazy." 
 
 " Anny wan wud think, Sergeant Redder," said 
 4
 
 BEN IT A LLOPIS 
 
 his friend, " that you knew more about th' army 
 than what th' W. C. T. U. does. They've studied 
 th' subject most thoroughly an' have writ innumera- 
 ble pamflits on it. You couldn't write a pamflit on 
 anything, so you'd better shut up." 
 
 " Vel," said Eedder, " if dey busd up de gandeen 
 dey'll haf trubble, dat's all." 
 
 " An' what do they care, if they do have more 
 min before a Gineral Court-martial? You see th' 
 way they look upon th' matter's like this : They think 
 thot anny man who'd defile hisself wid drinkin' beer 
 in what they calls th' canteen saloon is av no use in 
 th' army. So they sez, ( Let him go to hell his own 
 way,' an' chuck 'im out. What they want in th' 
 army is taytotallers. It ain't your gettin' drunk 
 alone that they kick about; it's your drinkin'. If 
 you so much as tooch a glass av beer, you're a miser- 
 able onclean heathen, an' th' sooner you finish up th' 
 job an' drink yourself t' death th' better." 
 
 " Ah doan' see," said the Tennesseean plaintively, 
 " what right the Congress have got to stop the can- 
 teen thata way." 
 
 " Yer lamintably ignarant av th' laws, thin," re- 
 torted Cassidy, expectorating scornfully. " Congriss 
 cud wipe out th' hull army with a sthroke av its 
 pen if it wanted to." 
 
 5
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Ah wish they would, then. Ah wouldn't kick, 
 fer one." 
 
 " De gandeen's de vun ding vot made life vordth 
 liffin' out en dem Vestern posts," said Kedder, refill- 
 ing his pipe. 
 
 " Ah ! " snorted Cassidy, " they make me tired. 
 They're worse than Christian Scientists." 
 
 " What ah Christian Scientists ? " asked the man 
 from Tennessee. 
 
 " They're more ole wimmin an' some men that be- 
 lieve that when you've a bullet through your bowels, 
 th' only thing the matter wid you is meelankolia." 
 
 " Do you mean dot dey vos grazy ? " inquired Red- 
 der. 
 
 " Oi don't know, I'm sure. I think they must be. 
 I do wish, Redder, that you'd read th' newspapers. 
 Your ignorance is onexcusable." 
 
 " I don'd vont to read aboud sooch damn nonzenze. 
 I'd rader read de drill pook." 
 
 " Oi don't know as I blame you, but there's more 
 in th' papers than Christian Science. I believe in 
 sipparatin' th' wheat from the chaff." 
 
 As Cassidy finished speaking he folded up the 
 paper and put it in his pocket. " What do you think 
 of the news, Everton ? " he asked, addressing one of 
 
 the men who was gazing idly off to sea, his campaign 
 
 6
 
 BEN IT 'A LLOPIS 
 
 hat drawn down well over his bronzed forehead to 
 shade the clear gray eyes. Everton did not hear the 
 question apparently, for he made no reply. A si- 
 lence fell upon the little group, which was broken 
 after a time by the faint notes of a distant bugle 
 call 
 
 " There goes first call," said Cassidy, resignedly. 
 
 " Ah wish it war Gabriel's horn," replied the man 
 from the mountains of Tennessee. 
 
 " That'll come soon enough, never fear," said Cas- 
 sidy, soothingly. " You'd better come on now an' 
 be drilled by thot new lootenant what came in with 
 th' mail this mornin'. If he knows ' fours right ' 
 from ' about face ' I lose my bet. So long, Ever- 
 ton." 
 
 " So long, old man," replied the tall soldier, com- 
 ing out of his reverie as his companions moved away 
 toward the clearing. " See you at supper." 
 
 As the men passed from sight behind a nipa shack, 
 the one who had been addressed as Everton arose 
 and stretched himself luxuriously. Having relieved 
 in a measure by this process the cramped stiffness in 
 his lower limbs, he turned toward the sea and walked 
 out upon the broad, white beach. 
 
 He was the only one of the men who had worn a 
 coat despite the heat of the day, and the brass but- 
 
 7
 
 D4NIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 tons thereof had been polished until they shone. It 
 was apparent that the blouse itself had undergone 
 some alterations since leaving the Quartermaster's 
 Department, the native tailor who lived in a one- 
 room shack behind the old convent, used now as a 
 military barracks, having altered it to fit the well- 
 made frame of the owner. His leggins were new, 
 and he had a neat, well-groomed appearance which 
 was in contrast to most of his company. Cassidy 
 and the others, when off duty, were prone to adopt 
 what the Irishman called " the real field uniform of 
 the United States a blue shirt, canvas pants, and 
 shoes, if ye have them." 
 
 It only was in this scrupulous exactness about his 
 dress that Daniel Everton had shown to his comrades 
 during the two years he had spent among them, 
 that he had come into the ranks from a different 
 world than theirs. He was a good soldier, and this 
 had been his passport to their confidence and esteem. 
 For the rest, it mattered little whether or not he was 
 what the world ambiguously calls a gentleman he 
 was Private Everton to them, until by dint of merit 
 alone he became Sergeant Everton. The military 
 world is an ideal social world in certain respects. In 
 it a general is no more and no less than a general, 
 a corporal no more and no less than a corporal. The 
 
 8
 
 BENITA LLOPIS 
 
 position of each is fixed by his commission or war- 
 rant, as the case may be, and that settles the matter. 
 
 Everton turned southward and walked along the 
 beach. The sun had set, and above the violet, 
 dreamy outline of the Panay shore hung great banks 
 of mackerel clouds, their lower edges a splendid 
 crimson; their crests a soft opal fading away into a 
 sky of Prussian blue, across which the summer light- 
 ning played constantly. 
 
 Northern sunsets suggest tenderness; those of the 
 tropics passion. During the two long and weary 
 years which he had spent amidst uncongenial sur- 
 roundings his appreciation of the beautiful in nature 
 had been a great compensation to this young soldier, 
 making up to him in no small degree for the lack of 
 those other resources which he had had before his 
 enlistment. 
 
 He sat upon an overturned parao, looking out 
 across the waters, which had changed their blue for 
 the gorgeous coloring of the sky, and puffing lazily 
 at the cigar which he had lighted. The whole world 
 seemed to have been touched and glorified by the 
 brush of the Great Artist. Even the bamboo huts 
 of the fishermen, dirty and commonplace as they 
 were by the full light of day, had absorbed in a 
 
 measure the soft coloring of the sea and sky, 
 
 9
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 which fell like a mist upon the low shore, bringing 
 out the clusters of orange-colored cocoanuts against 
 the green background of the waving palms. 
 
 As he sat there he heard the shrill scream of a 
 woman, and turning, beheld a grotesquely pathetic 
 little tableau. 
 
 A few yards from where he sat a small river flowed 
 into the sea. Upon its banks were tall clumps of 
 bamboo brake, in which the wild pigeon, settling for 
 the night, cooed softly. Banana and dwarf palm 
 trees crowded each other about their bases in luxu- 
 riant profusion, and in the rear the forest of cocoa 
 trees stretched away inland toward the town. The 
 light was fading rapidly, and the little group of 
 women who had been washing their clothes beside 
 the stream, and had gathered them up into wet 
 heaps, were transferring them to their owners 7 
 baskets. 
 
 There was one man in the party; a short, black 
 native with a round head and massive shoulders. A 
 dispute had apparently arisen between him and one 
 of the women as to the ownership of a dilapidated 
 old shirt. Each had a firm grip upon it, and in the 
 tug-of-war which ensued it seemed as though a divi- 
 sion of the garment was inevitable. The woman 
 was old, toothless, and very ugly, and as she strug- 
 
 10
 
 BEN IT A LLOPIS 
 
 gled to wrest the shirt from the man's grasp she 
 abused him shrilly. 
 
 Everton watched the little tableau with amuse- 
 ment, until the man, incensed by the taunts of the 
 other women, gave way to his passion, and raising a 
 clenched fist struck his adversary across the mouth. 
 At this the others, who had shown no disposition to 
 take sides before, being content to urge both on with 
 good-humored derision, were savagely indignant. 
 They crowded around the man and heaped upon his 
 head a veritable torrent of abuse. What would be 
 but a gentle shower of abuse in any civilized lan- 
 guage, became a torrent when poured forth in the 
 harsh, uncouth dialect of the Bisayas. A dozen thin, 
 brown arms were stretched forth to interfere, when 
 Everton, stepping quickly into the center of the 
 group and grasping the native by the back of the 
 neck with one hand, wrenched the shirt from his 
 grasp with the other. 
 
 " You brute ! " said the American, as he shook him. 
 
 The native wriggled from his grasp with the agil- 
 ity of a reptile, and drawing from beneath his flow- 
 ing white shirt a short knife, made a lunge at the 
 soldier's chest. Everton easily caught the uplifted 
 arm, and gave it a twist which caused his opponent 
 to drop the knife with a sharp cry of pain. 
 
 11
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 A cackle of laughter ran around the circle of old 
 crones at this, and when he had shaken off the sol- 
 dier's arm the native turned and ran swiftly across 
 the shallow river, jumping from stone to stone. 
 Everton made no effort to follow him, but stood 
 watching the lithe figure as it gained the opposite 
 bank and disappeared among the trees. 
 
 " Runs better than he fights," was the soldier's 
 mental comment as he stooped and picked up his late 
 adversary's knife. It was a very pretty specimen, 
 with a handle made from the horn of a cariboo and 
 quaintly carved. He slipped it into his belt, and 
 turned to find that the women were hoisting their 
 baskets upon their heads and moving off toward 
 the village. A few of the younger ones ventured 
 a bright glance of admiration at the victor in the 
 recent struggle as they raised their gayly-colored 
 skirts and waded across the shallow river, picking 
 their way gingerly along its pebbly bottom, and so 
 affording him a glimpse of their pretty ankles. At 
 last all were gone except the old woman who had 
 figured as the heroine in the little affair, and who 
 lingered as though wanting to speak to her protector. 
 He drew a peseta from his pocket and tossed it to her, 
 saying in Spanish : " Cheer up, you are all right 
 
 now." 
 
 13
 
 BEN IT A LLOPIS 
 
 To his surprise, she did not clutch at the coin as 
 he had expected her to do, but let it lie on the sand 
 where it fell, and throwing herself at his feet clasped 
 his knees with her bony arms. She caught one of 
 his brown hands, and drawing it to her emaciated 
 breast kissed it, wetting it with her tears. 
 
 Everton was one of those men who dislike being 
 thanked for a kind act as much as they like to render 
 one. A dark flush crept up behind his bronzed skin, 
 and he drew back hastily. 
 
 " Don't do that," he said. Then, stooping, he 
 helped her to her feet. For a moment they stood 
 facing each other, while the brilliant, vivid tints in 
 the west faded to a dull red. A strange destiny had 
 brought these two together, and, could he have known 
 the importance this meeting was destined to assume 
 in his life, he would have shrunk from her appalled. 
 As it was, he saw only what appeared to him to be 
 the ugliest human being he had ever beheld. 
 
 She was indeed ugly. There is nothing more so 
 than an old woman of one of the Southern races, 
 which age young. ^ As she stood there, the tears 
 streaming down her leathery brown cheeks, she made 
 a pitiable example of what the weaker sex can come 
 to be in old age, when years of manual labor have 
 been added to the other and harder burdens which 
 
 13
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 fall to a woman's lot. Her thin lips were drawn 
 back over nearly toothless gums, and showed two 
 long, yellow teeth, which divided and gave her a half- 
 savage, animal appearance. The head was crowned 
 with a mop of thin, grayish-black hair, and her 
 cheeks were sunken, as though she had been dead 
 some days. 
 
 " My name," she said at last, speaking Spanish 
 fluently, from which he rightly inferred that she was 
 a servant in one of the wealthy native families, " is 
 Benita Llopis, and as long as I live I shall pray for 
 you and be grateful to you." 
 
 " Thanks," replied Everton hastily, for he saw 
 that she was on the verge of more tears and dem- 
 onstrations of gratitude. " Did the man hurt 
 you?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " If he tries to strike you again come and tell me, 
 I am the American quartermaster-sergeant here." 
 
 " A thousand thanks, Senor." 
 
 As she spoke, the first call for retreat sounded, 
 and the sergeant turned to go. Stooping, he picked 
 up the peseta and handed it to her. She took it and 
 put it carefully away in the folds of her peona waist.. 
 
 " Adios," said Everton, as he turned on his heel 
 and walked briskly up the beach. When he came 
 
 14
 
 BEN IT A LLOPIS 
 
 to the road which leads up toward the plaza he 
 stopped and looked back. 
 
 The sky in the west was growing dark, and the 
 mountains on the Panay side were barely discernible. 
 Above the island of Guimaras a few fleecy clouds 
 floated in the evening air. They were still glowing 
 with the rosy colors which had faded into dusk in the 
 lower atmosphere. Owing to its altitude, the vol- 
 cano of Canaloan caught the last rays of the sun, now 
 far below the horizon, and for a moment reared a 
 violet-crested peak above the evening shadows which 
 had fallen upon the lowlands and the sea. The 
 sound of the tide, just beginning to ebb, was borne 
 to Everton's ears, and as he peered into the gloom 
 which had enshrouded the river bank he could just 
 distinguish the bent form of old Benita crouching 
 by her basket on the dark sands. 
 
 15
 
 Chapter n 
 
 AT THE CAFE OF SENOR DE LA RAMA 
 
 HE island of Negros is so close to Panay that 
 at night, when there is no moon and the 
 southwest monsoon blows freshly, parties of 
 insurgents can steal out in their swift paraos from 
 the rivers and inlets along the Panay shore and cross 
 to one of the coast towns of Negros in less than two 
 hours. 
 
 Few sail are to be seen on the usually quiet waters 
 of the Straits. Sugar lorchas large, ungainly 
 schooners, which carry the brown wealth of Negros 
 in its crude form to the warehouses and godowns of 
 Iloilo have almost a monopoly in the marine land- 
 scape. At intervals of days, the smoke or low black 
 hull of a tramp steamer may be seen, hugging the 
 Panay shore on her way to or from the outer world. 
 The eastern coast of ISTegros presents to the lover 
 of nature a shore line of exceptional beauty. From 
 Victorias and Seravia on the north to Sumag on the 
 
 south, the coast is fringed with a deep forest of cocoa 
 
 16
 
 AT THE CAFE OF SENOR DE LA RAMA 
 
 palms. Behind this belt the ground slopes gradually 
 to the mountains, some twenty-five miles inland. Be- 
 tween these mountains and the sea are fields on fields 
 of fertile sugar lands, broken by groves of palm, 
 bamboo, and banana trees. Watered most plenti- 
 fully by several large rivers, which wind their tor- 
 tuous courses from the upland gorges at the base of 
 Canaloan through rich hacienda lands and forests 
 of rare woods to the Straits, this narrow belt of 
 coast country holds as rich sugar lands as any in 
 the world. 
 
 On a promontory on the eastern coast of Negros, 
 near the narrowest part of the Straits, is situated, 
 about two miles inland, the pueblo of Silay. Like 
 most of the towns of the Philippines, it has little to 
 boast in the way of architectural beauty. A score 
 of houses of the more pretentious, two-story type, a 
 few others built of nipa, with tall thatched roofs and 
 sides of interlaced bamboo; a few streets which de- 
 teriorate into rough trails a hundred yards or so be- 
 yond the limits of the town, and one broad highway 
 running north and south, connecting Silay with the 
 other coast pueblos these sum up the municipal 
 pretensions of the populous little village. 
 
 Upon its main street, fronting the Plaza, one 
 Pedro de la Kama has in times past set up a business 
 2 17
 
 D4NIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 in wines, groceries, and tobacco. The front of his 
 little shop contains three or four chairs, very much 
 the worse for wear, and a table just strong enough 
 to support a half-dozen bottles of beer. This de- 
 partment of the establishment had been christened 
 by one of the American soldiers the " de la Rama 
 Cafe," and it was here that the officers of the Silay 
 detachment were wont to congregate when not ac- 
 tively engaged in their official duties or in calling 
 upon the pretty little senoritas of Silay. 
 
 On an afternoon in the month of April, 1899, 
 three men occupied the cafe. Two were American 
 officers, and the third was Senor Jose Mispall, the 
 owner of a hacienda up country, and the wearer, on 
 the occasion when we make his acquaintance, of a 
 large yellow-diamond ring. One of the officers was 
 addressed by his companion as Lieutenant Taylor, 
 the other was a Captain of Volunteers by name of 
 Blanchard. The latter was a newcomer to the 
 Philippines, and his failure to participate in the con- 
 versation of the others was due to his ignorance of 
 what Taylor called "King Alfonso's pure Castil- 
 ian." The latter, who was temporarily in com- 
 mand of the detachment at Silay, paused with a 
 glass half-way to his lips, and said, addressing 
 
 Mispall : 
 
 18
 
 AT THE CAFE OF SENOR DE LA RAMA 
 
 " Seiior Jose, I hear that there is to be a game of 
 monte at the house of our friend Isidro Paris this 
 evening." 
 
 " Si, Senor," replied Mispall, his small, black eyes 
 brightening. " Shall you go ? " 
 
 " What are you two chinning about ? " interrupted 
 the Volunteer captain, who had come to Silay that 
 morning on his way north to one of the smaller coast 
 towns. 
 
 " We are talking about a monte game at the house 
 of Isidro Paris to-night. Want to go ? " 
 
 " Well, rather. You can count me in if there is 
 to be any fun," rejoined Blanchard, twirling his 
 blond mustache and casting a side glance at two 
 pretty mestizas, who were passing down the street 
 outside. " Do these people gamble much ? " 
 
 " Wait and see," Taylor answered with a laugh. 
 " When I first came here I went to one of their 
 games one evening expecting to break the bank. I 
 was flush at the time, as I had been up in the woods 
 for two months, and had three months' pay in my 
 pocket. Well, when I got there, I found that these 
 ' dagos,' as I then regarded them, were playing six 
 or seven thousand dollars on a card. So I didn't 
 play." 
 
 Blanchard was interested. In the little town in 
 19
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Illinois from which he came he had conducted a 
 boot and shoe business on a small scale. It hap- 
 pened that his pay as a Captain of Volunteers was 
 the largest income he had ever received. As a rule, 
 however, he didn't state this fact, but talked of the 
 sacrifice he had made in a pecuniary way in taking 
 his commission. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me that niggers like our 
 friend here can afford to play like that? " 
 
 " No, I don't," said Taylor. " I don't know many 
 people who can afford to play as high as that. But 
 they do play high, whether they can afford it or not. 
 And don't be offended, Blanchard, if I give you a 
 piece of advice," he added, as Senor Mispall, who 
 had just left them with an effusive bow, disappeared 
 around the corner. 
 
 " Of course not," replied Blanchard. " What is 
 it?" 
 
 " Don't call these people { niggers ' to their faces. 
 They are fast learning English, and they might 
 understand you. If you are going to be stationed 
 in Escalante you will be entirely dependent on 
 them for society, and if you make a break like 
 that at the outset they won't have much use for 
 
 you." 
 
 " And a lot I shall care about that," exclaimed 
 20
 
 AT THE CAFE OF SENOR DE LA RAMA 
 
 Blanchard, with a noisy laugh. " Do you mean to 
 tell me that it is any pleasure to associate with these 
 people in a social way ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do," said Taylor. " And when you've 
 lived, as I have, for six months at a stretch where you 
 haven't a white man to talk to, you will be just as 
 glad to associate with the natives as I have been. 
 You may think you have resources within yourself 
 which will be all you need, but I doubt it. And, be- 
 sides, after you learn Spanish, you will find these 
 people very pleasant companions. You may feel 
 now that you would rather be alone than associate 
 with a man who wears his shirt outside his trousers, 
 or a girl who spits out of a window when she is talk- 
 ing to her friends in the street below. But when 
 you've lived a month or so in Escalante, and asso- 
 ciated with yourself till you're afraid to look in the 
 glass, you won't be so damned exclusive, and you 
 will go out because you're too blue to stay in. Have 
 another bottle ? " 
 
 " No, thanks ; I feel as though I were all liver now. 
 What kind of a place is that you said I am ordered 
 to?" 
 
 " Escalante ? " inquired Taylor, with a grim smile. 
 " It's difficult to describe it. You don't know what 
 a pleasure you have in store. When you have been 
 
 21
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 there two months, and you see a white man coming 
 down the road, you will run up a tree and chatter 
 throw cocoanuts at him, most likely." 
 
 The spirits of the somewhat impressionable cap- 
 tain began to be affected by the banter of his com- 
 panion. He had not been long enough in the service 
 to acquire a soldierly habit of learning to make the 
 best of monotonous situations, as soldiers are bound 
 to do. Monotony is a far more dangerous enemy 
 for the military man than hardship. Not infre- 
 quently the hardest battles of his life are fought out 
 in dreary garrison existence. It is the victory gained 
 over self in these conflicts, the habit of persistent 
 obedience and patience here acquired, which comes 
 to the front in the critical hour of battle and makes 
 an old soldier reliable where a recruit is not. Blan- 
 chard knew very little about soldiering, in fact, as 
 most of his campaigning had been done in the armory 
 of his native town. His commission he owed to his 
 brother-in-law, who edited the organ of the " Ad- 
 ministration," as the " Glenville Daily Herald " pre- 
 tentiously styled itself on its editorial page, and who 
 occupied a seat in Congress. 
 
 He sat in self-absorbed silence, regarding the rows 
 of tinned sausages and other edibles on the walls of 
 the little shop, and wondering vaguely if the dust 
 
 22
 
 AT THE CAFE OF SENOR DE LA RAMA 
 
 on them could have gathered to such a depth in less 
 than five years. 
 
 " Taylor," he exclaimed suddenly, " do you ex- 
 pect to spend the rest of your life out here ? " 
 
 Taylor shrugged his broad shoulders by way of 
 answer, and continued to draw luxuriously at his 
 cigar. 
 
 " Because, if you do, I pity you, that's all. Why 
 don't you get married and settle down ? " 
 
 " Well," drawled the regular officer slowly, " I'll 
 tell you one reason why I don't marry. My pay is 
 just a hundred and twenty-five dollars a month. By 
 being fairly economical, and keeping away from 
 poker, I find I can get along very well on a hundred. 
 When I meet a girl who can make me happy and run 
 the house on the other twenty-five I will consider the 
 matter. Hello, Fairchild ! " he added, as a figure 
 appeared in the doorway. " Is dinner ready ? " 
 
 The newcomer was Dr. Richard Fairchild, a man 
 of many experiences and a contract-surgeon in the 
 army. He surveyed critically the array of empty 
 bottles beside the two men before replying. 
 
 " No dinner at the house to-night," he said. 
 " Have you fellows drank up all de la Eama's 
 beer?" 
 
 " What do you mean ? " exclaimed Taylor and
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Blanchard in one breath. Fairchild was acting as 
 caterer of the mess, and, in that capacity, was the 
 recipient of more abuse than any other two men in 
 the army. 
 
 " I mean, gentlemen," replied the swarthy doctor, 
 as he seated himself on an overturned soap box and 
 proceeded to pour the contents of a bottle of Schlitz 
 Milwaukee into a cracked tumbler, " that we have 
 been invited to dine with Senor Isidro Paris at his 
 hacienda and remain afterward to a game of monte. 
 I have accepted for you both." 
 
 " The devil you have ! " said Taylor. " I wonder 
 who you think is in command of this Post. You 
 haven't asked my permission yet." 
 
 " I have not," replied Fairchild calmly. " You 
 forget, Senor Teniente, that I am the post surgeon. 
 I will put you both on sick report until to-morrow. 
 If this beer doesn't save me the trouble," he added, 
 opening his second bottle. 
 
 " We can't all go, very well," said Taylor. "Might 
 have a revolution or something before we got back." 
 
 " You can turn over the reins of authority to that 
 second lieutenant who arrived yesterday," suggested 
 the doctor. " He'll be tickled to death." 
 
 " Where is he ? " asked Taylor. 
 
 "I left him over at the quarters. He's been 
 24
 
 AT THE CAFE OF SENOR DE LA RAMA 
 
 around making calls on all the pretty girls in town. 
 There is nothing slow about him; he only struck 
 town yesterday." 
 
 " Can he speak Spanish ? " inquired Blanchard. 
 
 " Like a native. He was down in Cuba for a year 
 with a Volunteer Signal Corps or something." 
 
 " Oh, let's take the youngster with us," said Tay- 
 lor. " I fancy Sergeant Everton can take care of 
 things until morning." 
 
 " Everton, Everton," repeated Fairchild slowly. 
 " Is that the quartermaster-sergeant ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and he's the best man I have in the com- 
 pany." 
 
 " I wonder why I haven't seen him before," said 
 the doctor thoughtfully. 
 
 " He's been up at Gimbalaon in charge of a 
 detachment until last week. Since then I've had 
 him on duty as quartermaster-sergeant. I'm going 
 to bust Burke one of these days and make Everton 
 top." 
 
 " Is Everton his real name ? " asked Blanchard. 
 
 " I think so. He's a General Order 40 man, and a 
 college man into the bargain. I'll show you some of 
 the maps he made of the country around Gimbalaon. 
 He knows more engineering than I do." 
 
 " He looks like a gentleman," observed Eairchild. 
 25
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " I know a man by the name of Everton in New 
 York. I wonder if he can be any relation ? " 
 
 " Very likely. He comes from there. He is a 
 gentleman, if I am any judge of the article, and he's 
 a medal of honor man into the bargain." 
 
 " Is he ? " said Blanchard enviously. " How did 
 he win it ? " 
 
 " Saving my life under a heavy fire at Santiago," 
 replied Taylor briefly. 
 
 " I don't wonder that you want to make him top 
 sergeant, then," said Fairchild. 
 
 " I'd make him a brigadier-general if I had the 
 making of them," replied the other. " Come. If 
 we're going to the Paris hacienda we'd better be 
 moving." 
 
 A few moments later Fairchild was dressing for 
 the ride, when his eye happened to fall on an un- 
 opened letter lying face downward on the floor. 
 It had apparently slipped from the bunch of Amer- 
 ican mail, which had come in the day before, and 
 lain unnoticed all day. Stooping carelessly, he picked 
 it up, and when his eye fell upon the handwriting 
 he gave a start, staring for a moment at the super- 
 scription. It was addressed in a feminine hand to 
 " Daniel Everton." 
 
 "Well, I'll be damned!" he muttered softly. 
 26
 
 AT THE CAFE OF SENOR DE LA RAMA 
 
 Sinking into the solitary chair which, with the fold- 
 ing cot and table improvised from a soap box, made 
 up the furniture of the room, he stared intently 
 at the letter. He remained in this attitude for 
 several minutes, and then rising, leaned out of the 
 window. 
 
 " Orderly," he called sharply, " tell Sergeant 
 Everton I want to see him." 
 
 A moment later the two men faced each other in 
 the little apartment, the sergeant standing at atten- 
 tion in the doorway. His face was not visible, owing 
 to the gloom in the room, which was heightened 
 rather than dispelled by a candle stuck in the neck 
 of an empty beer bottle. He gave the rifle salute 
 and stood waiting. Dr. Fairchild leaned against the 
 improvised table with the letter in his hand and re- 
 garded the other thoughtfully. The soldierly per- 
 sonality had acquired a strong interest for him. 
 
 " Did you want to see me, sir ? " asked the ser- 
 geant, after a moment's silence. 
 
 " Yes. Here is a letter for you. It must have 
 gotten in with mine by mistake this morning. I 
 only found it just now on the floor." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Everton, advancing and 
 taking the letter. " Anything else, sir ? " 
 
 Fairchild regarded him attentively for a moment. 
 27
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " You enlisted under an assumed name ? " he asked 
 at length. 
 
 " No, sir." The voice betrayed no emotion, but a 
 slight touch of surprise. 
 
 " That's all, Sergeant," said the surgeon, turning 
 briskly upon his heel and resuming his occupation of 
 fastening his gold collar devices on to the stiff collar 
 of his white duck blouse. Everton saluted once more 
 and turned toward the door. 
 
 " Oh, Sergeant," added the doctor, pausing in his 
 occupation and examining a pin prick in his finger. 
 " Are you any relation to Marshall Everton of New 
 York?" 
 
 " He is my father, sir." 
 
 " Indeed ? I know him very well. If there is 
 anything I can do for you at any time let me know. 
 That's all." 
 
 " Thank you again, sir," replied the sergeant, as 
 he once more turned to leave the room. 
 
 In the course of an hour four horsemen were rid- 
 ing briskly out of Silay down the highroad to the 
 south. Taylor and Fairchild were in advance, while 
 Captain Blanchard rode behind with the new second 
 lieutenant. The moon was just rising, and the low 
 marsh lands toward the sea were curtained with a 
 heavy mist. From out this sea of liquid silver crests 
 
 28
 
 AT THE CAFE OF SENOR DE LA RAMA 
 
 of palm trees rose like fairy islands. Inland, the 
 mountains were just visible through the haze. 
 
 The surgeon rode by Taylor's side, and for a while 
 neither spoke. Each was impressed with the beauty 
 of the scene, and each was engrossed with thoughts 
 of a personal nature. The two men had been friends 
 for years, and their friendship had been cemented by 
 mutual association in war; but the thoughts which are 
 prone to possess the mind on a brilliant moonlight 
 night each kept to himself. 
 
 At length, when they had ridden for a mile with- 
 out speaking, Dr. Fairchild broke the silence. 
 
 " Funny how small the world is," he said. 
 
 " Apropos of what ? " said Taylor. 
 
 " You know my sister ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Taylor simply, leaning over and 
 doing something to his stirrup leather that it did 
 not require. " What about her ? " he asked, after 
 waiting a moment for the other to continue. 
 
 " Well, I happened to get hold of a letter to 
 one of your men this afternoon in with my mail 
 by mistake. It was from her. Queer, that's all. 
 I wonder what the man is doing here in the 
 ranks? " 
 
 " Is it Everton ? " 
 
 " Yes. How did you know that ? "
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Guessed it, easily enough. There's only one man 
 in the company it could be." 
 
 " A case of patriotic enthusiasm, I suppose," con- 
 tinued Fairchild. " It seems odd, though, our run- 
 ning across him out here." 
 
 This observation called for no reply, and Taylor 
 made none. They galloped on, letting the horses 
 have their heads until a small river was reached. 
 Here they drew up, and before starting to ford the 
 stream allowed the panting animals to slake their 
 thirst in the cool water. Taylor looked thoughtfully 
 at the reflection of the bamboo brake in the smooth 
 surface until the horses had drank their fill, and 
 then, as they were slowly wading across, he asked : 
 
 " How is your sister ? " 
 
 " Quite well, thanks, the last time I heard," re- 
 plied Fairchild conventionally. 
 
 The conversation drifted into other channels dur- 
 ing the remainder of the ride. A few moments later 
 Blanchard and the second lieutenant came galloping 
 up, and the four men turned down the broad drive- 
 way which leads to the hacienda mansion of Isidro 
 
 Paris. 
 
 80
 
 Chapter 
 JOSE MISPALL PLAYS MONTE 
 
 TJPPOSE they won. What sort of a govern- 
 ment would we have with men like Montilla 
 at the head of it? Bah!" 
 Senor Isidro emphasized this inquiry by a sweep- 
 ing gesture with the hand which held his knife, and 
 Taylor, who sat next to him, flinched nervously as 
 the hand passed him and returned to the table with 
 a thud. Sefior Isidro was a large man, and, notwith- 
 standing his origin, which was largely Spanish, he 
 was of a darker skin than Jose Mispall, who sat a 
 little way down the long table gorging himself with 
 food and drinking a great deal more than was good 
 for him. In fact, he was browner than most natives, 
 because he had spent his life under the rays of that 
 tropical sun, which can turn a white man as brown 
 as any Malay. His hair was of a steel gray, and his 
 eyes were the kind that can flash fire when aroused 
 or look with sympathy upon the needs of a friend. 
 
 His manner was usually quiet and dignified, but he 
 
 31
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 could be excited too, on occasions, and few things 
 irritated him so much as a reference to the present 
 war. 
 
 " I tell you," he continued, after a pause, " what- 
 ever the government which the United States will 
 give us may be, it will be one under which we can 
 live and work our haciendas and be safe in our beds. 
 That's the chief point." 
 
 " But is it true," asked Mispall thickly, " that the 
 people in the United States consider us unfit for self- 
 government ? " 
 
 " We are unfit," replied Paris, " taking all classes 
 into consideration. In America all men vote; rich 
 and poor alike. There the poor are educated men, 
 here they are no better than beasts. Is it not so, 
 Senor Teniente ? " 
 
 Thus appealed to, Taylor replied tactfully : " In 
 no country, Senor, are all the people fit for the fran- 
 chise they use. In the United States we have thou- 
 sands who vote without knowing exactly what they 
 are voting for. Now, gentlemen like yourself and 
 Senor Mispall are aswell qualified tovote as any one." 
 
 " Ah, but your proportion must tell in that case," 
 replied the old man shrewdly. " Here you may find 
 a few thousand hacenderos, merchants, and others 
 
 who are intelligent enough to vote ; but the masses 
 
 32
 
 JOSE MISPALL PLATS MONTE 
 
 the common people." He did not finish the sen- 
 tence, shrugging his shoulders expressively. 
 
 " I think the poorer classes are pretty fairly intel- 
 ligent," protested Dr. Fairchild. " At least in the 
 towns." 
 
 " In the towns, yes," responded Paris ; " but the 
 people who work on the haciendas the taos they ; 
 are little better than animals. There is one thing 
 to be said, however," he added ; " they are such 
 beasts they wouldn't take the trouble to vote." 
 
 " Until some politician like our friend Montilla 
 showed them how to convert a vote in two dollars, 
 Mex.," suggested Taylor, lighting his cigarette and 
 tossing the match-box across the table to the second 
 lieutenant. 
 
 " It isn't a question of the franchise or its abuse," 
 continued Paris. " I presume no country has abso- 
 lutely pure elections. But if these people had their 
 way and their precious independence, we'd all have 
 our throats cut. We lack capable, experienced men 
 for the high places as badly as we do intelligent 
 voters to place them there. We need a mother coun- 
 try, and shall for a generation to come." 
 
 Mispall's small eyes gleamed viciously. " If that is 
 what you call Spain, give me no more of it," he said. 
 
 " Spain was no mother. She was a bad step- 
 3 33
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 mother," replied Paris. " Thank God, her rule is 
 over." 
 
 " Amen," said Mispall, crossing himself rever- 
 ently, for he was religious in his own superstitious 
 way. 
 
 " What sort of a sugar season do you expect, 
 Senor ? " asked Taylor, wishing to turn the conversa- 
 tion from politics into less dangerous channels. 
 
 " Very good, I trust. Why ? " responded Paris. 
 
 " If the Holy Mother sees fit to keep the locusts 
 from our land," added Mispall, crossing himself 
 again. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " asked the second 
 lieutenant. 
 
 " He refers to the pest of our beautiful island," 
 explained Paris. " The locusts. They come over 
 from Guimaras and Panay, and in a single night de- 
 stroy a sugar crop worth thousands of dollars." 
 
 " Do you mean the kind of locusts John the Bap- 
 tist ate grasshoppers ? " 
 
 " I believe they are the same," answered Isidro. 
 " I should not care to eat them," he added with a 
 grimace. 
 
 " Do you believe that story ? " asked the second 
 lieutenant, speaking in a low tone, in English, to 
 Fairchild. 
 
 84
 
 JOSE MISPALL PLATS MONTE 
 
 " What story ? " asked the doctor, who had not 
 been listening. 
 
 " Why, he says that flocks, or herds, or whatever 
 you call 'em, of locusts come over from Panay and 
 Guimaras and eat up their sugar crops over night." 
 
 " Yes, it's true. I've seen them." 
 
 " How the devil do they get here fly ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " But it's twenty miles. Do you mean to tell me 
 that grasshoppers can fly twenty miles without light- 
 ing?" 
 
 " That's what I said." 
 
 " It isn't possible," said the second lieutenant posi- 
 tively. 
 
 " All right," rejoined the doctor laconically. 
 
 He was some ten years older than the second lieu- 
 tenant, and in those ten years he had learned never 
 to call anything impossible unless he had proven it so. 
 
 " You have suffered from the attacks of the lo- 
 custs ? " he said, turning to Mispall. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," replied the native. " For two 
 years now they have ruined my crop. In many 
 ways I have been unlucky. Fortune has not smiled." 
 
 " You tempt her too much, Jose," said Paris, with 
 his mouth full of chicken. " You play too high. I 
 
 hope you will be prudent to-night." 
 
 35
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Mispall shrugged his shoulders with a fine assump- 
 tion of indifference. " What matters it, as long as 
 one loses to one's friends ? " he replied. 
 
 Senor Isidro laughed noisily. " That's a brave 
 sentiment, and as long as you feel that way you 
 will find plenty of friends who will be willing to 
 win your money. Let us hope that you will re- 
 trieve your recent bad fortune at the table this 
 evening." 
 
 Mispall did not reply, being engaged in tossing off 
 a glass of whisky. He was beginning the evening 
 badly by drinking too much, and already his hand 
 trembled visibly. Of late his luck had been so bad 
 that it had practically completed the ruin in his for- 
 tunes begun ten years before by idleness and dissipa- 
 tion. Senor Jose was one of those men to whom an 
 inheritance is little short of a curse, and when his 
 father died, leaving him quite a considerable fortune, 
 he had set to work to get rid of it. It had taken ten 
 years to complete the work, but it was now so nearly 
 completed that he had ridden over to the Paris ha- 
 cienda on this occasion with five thousand dollars of 
 borrowed money, with which he hoped to win enough 
 to set him on his feet again. An old woman servant 
 in his family had prophesied that he would win to- 
 night, and, being of a superstitious turn of mind, he 
 
 36
 
 JOSE MISPALL PLATS MONTE 
 
 placed great confidence in her prophecy, and was 
 impatient for the game to commence. 
 
 A short silence fell upon those at table after 
 Paris's last remark, a silence which was broken only 
 by the noisy mastication of an old man, a distant con- 
 nection of the family and a pensioner upon Senor 
 Isidro's bounty, who rinsed out his mouth with water, 
 which he expectorated onto the floor. 
 
 " I wonder what he'll do next ? " said the second 
 lieutenant nervously, speaking in an undertone to 
 Fairchild. 
 
 " That's about the limit, I fancy. He'll go to 
 sleep before long." 
 
 Having satisfied his appetite, the young officer 
 leaned back in his chair and looked about him. He 
 had not yet fully recovered from the astonishment 
 which had been his upon his introduction to this re- 
 markable household. He was having his first ex- 
 perience of Philippine hospitality, and the whole 
 establishment was a revelation to him. 
 
 His ideas concerning the natives of the big archi- 
 pelago had been, up to the time when he reported 
 in Manila a week before, derived exclusively from 
 American newspapers. Those which had made the 
 most impression on him were illustrated weeklies 
 
 showing family groups of half naked savages stand- 
 
 87
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 ing about with bows and arrows arid labeled, " Our 
 enemies in the Philippines." 
 
 The room in which he now found himself was at 
 least fifty feet in length and opened upon a big veran- 
 da running around the house. It was lavishly fur- 
 nished, and the floors were of some dark, highly 
 polished hard wood. A half dozen muchachos served 
 them, and pressed upon those present many and vari- 
 ous beverages. Paris himself drank but little, know- 
 ing too well the climate of his native land to mix 
 champagne, beer, and whisky as the second lieu- 
 tenant was doing. 
 
 Of the others at the table, there were, besides 
 Senora Paris, two women, the one her sister and the 
 other her niece. The former had recently presented 
 her spouse with a son and heir, whom she brought to 
 dinner with her. The head of the household ignored 
 their presence during the meal, and when, on two 
 occasions, the second lieutenant attempted to en- 
 gage the younger woman in conversation, his efforts 
 met with slight success. Blanchard studied them 
 curiously, being unable to join in the conversation, 
 and consequently finding the dinner monotonous. 
 
 The four Americans had not arrived until after 
 nine o'clock, and by the time the meal was over it 
 was eleven. As soon as they had finished, the women 
 
 38
 
 JOSE MISPALL PLATS MONTE 
 
 withdrew to their own apartments and the men 
 sought the next room, where the table had been ar- 
 ranged. The other guests of the evening now began 
 to arrive. There were about twenty of them, the 
 owners of neighboring haciendas and young men of 
 sporting proclivities from Silay and Talisay. They 
 smoked excessively, and talked excitedly among 
 themselves of their recent losses or successes at cards, 
 of the prospects for the season's sugar crop, and of 
 many other themes of local interest. 
 
 The game began almost immediately by request 
 of Mispall, who was impatient to realize on the 
 prophecy of his old servant, and a silence fell upon 
 those in the room as Paris went to the bank and the 
 young caballeros began to bet. 
 
 It was extremely hot, and the air was laden with 
 tobacco smoke. Outside the moon was high in the 
 heavens, and the soft air of the April evening, fresh 
 with the earthly freshness of the early morning 
 hours, came into the overheated room from the broad 
 verandas. Invited by the cool air without, Taylor 
 and the Volunteer Captain left a group of natives 
 who were hanging over the table and withdrew to 
 the veranda. They threw themselves into the long 
 cane chairs which they found there, and were for a 
 
 few moments absorbed in admiration of the beauty 
 
 39
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 of the night. After the overheated house they had 
 left, the cool air was grateful to their flushed faces. 
 
 " Well, I must confess that this is an unique house- 
 hold," said Blanchard. " I never expected to find 
 anything like this out here." 
 
 " Are you enjoying yourself ? " asked Taylor, 
 drawing contentedly at his cigar and watching the 
 smoke drift over the railing and disappear in the 
 moonlight. 
 
 " Yes ; but I suppose I would have more fun out 
 of it if I spoke the language." 
 
 " That will come in time. What do you think of 
 our friend Paris 1 " 
 
 " He seems to be a remarkable man, in his way. 
 Is he really friendly to us really loyal to the United 
 States?" 
 
 " Yes, entirely so, I fancy," replied Taylor, with 
 a yawn. " For some time he may have been on the 
 fence, but now that he knows that we are here to 
 stay, he wants this revolutionary spirit to quiet down, 
 so he can work his haciendas. What he wants is a 
 staple government. He belongs to the class who 
 have lost money by this war. Still, I have no doubt 
 he occasionally contributes to the other side, even 
 now." 
 
 " What makes you think that? " 
 40
 
 JOSE MISPALL PLAYS MONTE 
 
 " I judge it from the fact that he is never dis- 
 turbed by our friends out in the hills there." Taylor 
 waved his cigar toward the dim outline of the moun- 
 tains. " I have never heard of their troubling him." 
 
 " Do you mean the insurgents ? " 
 
 " That's what they call themselves. In reality 
 they are nothing but a lot of bandits. This revolu- 
 tion is kept up by the class whom we may term rich 
 malcontents. By that I mean some of the wealthy 
 hacenderos, who are naturally gamblers and idlers." 
 
 " If they are gamblers and idlers," interrupted the 
 captain, " how did they acquire all this wealth ? " 
 
 " Did you never hear," asked Taylor dryly, " of 
 a gambler and idler inheriting money from a sober 
 and industrious parent? Well, I presume that is 
 where men like Mispall in there get theirs. I don't 
 imagine that Jose ever did a stroke of work in his 
 life. When you have a couple of sons of your own, 
 some day, to blow in more money in a night than 
 you make in a month, you will understand about the 
 Great Creator's system of keeping things even in 
 this world. I know one young man on this island 
 who came in last month with a party of ladrones and 
 burned up his own father's hacienda, just because 
 the old man got tired of paying his debts. It's men 
 like that, aided and abetted by fellows like our friend 
 
 41
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Mispall, who cause all the trouble. They are not 
 patriots in any sense of the word. Some of them 
 live in the coast towns, under the very noses of the 
 Americans, and hold commissions in the insurgent 
 army." 
 
 " Does Paris, himself, mix in politics ? " 
 " Not so much now as formerly. He was at one 
 time governor of the island. At present he devotes 
 his time to making more money." 
 
 " I don't blame him. Is he very rich ? " 
 " Yes, I believe so. Millions, probably. He told 
 me once that he made seventy thousand a year on 
 this hacienda alone. He owns several others in the 
 south and a lot of houses in the different towns near 
 here. He rents these at fabulous prices to us now. 
 We pay four hundred a month for that house in 
 Silay, where our quarters are. He never got more 
 than fifty for it in the old Spanfeh days." 
 
 Blanchard was not surprised. He was now pre- 
 pared to believe any tale, however extraordinary, of 
 the wealth of his host. He was of a nature to be 
 impressed by externals, and already began to regard 
 Paris with a respect which he had never imagined he 
 could have for a "nigger." He smoked thought- 
 fully and looked out over the acres of cane fields 
 
 which lay before them. 
 
 42
 
 JOSE MISPALL PLATS MONTE 
 
 " Is the fighting all over out here ? " he asked, 
 after a long pause. 
 
 " Pretty nearly. We may have a skirmish or so 
 from time to time." 
 
 The Volunteer was disgusted. " I came out here 
 to fight," he said. " If the war is over, I might as 
 well resign and go into the sugar business. I won- 
 der if old Paris wants a partner ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I'm sure; you might ask him. Are 
 you tired of soldiering already ? " 
 
 " I don't call this soldiering. This is going out 
 into society." 
 
 Taylor laughed. " You'll have all the soldiering 
 you want when you get to Escalante," he replied. 
 
 " Do you mean that there's a chance of scrap up 
 there?" 
 
 " No, not fighting, necessarily; but plenty of scout- 
 ing around the country." 
 
 Blanchard was about to ask another question when 
 a figure darkened the open doorway of the veranda, 
 and, looking up, Taylor observed the second lieu- 
 tenant. 
 
 " Hello, youngster," he called. " Having a good 
 time ? " 
 
 " Oh, there you are ! What are you fellows doing 
 out here ? " 
 
 48
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Enjoying life in our own quiet way," replied the 
 other, looking at his watch. It was after midnight, 
 and he was tired, having been up since dawn of the 
 previous day. " I think we had better be going." 
 
 " I tell you," said the second lieutenant, excitedly, 
 advancing to where the two men were sitting, 
 " there's a big game on in there, and our friend Mis- 
 pall is getting it in the neck losing five hundred 
 and a thousand at a clip. He's made Paris play with 
 him, and all the others have dropped out. You had 
 better come in and see the fun." 
 
 " By George ! " exclaimed Taylor, rising to his 
 feet. " It will be one of their big games. The play 
 doesn't often run as high as that. It will continue 
 until somebody is ruined, and it won't be old Paris, 
 I fancy. I'm sorry for that poor devil Mispall." 
 
 When the three men entered the room where the 
 game was in progress, they at once noticed the air 
 of suppressed excitement which prevailed. At the 
 end of the table sat Senor Paris, who was receiving 
 the bets of Mispall. The elder man's composure and 
 gravity were-in strong contrast to the almost frenzied 
 excitement of his young neighbor. Senor Jose, dis- 
 carding all attempts to play with any caution, leaned 
 over the table and placed his bets wildly. He was 
 
 already a ruined man, and the quality of honesty 
 
 44
 
 was not sufficiently developed in his character to pre- 
 vent his playing after he knew he could not hope to 
 make good his losses. Indeed, he bet with even 
 greater freedom and extravagance now that he was 
 wagering the credit of a hopeless bankrupt against 
 the good money of his host. Fortune had been 
 against him from the first, but he had continued to 
 play, hoping that a lucky stroke might put him on 
 his feet again. In the short time the Americans had 
 been out of the room he had lost over six thousand 
 dollars, and, altho several of his more intimate 
 friends remonstrated with him, it was without 
 avail. 
 
 The play continued for some time after Taylor and 
 the captain entered the room, Paris reserving the 
 same calm and imperturbable exterior. His excite- 
 ment, if he had any, was only shown by his puffing 
 on the long, black cheroot which was held tightly 
 between his lips. Like all of his race, he was often 
 excitable when there was no occasion for it, but when 
 it was a question of money he dropped the affable, 
 social man and took on the cool and calculating man 
 of business. High play was by no means a novel 
 form of amusement with him; tho, to do him jus- 
 tice, had he known that Mispall was ruining him- 
 self, he would have stopped the game long since and 
 
 45
 
 D4NIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 closed the bank. He had, indeed, made one or two 
 suggestions to this effect, but they had met with im- 
 passioned remonstrance. 
 
 Mispall's brother now approached him and laid a 
 restraining hand on his sleeve. 
 
 " Don't tempt fortune any more to-night, Jose," 
 he said. " The luck is strong against you." 
 
 Mispall brushed him fiercely to one side. The 
 state of semi-intoxication in which he left the dinner 
 table had been increased by his drinking freely 
 through the game, and even now he stopped long 
 enough to go to the refreshment table and toss off 
 a glass of whisky. 
 
 " Caramba ! " he replied hoarsely. " Do you 
 think I can stop now ? The luck must turn." 
 
 " Very well; but one word more," added his 
 brother in a low tone, as Jose again started for the 
 table. " Play low until the luck does turn, and then 
 bet high if you want to win." 
 
 Acting upon this suggestion, Jose returned to the 
 table and very cautiously placed a hundred dollars 
 on the king to lose. Paris dealt swiftly, and after 
 several cards had come up, the king made his ap- 
 pearance in the losing pile. 
 
 " Bueno ! " exclaimed his brother. " Now place 
 two bets." 
 
 46
 
 JOSE MISPALL PLATS MONTE 
 
 " Mind your own business ! " growled Jose, un- 
 gratefully. " I can attend to mine." 
 
 At this the brother shrugged his shoulders expres- 
 sively and withdrew to the other side of the table. 
 
 Again Jose bet, this time placing two hundred dol- 
 lars each on the ace and nine spot, playing the former 
 to win and the latter to lose. Paris dealt, and the 
 two cards were the first to come up. Mispall had 
 won four hundred dollars. 
 
 " You see," he shouted, addressing his brother, 
 " the luck has turned. What did I tell you ? " 
 
 " Go slow, then, and don't abuse it," returned the 
 other curtly. 
 
 There are times when good advice is the worst ad- 
 vice to give. It excites antagonism and makes the 
 one advised take the wrong road when he might have 
 taken the right one, if left to himself. Such was the 
 case in this instance. Jose was in that stage of 
 drunkenness when he placed a higher valuation on 
 his own judgment than on that of any one else. 
 
 " You are a fool ! " he retorted angrily. " When 
 I was losing I bet high, and now that I win, you 
 would have me play low." 
 
 He then turned to the table, and very deliberately 
 placed one thousand dollars each on the center of 
 four cards. At this tremendous bet there was a silence 
 
 47
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 in the room for an instant, for even the more reckless 
 of the gamblers present were startled at its magni- 
 tude. Then every one began to talk at once, and 
 the room was in an uproar. 
 
 " Bravo, Jose ! " shouted one of the younger hot- 
 heads, slapping Mispall on the back approvingly. 
 " You show the proper spirit." 
 
 The older and more conservative men were aghast. 
 " Don't accept such a bet," said one of them to Paris. 
 " It will ruin him if he loses." 
 
 The words reached Mispall as he stood at the other 
 side of the table, his arms folded and his manner 
 sending forth a challenge to the world in general 
 and the bank in particular. 
 
 " Do you refuse my bet ? " he demanded in a high 
 voice, which silenced all the others in the room. 
 
 Paris shuffled the cards slowly and smoked 
 thoughtfully. In the years that were gone he had 
 known MispalPs father intimately, and this fact had 
 given him a more than neighborly interest in the 
 son. He hesitated. 
 
 " I do not refuse your bet," he said at length, " but 
 I advise you not to make it." 
 
 "You are not the one to give such advice, Senor," 
 replied Mispall, with an insulting sneer. " You have 
 won six thousand dollars."
 
 JOSE MISPALL PLAYS MONTE 
 
 " Then why make it four more ? " remonstrated 
 Paris. " I may win all four bets." 
 
 " And I may win all four. Do you refuse me the 
 opportunity ? " 
 
 " I have refused you nothing, Jose," said the old 
 man in a conciliatory tone. 
 
 " Will you deal ? " demanded Mispall roughly. 
 
 Paris rose to his feet, and drawing up his bent 
 frame to its full height, looked at the other quietly 
 in the eye. 
 
 " At my convenience, Senor," he said with dignity. 
 
 " Let some one else shuffle the pack," exclaimed 
 Eicardo Mispall. 
 
 " I'll shuffle them," said the second lieutenant, 
 who stood next to Paris, holding out his hand. 
 
 Dr. Fairchild placed a restraining grasp upon the 
 young man's arm. " Better keep out of this," he 
 said curtly in English. " Whoever loses won't thank 
 you." 
 
 The young officer dropped his hand, and a hacen- 
 dero who stood on Senor Isidro's left took the pack 
 and shuffled it. A tense silence fell upon the occu- 
 pants of the room as Paris once more received the 
 cards and began to deal. 
 
 And then followed such a run of luck as many 
 gamblers go through their lives without witnessing. 
 4 49
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 The first four cards to pass into the losing pile were 
 those which Mispall had backed to win. His losses 
 for the evening now amounted to ten thousand 
 dollars. As one card after another was turned up, 
 and he saw his money slipping away, a thousand at 
 a time, his face grew purple and his breath came in 
 quick gasps. 
 
 Fairchild was the only one of those about the table 
 who was not too engrossed by the fascination of the 
 deal to notice him. The doctor glanced down the 
 table to where Mispall was standing, and when he 
 saw the dull pallor which had replaced the flush on 
 the native's face he passed quickly around, reaching 
 him just as the last card of the four was dealt to lose. 
 Senor Jose's legs began to tremble, and an instant 
 later gave way entirely. Fairchild caught him as he 
 fell, and then, with the assistance of the second 
 lieutenant, carried the unconscious man out of the 
 room and laid him upon the floor of the veranda. 
 
 An hour or so later, the four officers bade Mispall 
 " good-night " at the door of his house and rode on 
 to their own quarters. The native had quickly re- 
 covered from the faint into which he had fallen at 
 the Paris hacienda, but was still heavily under the 
 
 influence of drink. 
 
 50
 
 JOSE MISPALL PLAYS MONTE 
 
 Left to himself, he shivered in the chill air as he 
 gave his horse to a sleepy inuchacho, and entering 
 his house, slowly ascended the stairs. As he reached 
 the top step his foot came in contact with something 
 soft. It was Benita Llopis, who was sleeping at the 
 head of the stairs. It was she who had made the 
 prophecy that this was to be his lucky night at cards. 
 
 Ever since he had regained consciousness, Jose 
 had been controlling, by a strong effort, his naturally 
 violent and brutal temper. Freed now from the - e- 
 straint placed upon him by the presence of the 
 others, he gave way to an impulse sent by his evil 
 genius and kicked the old woman viciously in the 
 side. She gave a sharp cry, and rolled quickly out 
 of the way as her master staggered across the hall- 
 way to his own room. This he entered after fum- 
 bling for a moment with the door handle, and throw- 
 ing himself upon the bed fell into a drunken stupor. 
 
 51
 
 Chapter IV 
 TWO PATRIOTS PLAN A CAMPAIGN 
 
 T was after nine o'clock when Mispall opened 
 his bloodshot eyes and stared stupidly at the 
 canopy of his four-poster bed. For several 
 minutes he was unable to recall distinctly the events 
 of the preceding evening, but lay upon his back, the 
 bullet-shaped head turned toward the window, the 
 face looking haggard and drawn in the dim light. 
 The meager rays which had succeeded in penetrating 
 the opaque, sea-shell window-panes gave no sugges- 
 tion of the fierce sunlight without. It does not take 
 many hours for the sun of the equator to rob the 
 earth of all morning freshness, and by nine o'clock 
 the day was heavy with the still, quiet heat of a 
 northern noontide. A faint breeze was, indeed, 
 blowing fitfully from the sea, but no part of it en- 
 tered the gloomy apartment, in which the air was 
 foul and oppressive. 
 
 The room was almost bare of furniture. The 
 
 dirty blotches on the walls showed where the rains 
 
 52
 
 TWO PATRIOTS PLAN A CAMPAIGN 
 
 of more than one wet season had entered, and the 
 whole house was suggestive of neglect and decay. 
 The long mirror set into the wall, to reflect, perhaps, 
 the beauties of some vain little senorita of bygone 
 days, was now disfigured by a large crack extending 
 across its face. The carved wooden cupid, which 
 had once occupied a conspicuous position on its top, 
 was now enjoying an armless repose, covered with 
 dust and cobwebs, in one corner of the room. Upon 
 the cane bottom of the bed was a straw matting, 
 crumpled and badly soiled. No other bedding was 
 needed by the man who lay there, fully dressed, and 
 on whose face the perspiration stood out in large 
 beads. 
 
 As he slowly recovered the use of his faculties, 
 there came to Senor Jose a physical and mental pang 
 simultaneously. This is not an unusual combination 
 of visitors with a man who has spent the night in 
 dissipation. Together with the recollection of his 
 losses at cards the evening before, he felt a sharp 
 pain, which seemed to split his head with its violence. 
 He groaned aloud, and presently nature's demand 
 for purer air overcame his lethargy. Staggering to 
 his feet, he crossed unsteadily to the large window, 
 and, pushing it wide open, leaned across the sill, 
 blinded by the dazzling light which flooded the room. 
 
 53
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Outside, the town was still with the stillness of in- 
 tense heat; a silence which surpassed that of mid- 
 night. The commercial activity which comes with 
 dawn in the tropics had subsided, and even the 
 dogs were quiet. As his eyes became more accus- 
 tomed to the light, and the fierce pain in his head 
 settled into a dull ache, he glanced vacantly about 
 him. 
 
 Mispall's house was located upon a long and dusty 
 highway near the outskirts of the town. A few 
 other dwellings of nipa lined the road on either side, 
 and then came the open country, the rich hacienda 
 lands, and, far beyond, the blue mountains. A herd 
 of swine those scavengers of the town grunted 
 contentedly beneath a shack across the dusty street, 
 in the middle of which lay a naked little brown boy 
 of three years, playing with a big game chicken. 
 The bird, seemingly perplexed by the silence which 
 reigned, or perhaps anxious to recall to the memory 
 of the dwellers in the street his victory in the cockpit 
 the preceding Sunday, flapped his wings and gave 
 utterance to his high spirits in a shrill crow. 
 
 His attention drawn by the sound, Mispall glanced 
 up the road. His eye traveled past the child and its 
 pet and rested upon the figure of a horseman some 
 distance away, who was riding into the town from 
 
 54
 
 TWO PATRIOTS PLAN A CAMPAIGN 
 
 the direction of one of the mountain villages. He 
 was still too far off to be recognized, but Mispall con- 
 tinued to watch him idly, as his thoughts reverted to 
 his trouble. 
 
 He had just begun to recognize the disagreeable 
 fact that he could not hope to keep off any longer the 
 final hour of settlement. His creditors had been 
 exceedingly pressing of late, and he owed many 
 gambling debts, beside a host of others more legiti- 
 mately contracted. A man may run through a 
 fortune without feeling any very severe pang until 
 he reaches the end, but the hour comes at length 
 when the last dollar is gone; when the daily neces- 
 sary expenditures have only an empty pocket to be 
 met from, and he then realizes what the word " ruin " 
 means. That moment, with its attendant horrors, 
 had now come to Mispall, and the temptation to 
 crime, which comes with it to weak natures, was rap- 
 idly drawing near. It was coming in the person of 
 the solitary horseman approaching from the moun- 
 tains and urging his jaded horse forward through a 
 cloud of dust. 
 
 " What shall I do ? " Mispall muttered to himself, 
 pressing a hot hand against his aching head. As 
 tho in answer to the query, the horseman drew 
 
 near and, looking up, recognized Mispall. 
 
 55
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Buenas dias, Jose," he called gaily, waving his 
 hand. " May one enter ? " 
 
 " Come up," replied Mispall, returning the salu- 
 tation as he recognized the other to be one Bernar- 
 dino Rigon, chief of a small band of insurgents who 
 were entrenched in the jungle some twenty miles 
 inland from Silay. As Mizpall recognized him, there 
 came to him a possible solution of his difficulty a 
 solution in itself hazardous, but desperate men are 
 ever ready to try desperate remedies ; a solution that 
 was criminal, but men who lead idle and dissolute 
 lives are apt to find it a short path which leads from 
 idleness to crime, and one down which, when driven 
 by poverty, it is only too easy to turn. More idle 
 men might take this path than do were their need as 
 pressing as MispalPs. 
 
 El Capitan Rigon was a dual character and en- 
 joyed the part hugely. His nature was essentially 
 dramatic in its tendencies, and the double role of 
 hacendero and insurgent was one that delighted him. 
 His ears were not as accustomed to the hum of bullets 
 as were his shoulders to the gorgeous pair of gold 
 shoulder straps which formed a conspicuous part of 
 his showy uniform. He was a rake of an agreeable 
 sort, who liked to play at war provided he had some 
 secure place from which to direct the movement of 
 
 56
 
 TWO PATRIOTS PLAN A CAMPAIGN 
 
 his force and two or three underlings to write for 
 him the stilted letters which he was in the habit of 
 sending to the other insurgent officers in Negros and 
 Panay. 
 
 On the present occasion he was attired in a suit of 
 white linen; looking, despite his early morning ride, 
 very fresh and clean. As he dismounted and gave 
 his horse to one of Mispall's servants, he hummed 
 gaily an air from one of the comic operas in which, 
 as the best singer in the town, he had once taken a 
 leading role. As he advanced and ascended the 
 stairway he twirled with one hand a meager, black 
 mustache, the pride and at the same time the dis- 
 appointment of his life. His two great ambitions 
 were to be a general and to own a pair of mustaches 
 such as he had once seen in a picture of the King of 
 Italy. In both of which he was destined to disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 He extended his hand to Jose, who had come to the 
 head of the stairs to meet him, and they exchanged 
 an effusive greeting. 
 
 " I am glad to see you," said Mispall. 
 
 " Your pleasure is reciprocated, my friend," re- 
 plied the debonair captain, flecking the dust from 
 his boots with his riding-whip. " Have you break- 
 fasted?" 
 
 57
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Not yet. You will join me ? " 
 
 " With pleasure. You are late this morning." 
 
 " Say late last night, rather." 
 
 " You were at the house of Isidro Paris ? " 
 
 " Yes. How did you know ? " 
 
 " News travels fast sometimes. I am sorry." 
 
 " You are unusually sympathetic," said Mispall 
 with a slight sneer, as they took their seats. He 
 poured out a cup of chocolate and waved his hand 
 toward the pot, inviting Eigon to help himself. Old 
 Benita, who was still reminded of Mispall's brutality 
 by a sharp pain in her side, having brought in the 
 breakfast tray, withdrew to the other side of the 
 room and began to wipe off a chair with a dirty rag. 
 
 " You over-estimate my concern for your welfare," 
 replied Rigon coolly, pouring out his chocolate and 
 eating a rice cake with relish, for his ride had made 
 him hungry. " I am sorry you lost, for your own 
 sake, but I think of myself first from force of habit. 
 I want some of the money you owe me." 
 
 " Well, you know I haven't it. I will repay you 
 when I can." 
 
 " You owe others, too; will you pay me first ? " 
 
 " Certainly. Can you doubt it ? " 
 
 " One finds it easy to doubt." 
 
 Mispall's small eyes glittered with an unfriendly 
 58
 
 TWO PATRIOTS PLAN A CAMPAIGN 
 
 light, and he started to make a retort, but controlled 
 the impulse. He had good reason for not wishing 
 to quarrel with the man to whom he looked for aid 
 in a desperate enterprise. He leaned across the 
 board, smearing his elbow in the can of obnoxious 
 butter, and whispered insinuatingly : 
 
 " If I thought I could trust you " 
 
 Rigon put down his cup and returned the other's 
 glance. 
 
 " What do you mean ? Get farther away ; your 
 breath is offensive." 
 
 Mispall leaned back in his chair and folded his 
 arms. 
 
 " I mean," he continued, " that there is a way by 
 which I can get the money, and more, too a way to 
 make us both rich if you will aid me." 
 
 As Rigon did not reply immediately, Mispall 
 continued : " What, think you, should be the fate 
 of a man who, while our countryman, is our coun- 
 try's enemy? Who is a traitor, and wants the 
 Americanos to govern thinking us unfit to gov- 
 ern ourselves? Voicing this treachery before a 
 lot of American officers. What should be the fate 
 of such a man ? " 
 
 " Death ! " said Rigon, as dramatically as was pos- 
 sible with his mouth full of rice cake. 
 
 59
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 "Ah, yes; you say truly." Mispall, leaning 
 forward once more, continued : " He should be 
 killed; his life is a sacrifice, he being an enemy, 
 and worse than that a traitor. Now, how about 
 his money ? " 
 
 " Who is he, and how much has he ? " asked 
 Rigon, coming to the point at once, now that money 
 was mentioned. 
 
 Mispall did not heed the interruption. " What 
 does our country need so much as money," he pur- 
 sued; " money with which to buy arms and cartridges 
 and " he added diplomatically " with which to 
 pay the salaries of her officers ? " 
 
 Rigon was not slow to see the drift of the other's 
 argument. " What is it that you propose ? " he 
 asked, taking another rice cake. He had seen 
 enough of soldiering to show him that a breakfast 
 was not a thing to be despised, even in the weightiest 
 of councils. 
 
 " I wonder," continued Mispall, musingly, looking 
 at the other as though to read his character and gage 
 the depth of his patriotism ; " I wonder whether you 
 are one to look upon a matter broadly whether you 
 could be made to see that the end justifies the 
 means ? " 
 
 Rigon stopped eating and looked the other steadily 
 60
 
 TWO PATRIOTS PLAN A CAMPAIGN 
 
 in the eye. " I will consider any proposition which 
 means money," he said at length. 
 
 " Good ! Then listen." Mispall leaned across 
 the table and lowered his voice. As he opened his 
 lips to speak, he noticed for the first time that Benita 
 had not left the room. " I can't talk here," he said, 
 rising, and indicating her with a jerk of his head. 
 " Come into my room." 
 
 Eigon gulped down what remained of the choco- 
 late, and then followed Mispall into the room in 
 which the latter had passed the night. 
 
 Jose closed the door and locked it on the inside. 
 When he had done so, Benita crossed the hall silently 
 and applied her ear to the keyhole. For a long time 
 she crouched there, and then, rising, hurried to the 
 head of the stairway. Here she paused for a mo- 
 ment, as though uncertain whether to go or stay. At 
 this moment the door of the bedroom was opened 
 and the head of her master thrust forth. 
 
 " What are you doing there, you old devil ? " he 
 demanded roughly. 
 
 She hesitated no longer, but left the house and 
 crossed the Plaza to the building in which the Amer- 
 ican garrison was quartered. 
 
 61
 
 Chapter V 
 ONE CASUALTY 
 
 the afternoon of the day following Mis- 
 pall's conference with Rigon the rainy season 
 descended upon the island, and in the course 
 of a few hours the dry, dusty roads became sodden 
 with a heavy, black mud. The travelers who ven- 
 tured forth found them well-nigh impassable owing 
 to this mud, which clung in great clods to their 
 horses' hoofs and made each step a labored effort. 
 Across the Straits the wind drove the rain in blinding 
 gusts, and at noon the day was as dark as the twilight 
 of the dry months. At rare intervals there would 
 come a break in the heavy clouds, and then the sun 
 would shine fiercely through, drawing the moisture 
 from earth and foliage in a heavy steam. 
 
 The streets of the villages were by no means de- 
 serted because of the downpour. The huge bath sup- 
 plied by nature was taken advantage of by scores of 
 sturdily-built children, who ran naked about the 
 streets, reveling in the cool shower which fell upon
 
 ONE CASUALTY 
 
 their black heads and ran in rivulets down their little 
 bronze bodies. 
 
 The days, dark and gloomy, were fit precursors 
 of the black, tempestuous nights. The entire ab- 
 sence of street lights and the thick window-panes in 
 the better class of houses made the towns almost as 
 dark as the country. 
 
 At about eleven o'clock on the night following the 
 events recorded in the last chapter, Lieutenant Tay- 
 lor marched stealthily out of Silay at the head of a 
 detachment of twenty-two men, and took the road to 
 the Paris hacienda. 
 
 The night was so dark that the men, who plodded 
 patiently along in single file, could not see five feet 
 in advance. The road was long and heavy, and the 
 errand did not promise to be very successful. Most 
 of the men had been on more than one similar expe- 
 dition, and, while they did not know their objective 
 point, they were prepared for an all-night march in 
 the rain, no fight, and no breakfast. 
 
 They did not grumble, however. Occasionally one 
 of them would miss his footing and fall headlong in 
 the soft mud; a low curse would be heard, followed 
 by a laugh at the man's expense from his comrades 
 a laugh in which he joined, usually, as he picked him- 
 self up and struggled bravely onward. 
 
 63
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 When they were within half a mile of their des- 
 tination Taylor gave the command to halt for a brief 
 rest. The road which had seemed so short when 
 ridden over in the moonlight two nights before had 
 seemed interminable now. The men threw them- 
 selves upon the ground, for their clothes were so wet 
 that they would have sat cheerfully upon the bed of 
 a stream. In the darkness it was impossible for 
 them to distinguish each other's features. The four 
 or five who formed the rear-guard huddled together 
 beneath the scant shelter afforded by a dwarf palm 
 and conversed cheerfully in a low tone. 
 
 " Is Sergeant Cassidy there ? " inquired a voice 
 from the darkness. 
 
 " I am that. Did yez iver know me to absint me- 
 self from th' post av juty ? " 
 
 " Gi' me a chew tobacco." 
 
 Cassidy thrust his wet hand into his wet pocket 
 and drew forth a wet and moldy plug of tobacco. 
 With the trusting guilelessness of a recruit he held 
 it forth into the darkness. It was seized upon, and 
 before it was restored to its owner's pocket had passed 
 around the circle. The entire rear-guard was pro- 
 vided for. They chewed silently, and expectorated 
 freely upon each other's leggins and shoes in the 
 
 darkness. 
 
 64
 
 ONE CASUALTY 
 
 " In all me milit'ry expeerience," said Cassidy, as 
 he wofully felt of what remained of his plug, " I 
 niver knew annything so damn mean. Why can't 
 you fellows bring your own tobacco do yez expect 
 me t' supply th' hull outfit? " 
 
 " Never mind, Sergeant ; we'll be back in Silay in 
 the morning." 
 
 " Will we, indeed, now ? An', do ye know, some 
 av us may be in kingdom come by th' mornin'. An' 
 if we're not, maybe we won't be in Silay, annyway. 
 Take my advice, and never lave quarters ag'in with- 
 out a plug av tobacco. Devil a bit will I lend in the 
 future." 
 
 " Oh, me ! I vish I vas dead ! " exclaimed a 
 voice. 
 
 " Who iver it is that sed that, I cuncur in th' sinti- 
 ment," rejoined Cassidy. " Who is it ? " 
 
 " Me ! " It was Redder who spoke, and he was 
 the most pessimistic man in the Silay detachment. 
 
 " What's th' matter wid you now ? " 
 
 " I'm dired of all dis hikin' aboud de coundry in 
 the nighd and back again nexd mornin'. I vish I 
 vas home ! " 
 
 " Where is your home on the Bowery ? " 
 
 A low chuckle ran around the circle at this feeble 
 
 sally. The greater the discomfort, the easier these 
 5 65
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 men found it to laugh at such humor as was forth- 
 coming. The man from the mountains of Tennessee 
 next spoke up. " Do you gentlemen wanta know 
 wheah weah bound f oh ? " he asked. 
 
 " Such curiosity on th' part av an enlisted man is 
 conduct t' th' prejudis' av good order an' milit'ry dis- 
 cipline," replied Cassidy, wiping the water from his 
 face and trying to cover the chamber of his rifle with 
 one corner of his rubber poncho. " Do you mean to 
 say the lootenant has took you into his confidence ? " 
 
 " I don't see why they should have all this secrecy 
 about it," exclaimed the Third Avenue recruit, fret- 
 fully. He was just learning the hard side of war 
 the side which does more to make character than 
 battles. 
 
 " You don't, eh ? " said the Irishman. " Well, I'll 
 tell you. If they told you, you'd tell th' lovely 
 young female gurl I seen you talkin' wid this morn- 
 in', an' she'd tell th' hull town ; so that, when we got 
 there wherever it is there'd be no naygurs to 
 fight." 
 
 " Dere von't be none, anyhow," said Redder. 
 " Dere neber is none." 
 
 " Shut up, Redder," replied Cassidy. " For an 
 old soldier, you make me tired. Do you want to dis- 
 courage us ? "
 
 ONE CASUALTY 
 
 Sergeants Cassidy and Redder were inseparable, 
 and were always at odds conversationally. They 
 often shared the same blanket when on field service, 
 but never the same views or opinions in camp or 
 quarters. They had begun by enlisting together 
 some twelve years before, and had served together 
 ever since. They generally received their discharges 
 on the same day, made sundry remarks to the deroga- 
 tion of the army as a profession, and declared their 
 intention of leaving it for good. At the end of three 
 months they would be back in a recruiting office, 
 anxious to be sent to " the old regiment." Side by 
 side they had gone through an Indian campaign, the 
 Spanish war, and the Philippine unpleasantness. 
 
 " Ah know wheah weah goin'," continued the man 
 from the mountains of Tennessee. " Weah just goin' 
 out to ole Paris's place. Ah heard th' ole woman 
 that's washin' fer the officers tell Everton abaout it." 
 
 " Everton's a gentleman soldier," said the recruit 
 sneeringly. 
 
 " An' what if he is," demanded Cassidy angrily. 
 " He's more av a soldier in wan minit than you'll be 
 in your whole life, you dirty rookie, you." 
 
 The recruit made no reply, but sat shivering and 
 nursing his resentment. He had prepared himself 
 for the night's work with whisky, and was therefore 
 
 67
 
 D4NIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 used up long before the work began. His devotion 
 to the cigarette a delicacy which could not be en- 
 joyed in his present circumstances forbade him the 
 solace of chewing tobacco; to which, in its proper 
 time and place, there is no equal. 
 
 The rain had held up for a few moments and now 
 began again. As the first heavy drops fell upon the 
 hand of the man from Tennessee he asked in an ag- 
 grieved tone, " Is it rainin' again ? " 
 
 " Such a proseedure on th' part av nature," said 
 Cassidy, who was addicted to a somewhat stilted style 
 of speech, " would not in th' least surprise me." 
 
 " Id's always rainin', Cassidy, an' you know id," 
 said Redder. 
 
 " You make me tired ! " responded his comrade. 
 " You found it too cold in Alaska, an' now you find 
 it too hot in th' Philippeenes. Damn me if I don't 
 think you're onraysonible." 
 
 " Oh, the Irish an' th' Dutch, 
 They don't amount to much ! " 
 
 It was a little Yankee from somewhere in the hills 
 of Vermont who recited these lines in a sing-song 
 voice. It had a dampening effect on the conversa- 
 tion, and before it could be resumed Taylor's voice 
 
 68
 
 ONE CASUALTT 
 
 rang out sharply in the command to move forward. 
 The men struggled wearily to their feet, fell in, and 
 resumed the march. The little column moved 
 on silently and turned up the driveway leading to 
 the hacienda. When they were within a few hun- 
 dred yards of the house Taylor stumbled over a dog, 
 which was sleeping in the middle of the road. The 
 cur set up a mournful howl, which was taken up 
 directly by a score of others. In a moment the whole 
 canine population of the neighborhood was yelping 
 excitedly. 
 
 " Do you think they will hear that ? " asked Tay- 
 lor, speaking in a low tone to Everton, who was 
 marching by his side. 
 
 " I don't think so, sir. They probably won't get 
 down here before half -past one or two. If they did 
 hear it, they wouldn't necessarily suspect anything. 
 These dogs bark at everything." A few minutes 
 later they arrived at the house, and Taylor, halting 
 the detachment, made a hurried survey of the field. 
 
 Two roads led in to the hacienda from up country. 
 The one to the north was the one which, in Taylor's 
 estimation, the attacking party would be the more 
 apt to take. Giving the order to fall in in double 
 ranks, he divided his force into two parties of eleven 
 men each, and taking one of these placed it in am-
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 bush, behind a low wall, on this road. From their 
 position they commanded a good sweep of the ap- 
 proach for about fifty yards. Everton took the other 
 half of the detachment and placed them in a similar 
 ambuscade on the other road. In five minutes from 
 the time they reached the house the whole force was 
 disposed of and lay waiting. 
 
 The hours dragged slowly on, and there was- no 
 sign of the enemy. The rain continued to fall in tor- 
 Brents, drenching the men, who lay motionless, their 
 bodies partly under water in the ditch. From under 
 their rubber ponchos the barrels of their Krag-Jor- 
 gensens were leveled down the road. The strictest 
 silence was, of course, enjoined, and the only relaxa- 
 tion to be had was the chewing of tobacco. 
 
 Sergeants Everton and Cassidy lay side by side, 
 their shoulders touching, and the rain running from 
 the brim of the Irishman's hat onto the shoulder of 
 his comrade. Both strained their eyes into the dark- 
 ness until they ached, without seeing anything. 
 
 At last, when the night was far advanced, and they 
 had about given up hope of having even a shot at 
 the enemy, Cassidy leaned over and, placing his lips 
 close to Everton's ear, whispered : " TheV coomin' ! " 
 
 " How do you know? " The question was put in 
 a faint whisper, just loud enough to be audible. 
 
 70
 
 ONE CASUALTY 
 
 " I seen wan av th' butees light a cigareet. 
 They've halted about three hundred yards down th' 
 road beyandt. Ther'll be a man up directly to ray- 
 connoiter." 
 
 " Pass the word to lay low and keep quiet." 
 
 " I will/' murmured Cassidy. " An' a foine 
 state av affairs in th' rigler army when such a 
 caution is necessary ! " he muttered under his 
 breath. 
 
 It was now nearly three o'clock, and the night was 
 lighter. There was a moon hidden away somewhere 
 behind the heavy, black clouds, and as their dark 
 masses drifted by overhead, driven by the strong, 
 southerly wind, a sort of ghostly twilight filtered 
 through the rifts. In one of these moments of half 
 light Everton discerned a solitary horseman riding 
 slowly toward them. It was Rigon. 
 
 " Here comes th' brigadier-gineral commandin'. 
 I've a mind t' pot him now, an' make sure. He may 
 be in th' rear whin th' fun begins," whispered Cas- 
 sidy, as the native halted within a few feet of them 
 and leaned forward in the saddle, peering into the 
 darkness toward the house. He was happily un- 
 conscious of the ten rifles leveled at his chest and 
 the ten strong fingers on their hair triggers. For 
 some time he sat motionless, looking like an appari- 
 
 71
 
 DANIEL EFERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 tion in his white clothes; then, wheeling about, he 
 disappeared into the darkness. 
 
 As he vanished the men drew a sigh of relief. The 
 tension of the silence they had preserved had been 
 severe. The recruit's teeth were chattering in his 
 head from cold and suppressed excitement. The 
 hour he had waited for so long, when he should actu- 
 ally smell powder in action, seemed to be at hand. 
 In his heart he was not altogether glad that he had 
 come. 
 
 Everton lay motionless as a statue, straining his 
 eyes down the road. Cassidy softly turned the cut- 
 off of his rifle to the extreme left, ran the bolt for- 
 ward and back once, to assure himself that it was 
 working properly, and pushed a cartridge into the 
 chamber. Then he took a fresh chew of tobacco and 
 waited. In the darkness his eyes sparkled. 
 
 The moments which followed dragged on slowly, 
 as those moments do which come just before the first 
 shots of an engagement are fired. The night con- 
 tinued to grow lighter and the rain continued to fall ; 
 not with the wind-driven fury of the earlier evening, 
 but with a steady, persistent downpour, which chilled 
 the recruit to the bone and made even Cassidy set 
 his teeth a trifle closer on his tobacco. Suddenly 
 
 the queer hoot of a tree lizard, sharp and rasping, 
 
 72
 
 ONE CASUALTY 
 
 broke out in the stillness, and from far off on the 
 Silay highroad there came the faint barking of 
 a dog. 
 
 The croaking of that lizard and the barking of 
 that dog were sounds which lingered in Daniel Ever- 
 ton's ears long afterwards. They remained indelibly 
 stamped upon his memory as being associated with 
 his last experience as a soldier. They marked, in- 
 deed, the ending of one stage of his life's journey 
 and the beginning of another. 
 
 When about twenty minutes had elapsed, and it 
 seemed to the recruit that he could bear the suspense 
 no longer, he moved slightly and thrust the barrel 
 of his rifle forward. As he was moving it, with his 
 finger upon the trigger and his eyes fixed upon the 
 road, several figures appeared suddenly from out of 
 the darkness, their wet, white clothes giving them 
 the air of very much bedraggled specters in the faint 
 light of the approaching dawn. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fact that the recruit had spent 
 five hours expecting, and alternately hoping for and 
 dreading the coming of the enemy, and that he had 
 rehearsed mentally many times just how they might 
 be expected to come, and what he would do when 
 he saw them, their sudden appearance from out of 
 the darkness of the night was too much for his over- 
 
 73
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 wrought nerves. The finger which pressed the trig- 
 ger of his rifle tightened suddenly, and the piece was 
 discharged with a loud report. The bullet whizzed 
 past Cassidy's ear and traveled on over the heads of 
 the ladrones toward the mountains. 
 
 The advancing party halted in confusion, and 
 Everton, taking advantage of their panic, gave the 
 command to fire. A volley rang out, and he saw 
 Eigon and two others fall as he led the way out of 
 the ditch and charged down the road. 
 
 When the ladrones realized that they had a force 
 and not an individual to deal with, the compact group 
 of white-robed figures broke suddenly and seemed 
 to dissolve into the darkness, as its members scat- 
 tered in every direction. A few of the cooler heads 
 among them preserved sufficient of their presence 
 of mind to kneel and fire a shot in return. All of 
 these shots went wide of the mark but one, and that 
 one passed through Everton's chest just above the 
 heart. He toppled over into the mud and lay there 
 gasping. 
 
 " Cease firing ! " yelled Cassidy an instant later. 
 " What in hell ar' yez shootin' at? " 
 
 The shooting ceased. The last of the ladrones 
 had disappeared, and they were slinking away across 
 the paddy-fields under cover of the darkness. 
 
 74
 
 ONE CASUALTT 
 
 At this juncture Lieutenant Taylor came up with 
 his men to reinforce the others. Pursuit of the 
 enemy on such a night was out of the question, so 
 very tenderly they picked up the wounded man and 
 carried him into the house. There was a minute 
 hole in his blue shirt, and around it the dull red stain 
 was deepening momentarily. 
 
 Just as the day was breaking, and what would 
 have been a glorious sunrise in the dry season, but 
 was only a dull, gray twilight now, was bringing into 
 view the sodden cane fields, beaten and trampled 
 upon by the rain as by an army, the door of Paris's 
 room opened and Dr. Fairchild came out. Taylor 
 and Paris sat in the great hall, the khaki uniform 
 of the former stained with the mud and clay in 
 which he had lain the greater part of the night. 
 The old planter was attired in his sleeping garments, 
 a suit of white pajamas, which seemed to differ in 
 no way from the ones he had worn at dinner two 
 nights before. On the stand in front of them were 
 a bottle of whisky and several glasses. The doctor, 
 whose clothes were, like those of his friend, wringing 
 wet, advanced to the table, and pouring out a stiff 
 drink, tossed it off. Putting the glass back on the 
 table, he said briefly : " He's got a chance." 
 
 75
 
 DANIEL EYERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 " Do you think so ? " asked Taylor in reply, his 
 face brightening. " It looked pretty bad to me." 
 
 " It's a Mauser wound through the left lung. 
 Fortunate for him that it wasn't one of those brass 
 Remingtons. If it had been, it would be all night 
 with him." 
 
 " I suppose he'll have to stay here ? " 
 
 " For the present, certainly. If all goes well, you 
 might move him in to quarters in a week or so. 
 Everything depends now on his being kept quiet. 
 I'll stay here until you can send out one of the hos- 
 pital men. You'd better send Brown." 
 
 " Well, then, I think we'll start back." 
 
 " Don't be in any hurry about Brown," said Fair- 
 child. " I can stay here until evening. I think 
 I'll turn in now and get some sleep." 
 
 While Fairchild had been dressing Everton's 
 wound, as well as that of the only wounded enemy 
 who had fallen, Paris had provided the men with 
 a comfortable breakfast; so that when they fell in, 
 in response to Taylor's command, and resumed the 
 march back to Silay, they looked upon life from the 
 standpoint of a full stomach. They conversed cheer- 
 fully as they plodded back through the thick mud. 
 
 " If 'twasn't fer losin' Everton," said Cassidy, as 
 
 he readjusted his gun-sling so as to throw his rifle 
 
 76
 
 ONE CASUALTY 
 
 across his broad back, " I'd be well satisfied with th' 
 raysult av th' night's wurk. Four dead naygurs, 
 wan av which is a captain-gineral, iv'ry night, wud 
 soon impriss upon th' oncivilized inhabitants th' 
 determination av th' United States t' befrind thim." 
 
 " I hopes ve don'd lose Everdon," said Kedder. 
 
 " An' so do I ; but if we shud so be it. As th' 
 great JSTavpoleon sez, ' ye can't hav' ham omelets 
 without breakin' eggs an' killin' pork. Speakin' av 
 pork, I've a word to say t' th' rookie who fired off 
 his gun without bein' toldt to, an' so sp'iled wan of 
 th' decissive battles av hist'ry th' 'leventh, I believe 
 it wud have bin." 
 
 " I couldn't help it," said the Third Avenue re- 
 cruit, sulkily. " I had my hand on the trigger, and 
 it went off accidentally." 
 
 " He didn't know it war loaded," explained the 
 man from Tennessee. 
 
 " Well, th' nixt time you want t' have wan av 
 thim accidents," continued Cassidy, " I ricommind, 
 in th' interests av th' servis, that you have th' muzzle 
 ag'in your own chist and not ag'in my ear." 
 
 " I didn't know it was near your ear," said the 
 recruit in a choking voice, for he was on the verge 
 of tears. 
 
 "Didn't you indade, now? Well, th' conscious- 
 77
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 niss av' your good intintions mid be very comfortin' 
 t' th' families av anny wan af us what happens t' 
 be made a corpse av be your ignorance as t' where 
 yer gun's p'intin' at. But always raymimbir thot 
 nixt t' salutin' an officer, there's nothin' so important 
 as not shoo tin' yer own min." 
 
 The ball of ridicule, set rolling by the good- 
 humored Cassidy, was kept in motion by the other 
 men, so that before they reached Silay the recruit, 
 whose lack of discipline had spoiled the chance of 
 a possible fight, was on the verge of suicide. He had 
 in him the making of a good soldier, but the making 
 of a soldier out of such raw material is never a gentle 
 process. 
 
 78
 
 Chapter VI 
 MARSHALL EVERTON RECEIVES A CALL 
 
 an oppressively hot evening in Septem- 
 ber, three months after the skirmish with 
 Rigon's band at the Paris hacienda, an old 
 man walked slowly up Madison Avenue, his head 
 bowed and his eyes on the pavement at his feet. 
 He was dressed with great care, a fact which made 
 it apparent to the observing passersby that he had 
 not lacked assistance in making his toilet. Men of 
 forty may preserve an immaculate exterior without 
 the aid of a valet, but when one who is close upon 
 seventy is found as scrupulously garbed as his grand- 
 sons, it usually indicates that the services of that 
 useful domestic have not been dispensed with. 
 
 The city seemed the hotter for the hush which 
 had fallen upon it with the close of day. During 
 the busy hours, with the rush and turmoil of traffic, 
 there had been in its active, aggressive life some- 
 thing to distract him from the heat of day ; but now 
 that the comparative quiet of evening had fallen 
 
 79
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 upon the broad avenues with their rows of deserted 
 residences, the old man became painfully conscious 
 of a weakness and lassitude. 
 
 He was occupied with his own reflections, and if 
 his face was in any way indicative of them, they 
 must have been far from agreeable. He was clean- 
 shaven, and the refined lips were compressed tightly. 
 It was the mouth of a weak man, who was aware 
 of his own weakness and desirous of combating it. 
 
 He walked with the persistent, jerky step pecu- 
 liar to old men, who think that unless they do their 
 five or six miles each day they will lose forever 
 their hold upon youth and vitality and fall into a 
 decline; by this means not infrequently hastening 
 the very decline they seek to avoid. 
 
 As he passed one of the side streets he was run 
 into and nearly overturned by a small urchin, flee- 
 ing madly down the avenue, shrieking out the details 
 of an unusually revolting murder. Under the little 
 gamin's arm were several crumpled copies of one of 
 those daily journals which are as soiled, morally, on 
 leaving the press as they are materially after they 
 have passed through half-a-dozen pairs of unwashed 
 hands. The vendor was endowed with a deep and 
 penetrating voice, with which he summed up the 
 
 ghastly details of the affair, indicating that for the 
 
 80
 
 MARSHALL EPERTON RECEIVES A CALL 
 
 moderate price of a penny the respectable looking 
 old man could have all the details of the horror, to 
 take home and enjoy at his leisure. 
 
 It was a small body, but it had been impelled with 
 considerable force, and as the arab disentangled 
 himself and pursued his wild course down town, in 
 search of a purchaser for his sensation, the old man, 
 overcome with the heat and shock, stood trembling 
 and looking up at the houses. Their unfamiliar 
 aspect caused him to wipe his glasses and mutter 
 to himself, " Dear me ! Dear me ! I must have 
 passed the house." Turning, he retraced his steps 
 for two blocks, and then ascended the steps of a 
 brownstone dwelling. Feeling for his keys, only to 
 find that he had left them in his office, he rang the 
 bell. 
 
 The summons was answered so quickly as to in- 
 dicate that the portly, middle-aged butler who opened 
 the door had been anxiously awaiting his master's 
 return. 
 
 " You seem tired, Mr. Everton," he said. " I 
 am afraid you have walked too far." 
 
 "Eh? Yes, John; what is it?" replied the old 
 man querulously. 
 
 " I said that dinner is ready when you care to 
 
 have it served, sir," replied John, who saw no good 
 6 81
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 in carrying veracity too far on some occasions. He 
 took the hat and stick, placed them upon the hat- 
 rack, and quickly brought forward a small salver, 
 on which was a glass of brandy beaten up with an 
 
 " Drink this, sir," he said, in the half respectful, 
 half authoritative manner which those who have the 
 care of the aged adopt. " It will do you good." 
 
 " Thank you, John," said Mr. Everton. " You 
 are very thoughtful." 
 
 Upon entering the next room, which was used as 
 a study, he found a student lamp burning brightly 
 upon the table, and beside it a copy of the " Evening 
 Post." He sank into the big arm-chair by the table 
 and lay back as though exhausted. 
 
 John stood beside him for some minutes, until the 
 stimulant began to take effect. By degrees Mr. 
 Everton's breathing lost its irregular, exhausted 
 character, and the color came back into the refined, 
 pallid face, on which the perspiration stood out 
 prominently. 
 
 " Well, John ? " he inquired at length, noticing 
 that the servant was still in the room. " What do 
 you want ? " 
 
 " Two ladies called to see you this afternoon,
 
 MARSHALL EVERTON RECEIVES A CALL 
 
 " Two ladies to see me ? " repeated the old man 
 incredulously. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Mrs. Cartwright and Miss Fairchild." 
 
 " Did they leave any message ? " Mr. Everton 
 continued, after a pause of some duration an in- 
 terval which he had employed in thought and in 
 drumming with his thin, white hands upon the arm 
 of his chair. 
 
 " Yes, sir. They said they were passing through 
 town and would call again this evening. Miss Fair- 
 child said she hoped you were well, and that she 
 wished to see you about something very particular. 
 I told them you were nearly always at home in the 
 evenings, sir." 
 
 While John was speaking, Mr. Everton leaned 
 back in his chair and stared vacantly, straight in 
 front of him. There was a half -frightened look on 
 the old man's face, which the fact that a very attract- 
 ive young woman wished to see him seemed hardly 
 to justify. Finally he glanced up at the mantel, and 
 his eyes fell upon the clock, which was ticking nois- 
 ily. Its hands pointed to a quarter before eight. 
 John followed his master's gaze. 
 
 " Shall I serve dinner at once ? " he asked. 
 
 " I shall only require a cup of tea and a piece of 
 dry toast," replied Mr. Everton, who had read some- 
 
 83
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 where that exercise and a light diet would prolong 
 life. 
 
 John's face clouded. His efforts to keep body 
 and soul together in the old man were arduous. " I 
 have a small filet for you, sir, and a clear soup," he 
 said, with the air of one imparting in confidence a 
 secret of state, as he advanced to the side of his mas- 
 ter's chair. " Do try to eat a little of it, sir." 
 
 " It will distress me if I do," replied the old man, 
 decisively. " No; I think just the tea and toast, 
 John; just the tea and toast." 
 
 The servant now had recourse to a strategy, as 
 had often been necessary before. " You see, sir," 
 he said in an insinuating tone, " the servants has 
 begun to talk about your not eatin' enough to keep 
 a bird alive that's how the cook puts it. And if 
 they was to talk like that outside, I'm afraid people 
 might think your health was a failin', sir." 
 
 The ruse was successful, for he had touched his 
 master on his most sensitive point. If there was 
 anything the old man dreaded it was that his neigh- 
 bors should suspect that advance of old age which 
 he was not willing to admit to himself. This 
 thought, combined with the stimulant he had taken, 
 caused him to pull himself together and rise to his 
 
 feet. 
 
 84
 
 MARSHALL EfERTON RECEIVES A CALL 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, John," he said briskly, 
 rubbing his hands together those hands which were 
 always cold, no matter what the heat of the day. 
 " I am apt to forget about eating; but my appetite 
 is as healthy as ever, John as healthy as ever." 
 
 " Of course, sir," assented the delighted servant. 
 " Will you sit down now ? " 
 
 The master sought the dining-room with the same 
 determined step with which he had walked all the 
 way from his office, and ate his soup with trembling 
 hands. As the meal progressed, John saw that his 
 glass was kept full of a rich port, and by deft little 
 maneuvers managed to make him eat a fairly good 
 meal. 
 
 When it was over, Mr. Everton withdrew to the 
 study once more and resumed his arm-chair. John 
 brought in the coffee, and unfolded the paper, as 
 though to remind the old man of his accustomed 
 evening occupation. He hesitated when he had done 
 these things, waiting a chance to speak. 
 
 " Well, John ; what is it ? " inquired the old man, 
 more genially than he had spoken before dinner. 
 
 " I beg pardon, sir; I only wanted to ask whether 
 you have heard anything more from Mr. Daniel ? " 
 There was an anxiety and affection in the speaker's 
 voice as he half timidly made the inquiry. 
 
 85
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " No; not since the doctor cabled that he was out 
 of danger from his wound, but ill with fever." 
 
 " He'll be coming home when he's well, I suppose, 
 sir?" 
 
 " God knows." 
 
 The old servant started at this somewhat remark- 
 able reply, and looked at Mr. Everton anxiously. 
 He spoke again, but as the words left his lips they 
 were drowned in a loud ring at the door-bell. 
 
 " What's that ? " cried Mr. Everton, startled, and 
 trembling visibly. 
 
 " The ladies, come back no doubt. Shall I show 
 them in, sir ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes ; of course. I had forgotten." 
 
 John left the room, and a moment later drew aside 
 the portieres and announced Mrs. Cartwright and 
 Miss Fairchild. 
 
 As the latter advanced to Mr. Everton and held 
 out her hand, the soft light from the student lamp 
 fell upon a graceful form, just above the average 
 height, and upon a face which can best be described 
 as exceptional. The eyes were exceptionally large, 
 and there was a soft depth to them which, if the 
 eyes are in very truth the windows of the soul, gave 
 one the impression that the soul itself was excep- 
 tional. The lips were parted in a slight smile one
 
 MARSHALL EPERTON RECEIVES A CALL 
 
 of those involuntary smiles which have nothing 
 forced about them, and which gently but irresistibly 
 demand a smile in return. Her forehead was high, 
 and the upper part of her face suggested thought, 
 as the lower did feeling. Around the smooth, white 
 surface the hair grew prettily. It was of a brown 
 which in certain lights becomes golden and again 
 almost red. 
 
 She was very handsome, with the beauty of char- 
 acter, and yet there was none of the regularity of 
 feature which constitutes the conventional type of 
 beauty from an artist's standpoint. 
 
 If one met her he would retain and sometimes 
 retain for a very long time the impression that she 
 was beautiful, and yet if he had seen her photograph 
 he would have passed it by unnoticed. The greatest 
 beauties of the human face are only perceptible to 
 the human eye. The cold eye of the camera fails 
 to record them. 
 
 Mr. Everton bowed over her hand with a grave 
 courtesy. " I am sorry to have put you to the in- 
 convenience of a second call," he said. " If you 
 had left word where you were stopping I 
 should " 
 
 " It is no trouble," she replied, interrupting him, 
 it being one of the very rare cases in which an 
 
 87
 
 DANIEL EYERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 interruption is civil rather than rude. " Let me 
 present you to my cousin, Mrs. Cartwright. Laura, 
 this is Mr. Everton, my trustee." 
 
 Miss Fairchild's eyes were upon the other woman 
 as she spoke, so that she failed to notice the little 
 spasm which passed over Mr. Everton' s face at the 
 mention of the word " trustee." By the time they 
 were seated it had passed. He leaned back in his 
 chair and clasped his hands together. 
 
 " It is early for you to be in town," he said at 
 length, after waiting a moment for his visitors to 
 begin the conversation. 
 
 " Yes," replied Constance, drawing off her glove 
 and adjusting one of her rings. " But we are here 
 for the day only. I wanted to see you on a matter 
 of some importance, and Mrs. Cartwright wanted to 
 do some shopping." 
 
 " I am at your service, at any time," replied Mr. 
 Everton, clasping his thin hands a little tighter to- 
 gether and compressing his lips firmly, as though 
 dreading the fall of some sword of Damocles. 
 "What can I do for you?" 
 
 Miss Fairchild gave him a glimpse of her fine 
 white teeth in a merry little laugh. " Something 
 that will surprise you," she said. " So be prepared 
 for a shock." 
 
 88
 
 I am sorry to have put you to 
 the inconvenience of a second 
 call," he said
 
 MARSHALL EVERTON RECEIVES A CALL 
 
 Mr. Everton was relieved, and smiled in return. 
 There could be no sword of Damocles in what she 
 was about to say, since she could laugh at the thought 
 of it 
 
 " I am all impatience," he observed. " What is 
 it?" 
 
 " I want to go to the Philippines," replied Con- 
 stance. 
 
 Mr. Everton was dumfounded. If his attractive 
 young ward had announced her intention of taking 
 an outing in the wilds of Thibet he could not have 
 been more so. To him the Philippines were a group 
 of islands swimming in blood and overrun by war. 
 The inhabitants were savages, and the climate was 
 deadly to all but the aforesaid savages. He had a 
 son out there, and that son had recently been 
 wounded nigh unto death. That his ward should 
 contemplate exposing her fair young person to a 
 similar fate was inexplicable to him. 
 
 " To the Philippines ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes, certainly," replied his ward. " Why not ? 
 Mrs. Cartwright is going out to join her husband, 
 a major in the Sixth Artillery, and I have had a 
 letter from Dick, saying that he is ordered to the 
 Second Reserve hospital. Mrs. Cartwright will have 
 a house in Manila, so I shall be taken care of." 
 
 89
 
 DANIEL E7ERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " But is it safe ? " inquired Mr. Everton, dubiously. 
 
 Up to this time Mrs. Major Cartwright, as she was 
 known to the inhabitants of various military posts 
 she had commanded, had taken no part in the con- 
 versation. This was in no way due to any natural 
 diffidence, but rather to her loss of breath. Like a 
 veteran campaigner, she had husbanded all her re- 
 sources for the time when she should begin to talk. 
 This time had now come. 
 
 " Safe ? My dear Mr. Everton ! " she exclaimed. 
 " Why, of course it is, and has been for months. 
 There are any amount of American ladies in Manila. 
 The colonel (Major Cartwright was a lieutenant- 
 colonel by brevet only) has been writing to me by 
 every mail, urging me to join him." 
 
 As a matter of fact, her husband's anxiety if he 
 felt any to have his wife join him had been care- 
 fully concealed. Most of the anxiety had been on 
 Mrs. Cartwright's side, and she had finally wrung 
 from him a consent to her coming out with her 
 daughter, and a reluctant admission that " it was 
 safe enough, and had been all along, for that matter." 
 
 As the major had written those words, he had 
 wished vaguely that the town might be attacked, or 
 the plague break out, or something happen to keep 
 back the autocratic wife, whom he foresaw was soon 
 
 90
 
 MARSHALL EfERTON RECEIVES A CALL 
 
 to come out and put an end to the first period of rest 
 he had known for ten years. The sound of volley 
 firing " out on the lines " had grown fainter, as the 
 insurgent force had retreated farther and farther up 
 country, and had finally died away, but the over- 
 powering voice of Mrs. Cartwright was clamoring 
 to be heard, and the hour of submission was at hand. 
 So he had sent the letter, and was even now enjoying 
 the last days of his freedom. 
 
 " You see, Mr. Everton," continued Constance, 
 " the fighting has all taken place outside of Manila. 
 It's quite safe in the town itself." 
 
 " There was a battle in Manila last February," 
 persisted the old man. He was unused to war, and 
 the advisability of a woman's going in September to 
 a city which had been a scene of a battle in February 
 was by no means evident to his mind. 
 
 " The first outbreak, of course," rejoined Mrs. 
 Cartwright. " But the enemy were driven out then 
 and have never been back since." 
 
 " I should consider the hostilities now in progress 
 in the Philippines an objectionable feature espe- 
 cially for ladies traveling alone." 
 
 " We do not propose to travel about the country, 
 and I assure you, Mr. Everton, the town is quite safe. 
 
 Colonel Cartwright would not think of exposing me 
 
 91
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 to any danger. You may make your mind quite 
 easy on that score." 
 
 " But the climate " Mr. Everton protested, 
 thinking of the cyclones which lift up great ships 
 and carry them miles inland, and also of the plague 
 and kindred disorders. 
 
 " Much better than it is represented," affirmed 
 Mrs. Cartwright, who had never been there. " Quite 
 enjoyable in the right season or at least so I am 
 informed." 
 
 " Is this the right season ? " 
 
 " The rains," observed Mrs. Cartwright, who had 
 been reading up on the Philippines, " begin some 
 time between April and July and last until December 
 or January; then the dry season begins." 
 
 Constance counted on her fingers and broke in 
 upon the conversation. " I don't believe it's as bad 
 as that, Cousin Laura; if it is, the mud has hardly 
 time to dry." 
 
 Mr. Everton smiled at this. It amused him to 
 see how the younger woman had dropped out of the 
 discussion as Mrs. Cartwright entered the lists. He 
 looked at the well-poised girl before him and made 
 up his mind that if she had decided to go to the 
 Philippines it was probably not an unwise thing to 
 
 do. Then he looked at Mrs. Cartwright, who was 
 
 92
 
 MARSHALL E7ERTON RECEIVES A CALL 
 
 fat, fifty, and aggressive, and came to the conclu- 
 sion that if there were comforts to be had in Manila 
 she would have them. Altogether, he thought, the 
 two women were not illy adapted to be companions 
 on a journey to a distant, half-civilized land. Then 
 a new difficulty presented itself to his f arseeing, legal 
 mind. 
 
 " Major Cartwright may have to remain out there 
 a number of years," he said. " In that case, how 
 will you get home ? " 
 
 " I had thought of that, of course," replied Con- 
 stance. " You see, my brother's contract expires in 
 five months and he will not renew it. When he 
 wrote, suggesting that I come out, he said that he 
 would bring me home through India, to Europe, in 
 the spring." 
 
 " You see how beautifully Constance has arranged 
 it all," said Mrs. Cartwright. "Do give your consent, 
 Mr. Everton. There are already many American 
 women in Manila, and I assure you it's quite safe." 
 
 " It is not a case in which my consent is necessary, 
 Mrs. Cartwright," he replied. " I am not Miss Fair- 
 child's guardian, but merely her trustee. She is at 
 liberty to do as she wishes in all matters. I merely 
 have the honor of supplying her with funds from 
 
 time to time." 
 
 93
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Does that mean that you would refuse your con- 
 sent if it was necessary ? " inquired Constance, with 
 a pretty, defiant toss of her head. 
 
 " By no means," said Mr. Everton, smiling. " I 
 confess that of late I have not followed the progress 
 of events in the Philippines very closely. However, 
 since you have, and are not afraid to go, I have noth- 
 ing to say." 
 
 There was a short pause in the conversation, dur- 
 ing which Constance examined one of the rings on 
 her hand critically. She was thinking over what 
 she wished to say. After a moment's consideration 
 she inquired: " Speaking of the Philippines; what 
 do you hear from your son ? " 
 
 " From Daniel ? Nothing of late. You know he 
 was very dangerously wounded about three months 
 ago. When last I heard he was out of danger. 
 That was three weeks ago." 
 
 Constance was sitting with her face to the student 
 lamp. When Mr. Everton referred to his son hav- 
 ing been wounded, the hand which was playing with 
 the ring went up as though to shade the soft, brown 
 eyes from the light. It was a simple gesture, which 
 did not convey any meaning to the old man or to 
 Mrs. Cartwright. She covered her eyes for the frac- 
 tion of a minute, and then the hand strayed off to 
 
 94
 
 MARSHALL EVERTON RECEIVES A CALL 
 
 a rebellious lock of brown hair over the small ear, 
 smoothed and arranged it. When it was quite in 
 place she said, quietly and simply : 
 
 " I did not know it and I am very, very 
 sorry." 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright was more profuse in her expres- 
 sions of sympathy. " I can feel for you, dear Mr. 
 Everton," she said. " We, of the army, know how 
 hard such things are to bear. It is a sad thing, this 
 war." 
 
 " I am not of the army," replied Mr. Everton 
 simply; " but it has been hard for me." 
 
 Constance looked at the old man, with eyes that did 
 not see quite clearly. The extreme loneliness and 
 sadness of his lot became apparent to her, and she 
 wished that she had violated the proprieties by 
 leaving Mrs. Cartwright behind at the hotel. She 
 would have liked to say more, but could not trust 
 her voice. 
 
 " You say it is three months since your son was 
 hurt ? " the older woman continued. " Men usually 
 recover from wounds in less time than that unless 
 the wounds are mortal." 
 
 " Ah, yes," assented Mr. Everton; " but he has 
 had a fever." 
 
 " You must forgive me for speaking so lightly of 
 95
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 my own plans when you have such a terrible sorrow 
 on your mind," said Constance. 
 
 He waved his hand with a gesture of courteous 
 depreciation. " It is an old story to me now," he 
 said. " I was not aware that you knew Daniel." 
 
 " I met him two years ago in Eome." 
 
 " I hope you will see him if you go out to the 
 Philippines." 
 
 " I trust so if he is in Manila," replied Con- 
 stance. 
 
 " He is out a short distance from there, on the 
 island of ISTegros." Mr. Everton had very carefully 
 looked up the island in question, in the atlas, and 
 had ascertained that it was the same distance from 
 Manila that Bangor, Maine, is from New York, and 
 based his observation on this knowledge, not con- 
 sidering that the transportation facilities were of a 
 different order. 
 
 " He will receive his discharge as soon as he re- 
 covers," he added. 
 
 " His discharge ! " exclaimed Mrs. Cartwright in 
 amazement. " Do you mean that he is an enlisted 
 man?" 
 
 " He is a sergeant. He was in Cuba, and was 
 promoted afterward." 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright had been too long the wife of an 
 96
 
 MARSHALL EVERTON RECEIVES A CALL 
 
 army officer not to feel surprised at this information. 
 She concealed her curiosity, however, and merely 
 asked : " How did he happen to go into the ranks ? " 
 
 " He preferred to," replied Mr. Everton. " He 
 said he had no military knowledge and did not want 
 a commission. He could have gotten one easily 
 enough." 
 
 " Well, I should hope so. So he is what we call 
 a Volunteer-Regular ? " 
 
 " What is that, Cousin Laura ? " inquired Miss 
 Fairchild. 
 
 " Just what it says, my dear. A soldier who vol- 
 unteered for the war, but enlisted in the regular 
 army." 
 
 " Ah, yes; I see," responded Constance, buttoning 
 her glove. She did not wish to ask any more ques- 
 tions, being aware that Mrs. Cartwright was quick 
 at making inferences. So quick, in fact, that they 
 were usually erroneous when made. " Shall we go 
 now ? " she suggested, rising. Mrs. Cartwright fol- 
 lowed her example, as did Mr. Everton, and Con- 
 stance noticed, with a little pang, that as the latter 
 arose he was obliged to steady himself for a moment 
 against his chair. He looked very old and weak. 
 
 " I will come and see you at your office, Mr. Ever- 
 ton," she said, holding out her hand, over which he 
 7 97
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 again bowed with a half -timid grace, " to arrange 
 about funds for my trip. I am glad you do not en- 
 tirely disapprove of it." 
 
 " You are your own mistress, of course," re- 
 sponded her trustee, with a smile, " and a very 
 capable one, too eh, Mrs. Cartwright? " 
 
 " She certainly is," replied the older woman ab- 
 sently, disentangling the bead trimming of her gown, 
 which had caught in her chair as she arose. " I only 
 wish my girl was as much so." 
 
 " Well, good-by for the present," said Constance, 
 turning to go. Then, stopping, she added, as though 
 the idea had just come to her, " If you have news 
 of your son at any time, I would be glad to have you 
 drop me a line and tell me of it. We became great 
 friends that winter in Rome." 
 
 " You are very kind." 
 
 John stood for several minutes in the open door- 
 way, watching the cab drive away down the deserted 
 street and listening to the muffled sound of the horse's 
 hoofs upon the asphalt. Then he closed the door 
 softly and glanced into the study. Mr. Everton was 
 sitting by the student lamp, his body bent and his thin, 
 haggard face turned toward the window. He pre- 
 sented a pitiable picture of lonely old age, and the 
 98
 
 MARSHALL EfERTON RECEIVES A CALL 
 
 servant regarded him with anxiety and affection. 
 " Something's gone wrong," he muttered, as he with- 
 drew to the dining-room, there to wait until Mr. 
 Everton should be ready to retire. " Has been 
 wrong for some time back. Mr. Daniel had ought 
 to come home."
 
 Chapter VII 
 A BREACH OF TRUST 
 
 of the best evidences of the insignificant 
 parts most men play in the drama of their 
 generation lies in the brevity with which 
 their life histories may be told. Not in all detail, 
 perhaps, but sufficiently so to recount all their great 
 hopes and failures, all their little successes and 
 achievements. 
 
 Marshall Everton was a widower with an only 
 son, and that son was at the other side of the earth, 
 fighting fever and a dangerous wound beneath the 
 roof of Isidro Paris. When Daniel had enlisted 
 two years before, it had caused his father more than 
 one pang, for while of an undemonstrative nature, 
 he loved his son, and looked upon him as the main- 
 stay of his old age. It had come to pass, however, 
 that he now dreaded the return of this son more 
 than he had dreaded his departure at the outbreak 
 of the Spanish war. Dreaded it as one who fears to 
 look another in the face, lest that other should read 
 
 100
 
 A BREACH OF TRUST 
 
 in his own a secret which he fancied the long hours 
 of remorse had written there. 
 
 Neither old age nor loneliness was the cause of 
 Mr. Everton's dejection. His life had been success- 
 ful for many years, and his feet had trodden upon 
 well beaten, easy paths. Great respectability, afflu- 
 ence, and some considerable degree of power had 
 been his for a long time, and then, in a year, he had 
 seen the whole outlook change. For, late in life, 
 he had, disregarding all the principles which had 
 ruled his professional life, been guilty of what the 
 law calls, by the harsh, uncompromising term, " em- 
 bezzlement." 
 
 Some six years before the night when Miss Fair- 
 child called upon him, her father, one of his oldest 
 clients and friends, had died, leaving a large fortune. 
 Under the terms of the will one half was bequeathed 
 to Dr. Richard Fairchild absolutely, and the other 
 was to be held in trust for Constance, then a girl of 
 seventeen. Marshall Everton had been named as 
 trustee, and he was to turn over the principal to the 
 beneficiary when she reached the age of twenty-four. 
 
 A year afterwards there occurred one of those 
 periods of financial depression and panic which some- 
 times sweep over nations, as though sent by an all- 
 wise Providence to show mortal men that the only 
 
 101
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 safe investments are education and health. It swept 
 away all of Mr. Everton's private fortune, which was 
 considerable, but which he had invested in a cor- 
 poration of speculative tendencies and in the stock 
 of a bank with which he had dealt for years. The 
 former went into the hands of a receiver, and the 
 latter closed its doors one morning, leaving Mr. Ever- 
 ton with nothing but his law practice. 
 
 Men do not easily recover from such blows as this 
 when they fall late in life. Whether the shock of 
 the great misfortune weakened in some mysterious 
 way the moral sense of the man, or whether a loose- 
 ness of morals, as regards money matters, which had 
 all his life lain dormant was now brought to the sur- 
 face, it would be difficult to judge. However it 
 may have been, he yielded to the temptation which 
 shortly presented itself. 
 
 During the earlier years of his life Mr. Everton 
 had avoided Wall Street speculations as men do who 
 have but a comfortable fortune for which they have 
 worked hard, but now he listened to the specious ar- 
 guments of a skillful promoter, who pointed out to 
 him an unequaled opportunity for making a fortune 
 in a mining venture in New Mexico. This promoter 
 called upon the old man evenings, and described, in 
 glowing terms, the vast, undeveloped wealth which 
 
 102 
 
 '
 
 A BREACH OF TRUST 
 
 lay hidden away but a few feet beneath the surface, 
 and which would soon be yielded forth for his, the 
 promoter's benefit. Only a small capital was needed 
 to remove the few feet of earth referred to and ex- 
 pose the wealth glittering below. The property had 
 been examined by mining experts of the first order, 
 and they had reported so favorably that there seemed 
 no possible doubt that the investment would soon 
 yield thirty per cent., and the stock advance to a 
 proportional value. 
 
 The promoter very carefully avoided any hint at 
 Mr. Everton's being able to secure stock in this 
 Eldorado. 
 
 The best business men are deceived sometimes by 
 such prospectuses as this, and Mr. Everton was a 
 better lawyer than he was a business man. More- 
 over, the promoter was somewhat prominent in busi- 
 ness and social circles, and was reputed to be a man 
 successful in most of the ventures which he under- 
 took. And so he was, but the same could not always 
 be said for those who shared with him in his busi- 
 ness enterprises. It seemed hard to Mr. Everton 
 that others should be able to turn their money over 
 so quickly, while he was obliged to plod on in the 
 old, unprogressive way; and in an unlucky moment 
 he said as much to the promoter. 
 
 103
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 The mining man agreed with him, but unfor- 
 tunately the property was owned by a few men, no 
 one of whom would be willing to dispose of any of 
 his stock. It was a great pity; the promoter was 
 willing to agree with Mr. Everton on that score. 
 
 He was a financier who had Shakespeare, as well 
 as science, at his fingers' ends. He reminded the 
 old man that " There comes a tide in the affairs of 
 men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune," 
 and had little difficulty in convincing him that this 
 particular mining venture was his " tide," which 
 might never rise so high again. When he went 
 away he volunteered to arrange the matter for Mr. 
 Everton, if it was in any way possible to do so. 
 And Mr. Everton thanked him warmly. 
 
 He " arranged it " within the week, and his friend 
 became the owner of some thirty thousand dollars' 
 worth of the capital stock of the La Guara Mining 
 Company, Limited, of New Mexico and Arizona; 
 having, through the efforts of the promoter, suc- 
 ceeded in getting it at what the promoter called a 
 remarkable figure. It was a remarkable figure ; the 
 most so of any ever commanded by the shares of the 
 corporation, and to avail himself of the opportunity 
 Mr. Everton borrowed thirty thousand dollars from 
 
 the trust estate of Constance Fairchild. 
 
 104
 
 A BREACH OF TRUST 
 
 He used many arguments to convince himself that 
 this was not morally wrong, though as a lawyer he 
 knew well enough what the legal aspect of the case 
 was. He reflected that if, by any chance (and he 
 honestly believed that there was no such chance), he 
 lost the money, he could make it up out of the in- 
 come from his law practice before the time came for 
 the accounting. 
 
 In three months from the time the sale was made, 
 the mining experts discovered that there was no 
 water near enough to the property to enable them to 
 work it, much to the regret of the promoter, who 
 had himself lost over a hundred thousand dol- 
 lars. They had all been equally unfortunate in the 
 matter. The concern had been capitalized at half 
 a million, on the promise of future returns. Some 
 five or ten thousand had been advanced to purchase 
 the land, and the rest of the hundred thousand which 
 the promoter lost was money which he would have 
 made had the stock advanced, on the general mar- 
 ket, to the figure which Mr. Everton paid for his. 
 
 Two years had passed since then, and during them 
 Marshall Everton had tried, conscientiously, to make 
 up the deficit. He saved ten thousand dollars out 
 of his income one year, and then lost it in a frantic 
 
 effort to double it in Wall Street. It seemed as 
 
 105
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 tho the first step in the wrong direction had, in- 
 stead of being a lesson to him, been just the reverse. 
 He reduced his household expenditures to such a 
 degree that John, who had been in the employ of 
 the Everton family for twenty years, felt it incum- 
 bent on him to explain to the cook, who was also an 
 old family servant, that " there warn't no use of it, 
 of course. It was just a hobby of Mr. Everton's. 
 Most men got like that as they got on in life." 
 
 His economies were of no avail, for they were 
 offset by a steady decrease in his income from his 
 law practice. His partner, a younger, more active 
 man, left the firm for another and more pushing 
 one, and Marshall Everton soon discovered that he 
 had outlived his professional usefulness. The defi- 
 cit of thirty thousand still remained to stare him 
 in the face by day and ring in his ears at night. 
 Being of a sensitive temperament, his remorse was 
 acute, and he dreaded to look at a newspaper, lest 
 he should read of the conviction and imprisonment 
 of some poor wretch whose fault had been no worse 
 than his own. 
 
 The time had now come when he had something 
 worse to face than the torturing voice of his con- 
 science. In five months more the accounting would 
 have to be made, and then the secret, which was 
 
 106
 
 A BREACH OF TRUST 
 
 slowly but surely wearing out both mind and body, 
 would be a secret no longer. It would have to be- 
 come public property, and his fall would be as great 
 as his former prosperity had been. He thought of 
 every enemy he had ever made, with the reflection 
 that each would be glad to hear of his disgrace. This 
 fear became, in time, a sort of monomania. He 
 hesitated to meet an acquaintance, thinking that, in 
 some way, his secret had leaked out, and the ac- 
 quaintance would cut him. He watched, with mor- 
 bid interest, the faces of his oldest friends when he 
 happened to meet them, which was but rarely now, 
 for out of business hours he lived the life of a re- 
 cluse, to see if their greetings were as cordial as 
 ever. And if one of them was hurried and showed 
 any less cordiality than formerly, he would worry 
 over the fact for days. 
 
 When he had looked into the fair, young face of 
 his ward that evening, and had seen the sympathy 
 in her eyes as he spoke of his son, he had been 
 strongly tempted to confess his fault, and beg her, 
 for that son's sake, to overlook it. The presence of 
 the older woman had prevented any such course, 
 however, and the opportunity passed. Had he but 
 known it, it would have been far kinder to Constance 
 to have spoken then. 
 
 107
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 When an upright and honest man makes a mis- 
 step in life, instead of weakening his moral principles 
 it not infrequently strengthens them. If he has 
 not been able to gain the strength of a temptation 
 resisted, he can, at least, gain the strength which 
 comes from remorse. This was the case with Mr. 
 Everton, and he now found himself more conscien- 
 tious than ever, and more anxious to do what he 
 thought was his duty. And that was very painful. 
 
 For some time, he had realized that his son ought 
 to know the state of affairs, both as regards their 
 financial ruin and also as regards the impending dis- 
 grace, which he saw was soon to come to them. It 
 might be that that son would not return home under 
 the circumstances. In any event, he ought to be 
 notified of what he might have to face in the way of 
 publicity and dishonor. It was not just that he 
 should remain in ignorance until the day of his 
 arrival home. 
 
 Marshall Everton roused himself with an effort 
 from the reverie into which he had fallen when the 
 two women had left, and in which he had been pain- 
 fully buried for two hours. He arose and crossed 
 unsteadily to his desk, muttering : " There is no bet- 
 ter time than the present; to-morrow I may not have 
 
 the strength." 
 
 108
 
 A BREACH OF TRUST 
 
 He wrote slowly, covering several pages with the 
 story of just what he had done, omitting nothing 
 but the remorse which had followed the act and the 
 temptation which had preceded it. He could tell 
 his son of his wrong, but he would not excuse it or 
 attempt to lessen the severity of that son's judgment. 
 
 It was finished at last; sealed, and directed. A 
 heavy sigh escaped him as, with trembling hands, 
 he placed the stamp upon the envelope. 
 
 " What is it, sir ? Anything very wrong, sir ? " 
 
 It was John who spoke. For more than two hours 
 he had waited patiently in the dining-room for his 
 master to retire, and now stood at his side, watching 
 him anxiously. 
 
 " No, no ; there's nothing wrong. What should 
 be?" 
 
 " Nothing, of course, sir. I thought as how you 
 spoke; that was all." 
 
 " Take this letter, John, and mail it." 
 
 " Yes, sir. But I'll wait till I've seen you safe 
 up to bed first. It's uncommon late most mid- 
 night." 
 
 " Is it, indeed ? I am sorry to have kept you so 
 late." 
 
 " Don't speak of it, sir. I should most likely have 
 stayed up, anyhow." 
 
 109
 
 DANIEL E7ERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Mr. Everton arose and walked slowly to the door. 
 The effort of writing to his son had been almost too 
 much for him. When he reached the threshold he 
 tottered, and would have fallen but for the strong 
 arm of the servant. 
 
 " Do you feel very weak ? Would you like a glass 
 of brandy, sir ? " asked John. 
 
 " No, thank you. I felt the heat for the moment, 
 that's all." 
 
 Very slowly and cautiously the pair ascended the 
 stairs. When they were about half-way to the top, 
 Mr. Everton paused to take breath. " I'm afraid, 
 John," he said, " that there's no doubt about it." 
 
 " About what, sir ? " 
 
 " About my being old," replied Mr. Everton, be- 
 ginning once more to mount the stairs. " I am old 
 very old." 
 
 " Nonsense ! You've many a good year before 
 you yet." 
 
 " If I had died just six years ago," continued Mr. 
 Everton, looking straight in front of him, " it would 
 have been a good thing a very good thing." 
 
 With this curious observation he gained the top 
 of the stairs and, dismissing John, entered his room. 
 
 110
 
 Chapter VIH 
 
 MERCEDES 
 
 HE rainy season was well advanced before 
 Daniel Everton recovered sufficiently to take 
 any notice of his surroundings. His wound 
 healed rapidly enough, but a low fever, which had 
 seized upon his weakened frame, kept him be- 
 tween life and death for many weeks. The tide 
 turned at last, however, and he slowly crept back 
 to life. He still occupied the room into which he 
 had been carried on the night when he received his 
 wound, as Paris had met all suggestions as to his 
 removal with impatient abruptness. " The man was 
 hurt while guarding my property," he had said, "and 
 do you think I will allow him to be taken away now ? 
 Such is not the gratitude of Isidro Paris." 
 
 In after years, when he looked back upon this 
 long illness, there was one day which stood out in 
 sharp relief against the background of the long weeks 
 of restless pain; when he seemed to come out of his 
 
 state of mental confusion into a clearer atmosphere. 
 
 Ill
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 It was the day which marked the turning-point in his 
 sickness when the fever left him to grope his way- 
 back to life and strength. 
 
 One afternoon in the first week of September, the 
 big windows which opened out of his room upon the 
 broad veranda were thrown open, admitting a soft 
 breeze from the sea. The skies had, apparently, ex- 
 hausted themselves with the long months of violent 
 rain and wind, and it was but a gentle shower that 
 fell upon the tin roof of the building as Everton 
 opened his eyes. The sound was very soothing to 
 his ears, tired with the discordant voices which he 
 had heard so long in his delirium. 
 
 As he glanced wearily at the opposite wall, he felt 
 the not unpleasant languor which comes with ex- 
 treme weakness. Upon a little stand by his bed- 
 side there was a cooling drink. He turned and 
 stretched out his hand to take it, but fell back, over- 
 come by the exertion. 
 
 From a big chair in one corner of the room a 
 young girl arose, and crossing to his side placed the 
 glass to his lips. She was obliged to slip her other 
 arm around his neck to support the head, which was 
 throbbing wildly. He drank eagerly, and then lay 
 back upon his pillow, fixing his eyes upon her face. 
 
 The most recent companions of his delirium had 
 112
 
 MERCEDES 
 
 been natives insurgents who had held him pris- 
 oner and compelled him to spend night and day 
 carrying heavy sacks of rice up and down moun- 
 tains, over rough trails, and through icy rivers, which 
 chilled him to the bone; after which they would let 
 him halt for a while on burning plains, where there 
 was no shade and where his head would ache with 
 the blinding, splitting ache which comes in a desert 
 from heat and thirst. 
 
 And now he found himself in a cool, dark room, 
 and by his side there stood a white woman, who was 
 fair to look upon. So he regarded her long and 
 searchingly, and she, thinking that he was still delir- 
 ious, returned his gaze without self-consciousness 
 or shyness. 
 
 She was about seventeen, and lovely with the 
 southern loveliness of premature maturity a variety 
 which makes charming, altho not enduring, types of 
 feminine beauty. Over her white shoulders there 
 was hardly enough native blood in her veins to be 
 apparent in her coloring her glossy, black hair fell 
 in luxuriant, waving masses. Her face was plump 
 and round, and her mouth beautifully formed. Her 
 chin was, if anything, a trifle too full for beauty, 
 but that was one of those defects which are not 
 
 noticed while youth lasts. / 
 8 ^13
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Whatever defects Mercedes Paris may have had, 
 Everton did not observe them on this occasion, hav- 
 ing no one to compare her with but old Benita, who 
 had been one of the most hideous figures in the night- 
 mare through which he had struggled for three long 
 months. As his eyes wandered from her face, he 
 noticed that she wore the native costume, and won- 
 dered fretfully what this white girl was doing there, 
 dressed in Benita's clothes. 
 
 " Who are you? " he asked, faintly. 
 
 They were the first conscious words he had spoken, 
 and the color mounted to the clear, olive cheeks of 
 the young girl as she heard them. Quickly setting 
 the glass back upon the table, she crept out of the 
 room in confusion. A moment later he heard her 
 speak to those outside; then a firm step crossed the 
 hall, and Dr. Fairchild was standing by his bedside. 
 
 " Well, Everton. How do you find yourself ? " 
 the physician inquired, kindly. 
 
 " Very weak, sir," replied the sick man. " Have 
 I been ill long?" 
 
 " Matter of months more or less. Never mind. 
 Better not talk." 
 
 Everton nodded slightly and gazed at the shadows 
 on the ceiling. After a moment he aroused him- 
 self by an effort and asked : " Am I going to live ? " 
 
 114
 
 MERCEDES 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor, simply. 
 
 The other smiled to show that he understood, and 
 then closed his eyes. The light, dim as it was, 
 hurt him. Fairchild stood by his side until his 
 heavy breathing assured him that his patient was 
 asleep, and looked curiously at the face of the man 
 whose fight with death had been fought and won 
 against such heavy odds. 
 
 It was one to interest a character student, and for 
 some time Fairchild had indulged in some specula- 
 tions as to the motive which had actuated this man 
 to enlist. The face, which, like the body, was thin 
 almost to emaciation, was quite deeply marked. 
 There are lines in the human countenance which 
 seem to lie beneath the surface in health, but which 
 come out after a long illness and tell their story. His 
 hair which had grown a little thin and a little gray 
 during his illness was tossed back from a high, well- 
 shaped forehead. His beard had grown long, and 
 was unkempt and straggling. 
 
 " A gentleman somewhat out of repair," was 
 Fairchild's mental comment. 
 
 As the days passed on, Everton's convalescence 
 progressed rapidly. He was soon well enough to be 
 moved to a cane chair on the veranda, in which he 
 
 would lie for hours at a time, watching the white 
 
 115
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 sails of the Paris sugar lorchas on their voyages to 
 Iloilo, or dozing contentedly, lulled by the soft rust- 
 ling of the bamboo brake in Senor Isidro's garden. 
 
 Then, later on, as he grew strong enough, he would 
 walk or drive about the hacienda, in the management 
 of which he showed an interest which pleased and 
 flattered the old planter. 
 
 The two men grew to be very good friends during 
 this time. Everton had been anxious to repay his 
 host in some measure for his kindness, and had found 
 ways in which he was able to be of great assistance 
 to him. fParis was a hard worker, as Filipinos go, 
 but he had a decided hatred of anything connected 
 with pen and ink, and his bookkeeping was of the 
 most primitive descriptions Everton offered to help 
 him one day when he was paying off his laborers, 
 and the offer was gladly accepted. From this 
 small beginning the American had come, in a few 
 weeks, to be almost indispensable. He simplified 
 Paris's accounts for him, besides indicating several 
 little ways in which economy could be practised, and 
 the sugar output of the hacienda be increased. He 
 also discovered that his too good-natured friend was 
 being robbed by his underlings in many petty ways, 
 and explained to him how this could be prevented. 
 
 " What you really need," he had said one day, 
 116
 
 MERCEDES 
 
 when he had succeeded in convincing his host that 
 one of the oldest and most trusted of the hacienda 
 hands had been practising, unsuspected, a petty dis- 
 honesty for years, " is an overseer whom you can 
 trust." 
 
 " Ah, yes, my son," replied the shrewd old man. 
 " No doubt such a one would be invaluable. But 
 where am I to get him? An honest man is not al- 
 ways easily found, and, after all, I am not robbed 
 as much as some of my friends." 
 
 Late in the afternoon of a day some four weeks 
 after the soldier's convalescence had begun, he and 
 his host were together upon the broad veranda 
 which served as a living room to the inmates of the 
 big house. They had just returned from a visit to 
 the sugar mills, and Paris had explained the process 
 of crushing out the sugar from the cane. 
 
 " What do you think of my machinery ? " he asked, 
 as he handed the American a cigar and lit one him- 
 self. 
 
 " Well," replied Everton, " I noticed that it does 
 not get all the juice out of the cane." 
 
 "ETo? It's the only kind I ever saw." 
 
 " You ought to get some American machinery. I 
 believe that there is a machine made which crushes 
 
 out practically all of the juice." 
 
 117
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " I get all that I can handle now," said Paris. " I 
 always lose a good part of my crop each year, because 
 I can't get through with the boiling process in the 
 short season before the cane rots on my hands." 
 
 " There are several ways in which that could be 
 remedied. You have, I noticed, only oil lamps, so 
 that it is impossible to work at night." 
 
 " What would you suggest electricity ? " asked 
 Paris, humorously. 
 
 "Yes; why not? You have power enough in that 
 river there to run a dynamo, which would light your 
 whole hacienda and run the cars down to your dock. 
 That would be much better than pushing them along 
 by hand, as you do now. I think that if you were 
 to put in modern machinery and electricity you could 
 more than double your output each year, besides get- 
 ting along with fewer hands." 
 
 " The cost of labor is so little that it is hardly 
 worth considering," said Paris ; " but the use of new 
 machinery certainly is. I value this hacienda at 
 three hundred thousand dollars, and I make about 
 fifty thousand a year on it." 
 
 Everton expressed his astonishment at this. If a 
 man like Paris, with his antiquated machinery and 
 equally antiquated methods, could get such a return 
 
 from his hacienda, he wondered what an enterpris- 
 
 118
 
 MERCEDES 
 
 ing American could do. Of late he had received 
 several letters from Marshall Everton, in which the 
 old man had spoken of the changes in their family 
 fortunes and the advisability of the son's seeking 
 some remunerative employment as soon as he was 
 discharged from the army. His enlistment had ex- 
 pired, and the young man was in a position where it 
 seemed urgently advisable for him to turn his atten- 
 tion to his financial position and do something to 
 remedy it. He had lived all his life in the anticipa- 
 tion, and indeed the actual enjoyment, of affluence, 
 and he now found himself face to face with the 
 very serious problem of earning his daily bread. 
 The future had no terrors for him, however. His 
 experience as a soldier had taught him the difference 
 between the necessities of life and its superfluities, 
 and in learning this he had mastered one of its most 
 valuable lessons. 
 
 While Everton was thinking of the opportunities 
 which he saw about him for making a fortune in 
 sugar, and wondering how he personally could make 
 use of them, Paris regarded him thoughtfully. He 
 reflected how much more interest he would take in 
 the work if he had a son to help him and step into 
 his place some day when the life work was done. 
 
 " I am going into town in the morning," said 
 119
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Everton, after a few moments, " and I expect to re- 
 ceive my discharge from the army. My time was 
 up six weeks ago, and the other men who enlisted 
 when I did have all been discharged, or re-enlisted, 
 before this." 
 
 " You will not remain in the army ? " asked Paris, 
 somewhat anxiously. 
 
 " Oh, no. I enlisted for the war and was in Cuba. 
 The trouble seems about over out here, and I have 
 my way to make in the world." 
 
 " I want you to stay with me for the present," 
 Paris said. " I cannot spare you. You have been 
 of great service to me. Perhaps I may have a prop- 
 osition to submit to you." 
 
 " You are very kind, and I shall be happy to stay. 
 While we are on the subject, I noticed that when 
 your cane juice has been crushed out it runs into 
 big vats and is boiled." 
 
 "Yes; what about it?" 
 
 " Simply this. When those vats are full, instead 
 of letting your men stop work and go to sleep until 
 the juice is cooled, why don't you have other vats 
 made and ladle the sugar into them? You could 
 then go right ahead and crush more cane, instead of 
 losing five or six hours each day." 
 
 The simplicity of this arrangement appealed to 
 120
 
 MERCEDES 
 
 Paris at once. " I will have it done," he said. " I 
 wonder that I never thought of that myself." 
 
 They continued to talk about the introduction of 
 new machinery until the appearance of a muchacho 
 bearing a tray. It was time for the afternoon meal, 
 which in the Philippines breaks the long fast from 
 luncheon at twelve until dinner at half-past eight 
 or nine. Senora Paris and Mercedes soon came out 
 and joined them. 
 
 Everton had become very much at home in this 
 household during the weeks he had spent in getting 
 back his strength. He had shown to Senora Paris 
 many little courtesies, such as American men are 
 apt to show to older women, and these unaccustomed 
 attentions had made for him a warm friend. 
 
 Of the daughter he had seen far more than men 
 usually see of unmarried girls in the Philippines. 
 His being a guest in the house, and ill, had thrown 
 him into intimate contact with all the members, and 
 Mercedes had read aloud to him from " Don Quix- 
 ote " and other works of Spanish fiction. 
 
 " Our friend informs me that he leaves the army 
 to-morrow," said Senor Paris, filling his mouth full 
 of bread and jam. 
 
 Whether he ever put in American machinery 
 
 or not, Everton felt quite sure that Paris would 
 
 121
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 stick to his Filipino table-manners to the end of 
 time. 
 
 " I hope you do not leave us then," said his wife, 
 courteously. 
 
 " No; your husband has very kindly asked me to 
 remain here for the present." 
 
 " Asked you ? I insist upon it," exclaimed Paris, 
 gulping down his chocolate with a loud noise. " I 
 could not get along without you." 
 
 " You are very kind," said Everton; " but I fear 
 you exaggerate." 
 
 " I am sure he does not," said Mercedes. " Are 
 you going home to America ? " 
 
 " I have made no plans as yet," he answered, 
 hesitating. ' " A wave of sadness swept over him at 
 the thought that the word " home " did not have 
 the same significance for him that it had had during 
 his mother's lifetime. A home can only be made 
 by a mother or a wife. 
 
 " I am a soldier, and can make my home wher- 
 ever I can find enough ground to spread my blan- 
 ket," he said. 
 
 " We have ground enough for that here," rejoined 
 Paris, graciously. " About ten thousand acres." 
 
 " Perhaps he has a sweetheart in America," said 
 Senora Paris, dipping a piece of bread into her 
 
 122
 
 MERCEDES 
 
 chocolate and raising it to her lips. Everton looked 
 at her, amused. Two years before, the table-man- 
 ners of these people would have jarred upon him; 
 but now, after his experience in the ranks, where 
 table-manners are not especially cultivated, he 
 scarcely noticed them. 
 
 " No," he answered. " I am alone in the world, 
 except for my father." 
 
 " Pobrecito ! " exclaimed Senora Paris, sympa- 
 thetically. She had large brown eyes of the kind 
 which grow moist on the least possible provocation. 
 
 When they had finished, Everton suggested a 
 stroll down the road leading to the sea. Mercedes 
 shyly acquiesced. 
 
 " I wish I had a son like that," said Paris, when 
 he and his wife were alone together. 
 
 " Sons are sent by God," explained his spouse, re- 
 ligiously. " You might have had one like Jose 
 Mispall," she added, with some spirit. 
 
 Senor Isidro shrugged his shoulders by way of 
 comment. " I need help here on this place. I have 
 learned to lean on this young man." 
 
 " Pay him a salary, then, to stay with you. You 
 can afford it." 
 
 " Yes, but I believe him to be one of the young 
 men who work for themselves and not on salaries. 
 
 123
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Do you remember, Carissima," he continued after 
 a pause, " how I gave up my salary the first year we 
 were married and went to work for myself on the 
 hacienda Carlotta? " 
 
 " I do not forget," replied his wife with a sigh. 
 " Then it was always ' our future '; now it is the fu- 
 ture of Mercedes." 
 
 " We molded our future," replied Senor Paris, 
 gently. " Mercedes cannot mold hers. She must 
 marry, and the pick of her suitors seems to be Jose 
 Mispall. I sometimes wonder if all the young people 
 are like that in these days." 
 
 Senora Paris made no reply, and he looked down 
 the road to where Everton and Mercedes were walk- 
 ing. At that moment the American put forth his 
 hand to help his companion across a rough spot in 
 the road. As Senor Isidro looked at them, his 
 thoughts took a strange drift. 
 
 "Why not?" he muttered to himself. "Why 
 
 not?" 
 
 124
 
 Chapter IX 
 SENOR ISIDRO GIVES A BALL 
 
 HE following day Everton was discharged 
 from the army, and as time passed he be- 
 came, by degrees, the controlling hand in the 
 management of the Paris hacienda. While he had 
 never before had any practical experience in the run- 
 ning of sugar plantations, he was possessed of a good 
 fund of that quality which goes by the name of com- 
 mon sense, and which is probably derived, by evolu- 
 tion, from the experience of former generations. 
 
 He took a great interest in the work, and it was 
 of a character to appeal to him. After the restric- 
 tions of his soldier existence, it was delightful to be 
 his own master once more, and his duties as general 
 manager gave him plenty of out-of-door work rid- 
 ing about the hacienda and giving a personal super- 
 vision to many things which had previously been 
 allowed to take care of themselves. Senor Isidro 
 had been suffering for some time from an attack of 
 
 rheumatism, and was quite content to be confined to 
 
 125
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 the house, where he could spend his time reading 
 " Don Quixote " and other Spanish novels with 
 which the house was stocked, and still know that his 
 business was in competent hands. He grew daily 
 more and more attached to Everton, who, feeling 
 keenly the obligation placed upon him by their kind- 
 ness during his long illness, did his best to make 
 up for it, in a measure, by his courtesy to the dif- 
 ferent members of the household. 
 
 He talked much of America, for in everything 
 connected with that country Senor Isidro showed 
 the keenest interest. It was the interest which an 
 old man takes when, near the close of his life's 
 journey, he looks about him and sees the changes 
 which are coming in with the new generation. He 
 was sincerely attached to his country, but the strong 
 mixture of white blood in his veins gave him a far 
 more liberal mind than most of his countrymen. He 
 was a Filipino in his devotion to the Philippines, 
 but a Spaniard in his half -concealed contempt for the 
 Malay character. ' 
 
 He was far-sighted enough to see that American 
 sovereignty in the islands was the very thing needed 
 to develop both the country and the race, and he was 
 near enough to the end of his journey to be able to 
 
 view political questions from an unbiased standpoint. 
 
 126
 
 SENOR ISIDRO GIVES A BALL 
 
 Sympathy with the wrongs and injustice to which 
 the race had been subjected, he had always had. In- 
 deed, he had gone so far as to take part in the revo- 
 lution of 1844 if that somewhat spectacular affair 
 can be dignified by the name of revolution. But 
 he was far from being in sympathy with the fiery 
 and impracticable patriotism of the others, which 
 showed itself in bombastic speech-making and other 
 heroics. He knew that such men as the patriot Risal 
 were the exceptions from which one might infer the 
 future possibilities of the race, not the standards by 
 which that race could be judged in the present. He 
 had once expressed his views tersely to Everton, by 
 saying that such of the people as did not deserve to 
 be hanged certainly deserved to be free ; but freedom 
 and self-government were not synonymous, as he 
 understood the native character. 
 
 Now, while Senor Isidro took a broad, general in- 
 terest in the political future of his country, he took 
 a much stronger, personal one in the future of his 
 own little family. 
 
 He had no son. Just what a disappointment this 
 had been to him it is difficult for any one to realize 
 who does not belong to a semi-civilized community 
 and feel a half-savage pride in male offspring. His 
 family consisted of his wife, Mercedes, and his 
 
 127
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 brother Bartholomew; but with the latter his rela- 
 tions had of late been somewhat strained. The 
 question which had so often presented itself to him 
 was what his little family would do when he was 
 gone, i Above all things on earth he loved his daugh- 
 ter, and that which concerned her future concerned 
 him more nearly than anything else. And that 
 which most concerns the future of any girl is her 
 marriage. 
 
 He recognized the fact that she had now arrived 
 at an age when it was his duty to give the subject 
 serious consideration and select for her a suitable 
 husband. In regard to this selection he was placed 
 in a very difficult position, on account of his mixed 
 blood. He was, himself, more than half white, and 
 so was his wife, while the little Mercedes was so 
 Spanish in type that only her dress proclaimed the 
 mestizo,. He disliked the idea of marrying her to 
 a Filipino for many reasons, the strongest of which 
 were business ones. 
 
 He was a rich man, but his wealth was not invested 
 in stocks and bonds which could be left to themselves 
 while he drew regular dividends. It was in sugar 
 lands which, properly managed, would return a hand- 
 some profit, but which would otherwise soon cease 
 
 to pay expenses. He had good reason to believe that 
 
 128
 
 SENOR ISIDRO GIPES A BALL 
 
 in the hands of an incompetent son-in-law his prop- 
 erty would be mismanaged. Most of the young 
 caballeros who had suggested themselves as possible 
 candidates for Mercedes' hand were men of the type 
 of Jose Mispall more addicted to cards than to 
 work. 
 
 But now fortune had thrown in his way a young 
 man who seemed to be in every way the right man 
 in the right place. In Everton he had chanced upon 
 a young, honest specimen of that great people who 
 had come so lately into control of the land. He 
 was far-sighted enough to see that his indolent, easy- 
 going countrymen could not hope to resist, commer- 
 cially, this new force. It was the progress and sci- 
 ence of the twentieth century, supported by a rugged, 
 northern temperament. He could not help but fore- 
 see that the wealth of his own beautiful island, and 
 that of the others, would ultimately come into the 
 possession of this new race.', 
 
 The time had come when he must step into line 
 with the new order of things. If he did, there was 
 practically no limit to the power and prestige which 
 his family might enjoy in the next generation; if 
 he did not, they, in common with the others, must 
 eventually go to the wall. He needed American 
 
 methods skill, honesty, and enterprise; above all, 
 9 129
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 he needed the assistance of some capable young 
 American who possessed these qualities and who 
 would, at the same time, regard the interests of the 
 Paris family as his own. 
 
 Now, Isidro Paris was possessed of a considerable 
 knowledge of the world which is to say, that he 
 had observed carefully many men, and had discov- 
 ered that, after all, each was very like the others; 
 in that with each self-interest was the great, if not 
 the only, interest. He was sufficiently just to deem 
 this but natural, having studied himself as well as 
 his fellows. He thought, therefore, that he might 
 buy American machinery and hire an American 
 manager and still not be able to go to his rest secure 
 in the knowledge that his family's interests would be 
 conserved. If Everton, who was the man he needed, 
 was to be bound to the interests of Mercedes, who 
 was the one he considered, their interests must be 
 made identical, and there was but one way to ac- 
 complish that he must marry her. 
 
 The scheme appealed to the old man in every 
 way. He had grown personally attached to Ever- 
 ton, and the thought that he might have his com- 
 panionship during the closing years of his life was 
 very pleasing to him. The question did not seem 
 
 to be open to argument. The more he observed 
 
 130
 
 SENOR ISIDRO GI^S A BALL 
 
 Everton, the more he became fixed in the belief that 
 the young American was all that could be desired 
 in a son-in-law. There was, too, another argument 
 which had great weight with him. Mercedes was so 
 nearly white that he shrank from the thought of her 
 marriage with any but a white man. Under the 
 new regime, a white man meant an American, just 
 as it had formerly meant a Spaniard, and Everton 
 had clearly been sent by Providence, just at the 
 right time. 
 
 It was the evening of the ball in honor of Mer- 
 cedes' eighteenth birthday. Everton had ridden 
 away at dawn, to spend the day in Silay, and now 
 returned at seven o'clock to find that a transformation 
 had been wrought in the house during his absence. 
 
 He had never given the Filipinos, as a race, 
 credit for anything approaching artistic taste. More 
 than once the contrast between the beauty of every- 
 thing natural and the Spanish crudeness of every- 
 thing artificial in the land had impressed itself pain- 
 fully upon him. But now, as he paused at the head 
 of the grand stairway and marveled at the way in 
 which nature had been invited indoors, he was 
 forced to admit that he had done these people an 
 injustice. 
 
 181
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Had it not been for the highly polished floor of 
 dark, hard wood, he could easily have believed that 
 he stood in the palm grove by the sea. A hundred 
 of the stately trees had been ravished of their long, 
 graceful branches, with which the walls and ceilings 
 were banked. The doorways and windows had been 
 converted into arches whose sides were dwarf palms, 
 their branches blending together at the top and con- 
 cealing the woodwork with a clever counterfeit of 
 nature. A soft light was furnished by oil lamps 
 hidden away behind the foliage and by innumerable 
 Japanese lanterns, concealed in the same way. 
 
 There was no one visible about the hall or veran- 
 das when Everton arrived and went to his own room 
 to dress. He was in high spirits, having driven a 
 sharp bargain with some merchants in Iloilo for the 
 sale of the season's sugar crop. He was to go over 
 to Iloilo the next morning, and looked forward to 
 the trip with a boyish pleasure. The easy freedom 
 of the life he was now leading was in strong and 
 agreeable contrast to the restrictions of his life in 
 the ranks. 
 
 It was not long after the hurried dinner before 
 the guests began to arrive, and by ten o'clock the 
 double rows of chairs about the walls of the hall- 
 way were filled with the dusky beauties of the coast. 
 
 132
 
 SENOR IS1DRO GIVES A BALL 
 
 There was Senor Pedrera of Talisay, a Spaniard 
 whose life-long residence in the Philippines had 
 given him a darker skin than those of his three mes- 
 tizo, daughters the acknowledged belles of their 
 town. There were a half-dozen army officers in 
 their immaculate white duck uniforms, and among 
 them Taylor and the second lieutenant. The latter 
 had arrived in Silay two hours before from a trip to 
 the north, and hearing of the ball had mounted a 
 fresh horse and pushed on. There was a major 
 from Iloilo and a regular army doctor from Bacolod. 
 These two retired to the balcony early in the even- 
 ing, and became so steeped in Scotch whisky and 
 reminiscences of the Civil War as to be unavailable 
 for partners. The doctor managed to pull himself 
 together at supper time, leaving the major asleep in 
 his chair and snoring assiduously. 
 
 There were others, too numerous to mention, for 
 the visiting list of the Paris family was a large one, 
 and included nearly every hacendero from Silay to 
 Bago. Not a few had traveled all day in their little 
 quilises, that they might be present on this great 
 occasion and enjoy the regal hospitality of the 
 wealthy planter. 
 
 A decided constraint and formality marked the be- 
 ginning of the evening's festivities. The matrons 
 
 133
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 occupied the second row of seats, with their backs 
 against the wall of verdure, giving up the front row 
 to the younger girls. The night was warm, and they 
 all fanned themselves vigorously, which caused the 
 heavy air to take up the perfumes from their comely 
 persons and spread them abroad. Many and various 
 were these perfumes, but chief among them all was 
 the heavy, determined odor of cocoanut oil which 
 arose from the glossy, black heads and seemed to 
 challenge all comers for the exclusive possession of 
 the air. 
 
 Until the dancing began the men adjourned to the 
 dining-room to drink and smoke, leaving the women 
 to their own devices. Either a shyness on the part 
 of the latter or else a social barrier of long custom, 
 divided the sexes until later in the evening. 
 
 The ball opened with a rigadon a characteristic 
 dance of the islands in which every one took part. 
 This was followed by a waltz, which latter was, in 
 turn, succeeded by a polka much to the disgust of 
 the second lieutenant. 
 
 " How do you dance the blame thing, anyway ? " 
 he inquired of Taylor, who was standing in one of 
 the long windows, lazily watching the others get over- 
 heated. 
 
 " Try a two-step." 
 
 134
 
 SENOR ISIDRO GIFES A BALL 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me that their polka is noth- 
 ing but our two-step? I thought it was a kind of 
 an obsolete, one-two-three-and-a-jump concern." 
 
 Taylor laughed. " It is a two-step. What we 
 know as the polka they never seem to have heard 
 of out here." 
 
 " I thought the two-step was as much an American 
 institution as apple pie or the word ' guess.' ' 
 
 " I can't say as to the pie, but you'll find ' guess ' 
 in Shakespeare. Come and have a glass of cham- 
 pagne." 
 
 " No, thanks. I'm going to have a try at the 
 native two-step. Watch me capture the belle of the 
 ball." As he finished speaking he darted across the 
 room to Mercedes, who was standing with flushed 
 face and sparkling eyes by the side of her father. 
 She was looking extremely well, and foreign enough 
 to be decidedly out of place among the dusky senor- 
 itas of the neighborhood. Several of the army offi- 
 cers, who saw her for the first time that evening, 
 found it difficult to believe that she was, indeed, a 
 mestizo, and the daughter of their dark-skinned host. 
 
 Taylor's were not the only eyes which followed 
 her with an admiring gaze as she glided off in the 
 arms of the second lieutenant. It was, as Paris had 
 said, but as yesterday that she had been a child to 
 
 135
 
 DANIEL EFERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 the young gallants of Silay and Bacolod, and more 
 than one masculine heart was stirred as its owner 
 saw, for the first time, how the dainty little creature 
 had matured and ripened into womanhood. 
 
 The ball progressed very much after the manner 
 of such functions the world over. It was after the 
 first supper no less than three heavy repasts were 
 served during the evening that Jose Mispall, hav- 
 ing obtained the honor of two successive dances with 
 Mercedes, persuaded her to sit them out with him 
 in a sequestered nook on the veranda. That he 
 persuaded her more easily than he had expected to 
 do, was due to the fact that she was piqued at what 
 she chose to consider Everton's neglect, for, altho 
 the American had danced with her several times, he 
 had done so with an air of abstraction, from which 
 she could not help but infer that his thoughts were 
 elsewhere as indeed they were. 
 
 She had grown to like Everton immensely, and 
 the real indifference, which she believed she saw 
 
 beneath his kindly, considerate manner, hurt her. 
 <- 
 She was too simple to be in any way conscious of the 
 
 racial barrier which separated them;; her knowledge 
 of the world being limited to the world of Negros 
 and Manila, and therein the mixture of blood was 
 no discredit. Both of her grandfathers having been 
 
 186
 
 SENOR ISIDRO GIVES A BALL 
 
 Spaniards, it did not occur to her that Everton could 
 regard her as being in any way inferior because of 
 the darker strain of blood which ran through her 
 veins. Indeed, she had been encouraged by her 
 over-indulgent parents to regard herself as quite an 
 important and altogether charming personage, and 
 she had now reached the age when she felt that she 
 was entitled to a little of the gallantry from men of 
 which she had read so much in books. 
 
 Being actuated by these feelings, she accepted 
 Mispall's unconventional invitation in the hope that 
 Everton would see them and awake to a sense of the 
 opportunity he had wasted. Everton did not see 
 them, but some one else, did, with a result which 
 changed many things by precipitating an event which 
 otherwise might never have come to pass. 
 
 Senor Paris chanced to be returning from a hur- 
 ried visit to his kitchen soon after the pair had en- 
 
 sconsed themselves upon the divan, and Mispall had 
 i 
 
 begun to turn the conversation into personal chan- 
 nels something at which he was an adept. The 
 old man stopped abruptly as he caught sight of them, 
 and stood watching for some time, startled not a 
 little at the spectacle of his daughter enjoying a tete- 
 a-tete with a man, and a man of whom he thought as 
 
 little as he did of Mispall. Then, just as Jose, who 
 
 187
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 believed in the rapid form of love making, was lean- 
 ing forward and attempting to possess himself of 
 one of Mercedes' hands, he came forward and spoke 
 quietly. 
 
 " My child," he said, " you will find your mother 
 in the hall. I think that you had better join her 
 there. You are heated from the dancing, and you 
 might catch cold out here." 
 
 She was too unsophisticated to draw any inference 
 from his words or tone, and such a thing as question- 
 ing his request never occurred to her. So, with a 
 shy blush, she arose and preceded them down the 
 veranda. 
 
 Mispall made a self-conscious observation about 
 having availed himself of his old friendship for the 
 family to chat with one of its most charming mem- 
 bers a remark which fell rather flat upon Paris. 
 As they started to follow the girl to the ballroom, 
 the old man walked at a snail's pace until she had 
 disappeared within the house, and then said casually, 
 but with a meaning which the other could not fail to 
 perceive : " We must not be selfish, Jose. Youth is 
 the time for enjoyment, and the young like best those 
 of their own age. Come and have a glass of wine 
 with me." 
 
 There was nothing to be done but to accept the 
 138
 
 SENOR ISIDRO GIPES A BALL 
 
 situation, which Mispall did with as good a grace as 
 possible, altho he resented being placed in the 
 same generation with Mercedes' father, being him- 
 self twenty years younger than Senor Isidro. He 
 accompanied his host to the dining-room, and, having 
 lost his interest in the dancing, remained there for 
 the greater part of the night. 
 
 Paris returned to the ballroom, where he looked 
 about him from time to time with happiness and 
 pride. He was, he reflected, a very lucky man to 
 have such a house and such a daughter. This was 
 certainly the finest ball which had ever been given 
 on the island of Negros, and (he rubbed his hands 
 gleefully together at the thought) there had been 
 few to equal it in Manila in the days of the old 
 grandees. Life had indeed prospered with him, to 
 be the head of such an establishment as this and 
 to have the influence and prestige which were his. 
 Then the thought of his future plans occurred to 
 him, and he recalled uncomfortably the scene he 
 had witnessed on the veranda but a few minutes 
 before. He began to think that if he lost any more 
 time a new element might have to be taken into 
 consideration Mercedes might fall in love. 
 
 He was happy to have observed that she had 
 played only a passive part in the little scene which 
 
 189
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 he had so heartlessly interrupted, but playing even 
 passive parts under such circumstances is a dangerous 
 occupation ; especially in a land where, before mar- 
 riage, women play passive parts in most things. Cer- 
 tainly there was no time to be lost. He would find 
 an opportunity of speaking to Everton that very night 
 after the guests had gone. 
 
 It was near sunrise before the last of the guests 
 took their departure and rattled off down the drive- 
 way as fast as their bulls could draw them. The 
 night had been oppressively warm, but now there 
 crept into the air a freshness which was almost sharp, 
 and which was fragrant with the odor of the earth 
 and foliage. Suddenly the stately game roosters, 
 which strutted about the house by day, awoke and 
 began to crow. They continued the shrill noise for 
 a few minutes, and then, realizing that it was, after 
 all, not yet daylight, they desisted and went to sleep 
 once more. 
 
 " Come out here for a while," said Paris, when 
 the last guest had left and the women of the house- 
 hold had bidden them good-night and gone to their 
 own apartments. " I have something of importance 
 to say to you; that is, unless you are tired? " 
 
 " Not in the least," replied Everton, as he followed 
 140
 
 SENOR ISIDRO CITES A BALL 
 
 his host to a corner of the veranda overlooking 
 Canaloan, which was just looming up behind a filmy 
 veil of mist. In his life as a soldier he had learned 
 to love this hour of dawn, after the long, hot nights 
 and before the long, hot days. As he looked at the 
 distant hills he thought of the contrast between the 
 night he had just passed and the many through which 
 he had lain out on that mountain-side in the rain and 
 mud. Then he thought of the innumerable little 
 acts of kindness which Paris had shown to him dur- 
 ing the past months, and his heart warmed toward 
 the old man, who, taking one of the cane chairs and 
 motioning Everton to another, began to speak. 
 
 First he spoke of his hacienda, its wealth and pos- 
 sibilities, and referred to the years of toil he had 
 put into the business, showing how, from a small 
 beginning, he had developed the immense enterprise 
 with which Everton was now familiar. 
 
 " And what I have done," he went on, " is as 
 nothing compared to what may yet be done. To a 
 young man like yourself the situation offers remark- 
 able possibilities. But the work must be first with 
 you, if you are to make the great success. I have 
 seen men of the European races come out here be- 
 fore. They stay ten or fifteen years and make 
 
 enough out of the country to live on; then they go 
 
 141
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 back home again. That is not the way to make a 
 great fortune. That is something which requires 
 the reinvesting of your capital in the same enter- 
 prises in which you have made it developing the 
 work with which you are familiar and with which 
 you have succeeded. To make a great fortune here, 
 you must have your heart in this country, and this 
 work. If you are to be forever thinking of home 
 you will never accomplish anything great. And now 
 I must ask you a personal question. Is there any 
 woman in your case any one to whom you would 
 be forever anxious to return ? " 
 
 Everton did not reply immediately. He was think- 
 ing of Constance Fairchild and wondering just how 
 to answer this remarkable question; wondering, too, 
 why the old man asked it. He thought that he could 
 safely say that he would not be always wanting to 
 return. She had told him in no uncertain terms 
 that she could not marry him, because she did not 
 care for him. That had been two years ago, and he 
 had not seen her since or heard from her but once. 
 He had failed in the great desire of his life, and that 
 was the end of it. 
 
 " You mean, I presume, to ask whether I am en- 
 gaged to be married ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Paris, who had grown anxious dur- 
 142
 
 SNOR ISIDRO GIPES A BALL 
 
 ing the long silence ; " that's exactly what I mean. 
 Are you, or do you expect to be, engaged to be 
 married ? " 
 
 " No," replied Everton, slowly. " I am not en- 
 gaged, and I have no expectation of being. You do 
 not ask me " 
 
 " Whether you have ever fancied a woman ? No, 
 I do not. I am not such a fool," continued Senor 
 Isidro, hastily. " You and I are talking of business 
 and the serious affairs of life." 
 
 He then, without further preliminary, proceeded 
 to offer Everton a half interest in his hacienda and 
 the hand of his daughter Mercedes. 
 
 To say that the young man was amazed would be 
 to give but a faint idea of his feelings as he listened 
 to this astounding proposition, and for the moment 
 he was inclined to the opinion that the old man had 
 gone suddenly across the border line which divides 
 old age from second childhood. He had expected to 
 be offered the post of manager, with perhaps the hint 
 at a future interest for himself; but that he should 
 be offered, at the outset, an interest equal to that of 
 the present owner was something of which he had 
 never dreamed. Unfortunately there was a condi- 
 tion attached to the offer which made its acceptance 
 impossible. 
 
 148
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 " You are too kind," he said slowly, more embar- 
 rassed than he had ever been before, " but I do 
 not " He hesitated, searching for words with 
 which to reject the proposal without hurting the old 
 man's pride. " That is, I had not thought of mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " Naturally not," replied Paris. " And I do not 
 expect or desire that you should decide at once. I 
 have thought for a long time about this, and it is 
 but natural that you should think, too, before de- 
 ciding. My daughter will make you a good wife, 
 as her mother has made me one. A man is never 
 contented or in a position to do the best work until 
 he has married and settled down. In such a life as 
 this you would need the relaxations of marriage. 
 Now, if you marry, it is of the greatest importance 
 that you should marry a girl to whom this would 
 be home and who would not be continually wishing 
 to go back to Europe or America. If you* married 
 one of your own countrywomen, she would not, prob- 
 ably, be willing to live in the Philippines." 
 
 Everton fell silent again, for he could find no 
 words with which to speak. His Spanish seemed to 
 have deserted him, and the three words " Yo no 
 quiero " were all that came to his mind. He wanted 
 to impress upon Paris the fact that, in his opinion, 
 
 144
 
 SENOR ISIDRO GIFES A BALL 
 
 marriage and business were separate departments of 
 life. Of course he could not tell him that when he 
 did marry it was more important that the woman 
 should be white than that she should be acclimated 
 to the Philippines. 
 
 " It is a serious question," said Paris, " and one 
 which, of course, concerns your whole life. A man 
 who decides in an hour, before breakfast, a matter 
 involving all the future years of his life is a fool; 
 and I do not want a fool for a son-in-law. Take 
 time to think it over." 
 
 " You must see, Senor, how extraordinary your 
 offer is," replied Everton, slowly. " I feel very 
 grateful for the honor you have done me but " 
 
 " But you are not in love with Mercedes is that 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes," admitted the other, reluctantly. " And 
 she is not in love with me," he added, meaning to 
 soften the effect of the ungallant monosyllable. 
 
 Paris laughed, and turning, placed a hand on each 
 of the younger man's shoulders. " I like you," he 
 said. " You are an honest man, and the kind of a 
 gentleman one does not meet too often. It often 
 happens in this world that two men need each other. 
 You and I are in that position now. I need you, 
 
 and you need me; I expect to profit by this, and so 
 10 145
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 shall you but don't expect an old man like me to 
 talk of love at five o'clock in the morning." 
 
 " I don't want to talk about love," replied the 
 American, smiling. " If there was any love in the 
 case it would be different, but I don't see what you 
 have to gain by this. Why do you need me ? I have 
 no capital, no experience, nothing that you need." 
 
 " You have honesty and a good heart, and I like 
 you," replied Paris. " And when you come to my 
 time of life, and have daughters of your own, you 
 will realize that there are things which a man values 
 more in a son-in-law than capital. Now, oblige me 
 by dropping the subject for the present. There is 
 no hurry." 
 
 But " 
 
 " Is it too much to ask, that you give it a week's 
 consideration ? " exclaimed Senor Isidro, with just 
 a touch of impatience in his voice. 
 
 It was not, certainly; and Everton felt that he 
 had been a trifle ungracious. Under the circum- 
 stances, an immediate answer was not obligatory, 
 and he could at his leisure, think of words in which 
 to frame his refusal. 
 
 "I will do so," he replied, hastily; "and in the 
 meantime I assure you that I appreciate the honor 
 you have paid me." 
 
 146
 
 SNOR ISIDRO GIFES A BALL 
 
 " Then let us leave the matter there," said Paris. 
 He reflected that when Everton had given a week's 
 consideration to the project he would favor it, and 
 he liked him none the less for not hastening to clinch 
 the bargain. 
 
 " Are you off for Iloilo ? " he added. 
 
 " Yes; I will start as soon as the lorcha is 
 ready." 
 
 " At your convenience. The boat is ready now. 
 I gave the order last night." 
 
 " Then I will start as soon as I have changed my 
 clothes," said Everton, briskly. " Good-night, or, 
 rather, good-morning." 
 
 He hurried to his room and quickly put off his 
 clothes, after which he had a cool sponge and donned 
 a fresh suit of white linen. In ten minutes he was 
 ready for the trip. He felt as refreshed by his bath 
 as though he had slept all night, instead of spending 
 it between the supper table and the ballroom. It 
 is a remarkable thing, this youth, which enables a 
 man to start the day after a sleepless night with a 
 greater vigor than that of a man of fifty, who has 
 slept eight hours. He opened his door and stepped 
 out into the hall. Upon the big, round table was a 
 steaming coffee-pot, and by it stood Senor Isidro. 
 
 " Coffee is better than wine to begin the day with," 
 147
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 he said, with a smile. " You will be in Iloilo for 
 breakfast at nine o'clock, if this wind holds." 
 
 The old man's unfailing thoughtfulness in little 
 things touched Everton. The remarkable offer which 
 Paris had made to him a few minutes before had 
 astonished him; but even that was not as remarkable, 
 had he but known it, as the kindness which the fam- 
 ily had shown him from the beginning. In wanting 
 to marry him to Mercedes, Paris had, as we have 
 seen, been actuated by motives of what he considered 
 his own best interest, but the care and attention which 
 he and his had shown to a sick and wounded soldier, 
 of an alien race, had been prompted by no selfish 
 motives. 
 
 The gray of dawn was in the room as the two 
 men drank their coffee, and this young man recalled 
 that other morning, when he had entered this room, 
 for the first time, in the arms of Sergeant Cassidy, 
 who was crying over him like any woman. A great 
 realizing sense of what he owed to Paris came to 
 him, and as he turned to go he held out his hand, 
 saying : 
 
 " Senor Isidro, I am fully conscious of your great 
 and unusual kindness to me. Some day I hope to 
 repay you." 
 
 "It is nothing, my son. I like you, and old 
 148
 
 SENOR ISIDRO GIPES A BALL 
 
 men take fancies, sometimes, as well as young girls. 
 Buen viaje ! " 
 
 " Adios ! " said Everton, running lightly down the 
 stairs, and mounting the horse which was to carry 
 him to the dock, off which there was just light enough 
 for him to discern the dim outline of the lorcha 
 making sail. 
 
 149
 
 Chapter X 
 THE MACTAVISH BUNGALOW 
 
 LOILO lay scorching beneath the fierce rays of 
 the sun or rather what was left of Iloilo 
 after the insurgent exodus. The few houses 
 which had remained standing when the retreating 
 force had fired the town threw back the blazing, 
 heated light from their corrugated iron roofs; the 
 white highways caught it, absorbed a part, and hurled 
 the rest in the face of the pedestrian. The dust, 
 which lay thick upon those white roads, was caught 
 up by each lumbering cariboo cart or army ambu- 
 lance and raised in a thick cloud, which hung sus- 
 pended in the dead, stifling atmosphere for many 
 moments after the disturbing element was past. 
 Block after block of ruined, blackened walls aided 
 the streets in their melancholy task of indicating the 
 original outline of the town. 
 
 The Chinese those thrifty money-seekers who are 
 so often to be found restoring the arts of peace after 
 
 the ravages of war had moved into the ruins, estab- 
 
 150
 
 THE M ACT AY IS H BUNGALOW 
 
 lishing their shops for the sale of general merchan- 
 dise under temporary roofs and within the blackened 
 walls. 
 
 It was a day when natives, who had been born 
 and raised under that fierce, tropical sun, would 
 slink along the street, keeping carefully within the 
 shade of the ruined walls, while American soldiers, 
 just out from home, exposed themselves recklessly 
 in the Plaza " out shopping for experience," as 
 Everton tersely expressed it. 
 
 An American army mule, his long ears drooping 
 from the heat, stood in the middle of the street which 
 runs along the river front. It was such heat as 
 sometimes, within a few hours, drives men mad from 
 thirst; such heat as Everton had not experienced in 
 all the months he had spent on Negros. It seemed 
 to him that by crossing the narrow Straits that morn- 
 ing he had come into a different zone. 
 
 The little veranda overhanging Calle Real was 
 the only place which seemed to offer any shelter or 
 coolness, and it belonged to the one dwelling-house 
 on the street, the other buildings being offices, ware- 
 houses, and " godowns." It chanced that when the 
 flames had swept over Hoilo they had overlooked that 
 portion of the town which extended from the Cap- 
 tain of the Port's office to the Plaza. A score of 
 
 151
 
 D4NIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 offices and dwellings, a bank, and the church were 
 left to show that the town had been only common- 
 place, as Spanish towns in the tropics usually are. 
 
 It was two o'clock, and the hour of the siesta. 
 Four men occupied the little veranda four men 
 who had gathered there from four distant corners of 
 the earth. All were in a state of negligee bordering 
 on the undressed, and they had tiffined as well as 
 was possible in Iloilo in those days. 
 
 There was MacTavish : small, Scotch, and kindly, 
 with a slow speech and a quick eye. Johnson: yel- 
 low, bilious, and resigned. He had come East for 
 an English firm eight years before, and never spoke 
 of " home " as the others did. Said he meant to die 
 out there, and drank enough whisky to indicate that 
 he meant what he said. There was also an Amer- 
 ican officer named O'Connor, a thin, muscular speci- 
 men of the army man, who could never by any chance 
 be taken for anything but a soldier. His idea of a 
 military life was fighting, and he had in his heart a 
 strong, half -concealed contempt for all men who had 
 never been soldiers. Everton made the fourth, and 
 he lay at length in a cane chair, lazily puffing at his 
 perf ecto cigar and watching the noisy efforts of some 
 native boatmen, who were poling their parao slowly 
 up stream. 
 
 152
 
 THE MACTAYISH BUNGALOW 
 
 MacTavish was the merchant who had purchased 
 the season's output of sugar from the Paris hacienda, 
 and, business concluded, he had insisted on Everton's 
 remaining to tiffin. The Scotchman had spent most 
 of his life in the East, and it never occurred to him 
 that business could be carried on without the aid 
 of whisky-and-sodas, tiffin and cigars. Everton 
 had been only too glad to accept the invitation, for 
 after the work of the morning he was beginning to 
 realize that he had passed a sleepless night, and a 
 pleasant drowsiness was stealing over him. 
 
 There was a very faint breeze down at the river's 
 mouth, a few hundred yards away, but it was not 
 strong enough to reach the little veranda, on which 
 the thermometer registered one hundred and five 
 degrees. 
 
 " I wonder," said MacTavish, as he removed his 
 collar and threw it unceremoniously onto the floor, 
 " why Gawd made this place? " 
 
 " For the same reason he made some men fools 
 enough to come and live here, I suppose," replied 
 Johnson. 
 
 " Drink less whisky and take more exercise," sug- 
 gested O'Connor; " then you won't feel the heat. 
 Look at me." 
 
 " Ay, look at him," said MacTavish. " He looks 
 153
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 like my monkey did last rains, when I'd left him 
 out in the compound over night. He was near 
 drowned by morning." 
 
 The perspiration had soaked through O'Connor's 
 khaki blouse in a big, dark blotch. " All right," he 
 said, " look at me. I may be sweaty, but I am the 
 most contented man in the outfit at that. You civil- 
 ians live too high. Wait till you've marched 
 through a few days like this, with no water and no 
 shade, and you'll have something to complain about. 
 Then you'll learn how to appreciate iced drinks and 
 long chairs." 
 
 " Which is another way of putting that old 
 woman's philosophy about there being nothing so 
 bad but that you can find something worse, if you 
 go out and hunt for it," retorted MacTavish. 
 
 " Why do you live here if you don't like it ? " 
 continued O'Connor. 
 
 " Not for fun, I assure you. Why are you here 
 yourself, may I ask? " 
 
 * Because I'm stationed here." 
 
 " So am I. I've a commanding officer by the 
 name of Necessity. If I had money, I'd clear out 
 fast enough." 
 
 " Shut up ! " said Johnson. " You're too old a 
 stager to be complaining, MacTavish." 
 
 154
 
 THE MACTAVISH BUNGALOW 
 
 " I've wished myself dead more than once the last 
 year, notwithstanding," said the Scotchman. 
 
 " Take some calomel," suggested the other. 
 
 The conversation lagged, for there is nothing, with 
 the exception of horse-racing and women, which will 
 make men in the East prolong any discussion when 
 the temperature mounts above a hundred degrees. 
 During the long silence, MacTavish dropped off to 
 sleep. His cigar fell from his thick lips, hung for 
 a second in his gray beard, to the great menace of 
 that appendage, and then landed on his shirt. John- 
 son called Everton's attention to it. 
 
 "Do you see that?" he asked. "Well, he does 
 that every day, and has ever since we've lived here." 
 He picked up the smoldering stub and tossed it into 
 the street. " Some day I won't be here, and then 
 he'll burn up. Silly ass ! " 
 
 " Who's that ? " inquired MacTavish, awakening as 
 suddenly as he had fallen asleep. 
 
 " Referring to you," said his friend, shortly, re- 
 lighting his own cigar, which had gone out. " If 
 it wasn't for me, you'd have no shirts left. You've 
 tried to set yourself on fire again." 
 
 " I'm obliged to you," said MacTavish, with dig- 
 nity. 
 
 As he spoke, one of the windows in the adjoining 
 155
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 house was pushed slowly open, and a very much 
 bedraggled and frowzy head was thrust forth. It 
 was followed by a pair of shoulders incased in a 
 soiled Mother Hubbard wrapper, beneath which 
 there was a form from which all feminine comeli- 
 ness had long since departed. It was an old Span- 
 ish woman, who seemed to regard herself as so much 
 superior to the natives around her that she did not 
 trouble to keep clean or tidy reflecting, no doubt, 
 that, there being no one but the aforesaid natives to 
 see her, the effort was not justified by her surround- 
 ings. A tired smile illumined her fat face when she 
 saw MacTavish, and she bowed slightly. Then she 
 shouted something in a shrill voice to a little mestizo, 
 child, who was playing, half naked, in the street be- 
 low, and drew in her head. 
 
 " Who's your friend ? " asked O'Connor. 
 
 " It's the Senora Carmen, who owns this house," 
 answered MacTavish. " Have to keep on good terms 
 with her. If I didn't, there would be nothing left 
 in the house." 
 
 " How is that ? " inquired O'Connor. 
 
 " It's the Castilian way of doing business. We 
 rented the house furnished three years ago. And 
 it was furnished when we moved in. She came 
 over the next morning and borrowed three chairs 
 
 156
 
 THE MACTAYISH BUNGALOW 
 
 from the dining-room. A few days afterwards, 
 when we were out, she came back and borrowed the 
 sideboard without asking permission. I sent word 
 to her that she'd better have the table and make 
 the set complete. I thought she'd appreciate the 
 fine sarcasm of it, so I sent Pedro with the message. 
 He came back in five minutes with two other ser- 
 vants, and away went the table. The laugh was on 
 me that time. Since then she has borrowed most 
 of the furniture that was in the house when we came, 
 and a good bit of what we've bought. None of the 
 things are ever returned. And besides all that, 
 she's raised the rent." 
 
 " I don't see," said O'Connor, who had an Irish- 
 man's eye for pretty women, " why Senor Carmen 
 went to the trouble and expense of importing that 
 lady from Spain. I should rather have had a 
 native." 
 
 " She was a widow, up to two months ago," an- 
 swered MacTavish, " and has an interesting history. 
 She was married in September to a young man in 
 Manila, by proxy." 
 
 " By proxy ? " inquired Everton, puzzled. 
 
 " Yes ; she down here, and he up there. She 
 made a big time of it you know she's very rich 
 and had a ball after the ceremony. Lloyd, who is 
 
 157
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 in the cable office, was best man, and there being 
 no groom to sober up for the ceremony, he got full 
 himself the night before, and didn't show up till 
 the church part was over. The Senora sent up a 
 lot of money to bring the young bridegroom he is 
 twenty-five and she is sixty down from Manila. 
 That was two months ago, and he hasn't shown up 
 
 yet." 
 
 " What you might call a gold brick investment," 
 said O'Connor, putting his feet upon the railing and 
 loosening his blouse. " I suppose he is off taking 
 a honeymoon by himself in Hongkong." 
 
 " I don't wonder that she looks blue, under the 
 circumstances," said Everton. " Do you have many 
 marriages like that out here ? " 
 
 "No; not many. There are only a few Spanish 
 women. Never were many outside of Manila. Most 
 of the Spaniards married natives." 
 
 " Judging by the Spanish women I have seen out 
 here, I would rather marry a native, myself, than 
 one of them," yawned O'Connor. 
 
 " Right you are," said MacTavish. " If a man 
 has to live out here, he might do worse than marry 
 a native. I know several fellows who have." 
 
 " How did the marriages turn out? " inquired 
 
 Everton. 
 
 168
 
 THE M ACT APISH BUNGALOW 
 
 " They seem to have turned out as well as the 
 average marriages do at home." 
 
 " I should think," said O'Connor, " that some of 
 these girls ought to make pretty good wives." 
 
 " They live altogether for their husbands," said\ 
 Johnson, " have a child every year for twenty years, 
 and then die. That ought to be devotion enough 
 for any man." 
 
 " I don't suppose there could be any companion- / 
 ship with one of them," Everton continued. 
 
 " If it's companionship you're after," retorted 
 MacTavish, " you had better go and live in a club. 
 Women are the same the world over. Once they 
 get married, children and housekeeping are all they 
 care about. The most you can hope for is a good 
 temper, and your Filipina has that. The white 
 man who marries one of them gets a devoted wife 
 and is the head of his own house, and don't you for- 
 get it. That's more than can be said for some mar- \ 
 ried men at home." 
 
 " You know a lot about it you do ! " sneered 
 Johnson, mixing himself another whisky-and-soda. 
 In the years that were gone Johnson had loved a 
 woman. It was only a memory with him now, but 
 it is not a bad thing to have such memories, and to 
 
 his was due the fact that Johnson was not in some 
 
 159
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 ways worse than he was which was not saying a 
 great deal, after all. The memory was accompanied 
 by a great respect for women, as such, and in the 
 arguments with MacTavish, in which the opposite 
 sex formed so frequent a subject for discussion, he 
 usually found it incumbent on him to defend the sex 
 in general, for the sake of that memory. 
 
 " A man could doubtless be very happy with a 
 Filipino girl, if he understood her," he said. 
 
 " Hear the man talk ! " said MacTavish. " Was 
 there ever a man that understood a woman ? " 
 
 " I dare say," replied Everton; " but she doesn't 
 always happen to marry that particular one." 
 
 " Well," said O'Connor, " I wouldn't mind tying 
 up to a native, if I could find one with a big, rich 
 hacienda and half-a-dozen town houses like the one 
 next door." 
 
 " If the by-proxy bridegroom doesn't show up, you 
 might try your luck with the Senora Carmen. She 
 ought to be in just the mood to marry again, out of 
 
 pique," suggested MacTavish. 
 
 '*""** 
 
 " Did you ever meet a native woman who could 
 
 talk keep her end up, so to speak? " inquired 
 Everton. 
 
 " Well, rather," replied Johnson. " They are by 
 
 no means the playthings you might suppose. On 
 
 160
 
 THE MACTAVISH BUNGALOW 
 
 the average, they talk quite as well as our women do 
 at home."^] 
 
 " Oh, come off ! " exclaimed HacTavish, becoming 
 more thoroughly awake than he had been at any 
 time since tiffin. 
 
 " It's true. You've got to take their surround- 
 ings into consideration. They have no life outside 
 of their own little towns, but there's precious little 
 goes on in those towns that they can't talk about as 
 well as the men." 
 
 " You mean," said Everton, " that, having no 
 books, theaters, or other resources of the outside 
 world, they are necessarily narrow? " 
 
 " I might put it that way if I was writing a book 
 on the subject," admitted Johnson. " However, if 
 they did have all those things they'd make more out 
 of them than your women do. Why, go into any 
 of their houses; you'll find, say, fifty books in the 
 place, and almost every girl in the house has read all 
 of them. Your women may have five thousand, but 
 they don't read any of them." 
 
 " What do you mean by our women ? " demanded 
 O'Connor. " Do you mean American girls ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What do you know about them? " 
 
 11 I've been in the States came out that way last 
 11 161
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 time. I spent two days in New York and two weeks 
 in Chicago." 
 
 O'Connor greeted this statement with a derisive 
 laugh, in which Everton joined. " You may not 
 have met all the brightest American women in that 
 time," suggested the latter. " I know several who 
 were not in either city at the time." 
 
 " I don't say that I did, of course," persisted John- 
 son ; " though I met some very nice women. But 
 I know one thing, and that is that a Filipino girl, 
 who had had the same advantages those girls had, 
 would have made more out of them." 
 r " Education and advantages be damned ! " said 
 O'Connor, positively. " Give me a white skin." 
 
 " Oh, if it's beauty you're after," cried MacTavish, 
 " the native women average up a lot better than the 
 
 whites." 
 
 
 ' l What's that got to do with it ? No man marries 
 
 what he considers the ' average ' woman. She's 
 usually the only one of the kind on earth for him." 
 " What are you men arguing about, anyway ? " 
 asked Everton, looking off toward the Captain of the 
 Port's office and wondering when the mail would be 
 signaled, for there was one due from the United 
 States. " Do you mean that any one of you men 
 
 would marry a native ? " 
 
 162
 
 THE MACTAY1SH BUNGALOW 
 
 " MacTavish's the oldest," said Johnson. " There- 
 fore, let him be the first to speak." 
 
 " I disclaim the seniority," replied the Scotchman, 
 " but don't mind saying that if I was a marrying 
 man, and had to live out here, I would as lief marry 
 a native as a white woman provided I liked her." 
 
 " Put in a few more conditions," sneered Johnson. 
 
 " I wonder if a man could take a native woman 
 back home with him," asked Everton. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so. If there was nothing the 
 matter with her leprosy or small-pox, for instance," 
 replied O'Connor. " There's nothing in the immi- 
 gration laws to prevent." 
 
 " I mean, would she be received in society ? " 
 
 " That depends on the society, of course." 
 
 " Surely you get my point? Do you believe that 
 now that we have taken possession of these islands 
 we will look upon the inhabitants as social equals, or 
 regard them as we do the negroes at home ? " 
 
 " I won't, for one," replied O'Connor. " They're 
 not niggers, by a damn sight ! " 
 L" If you'll excuse my saying it," interrupted Mac- 
 Tavish, " there's no telling what you won't do with 
 them. You'll go to one extreme or the other. You'll 
 treat them as equals or else as niggers, and they are 
 
 neither the one nor the other. They are better than 
 
 163
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 any of the Orientals except, perhaps, the Japanese 
 but they're not the equals of white men." 
 
 " I guess we'll learn how to manage them fast 
 enough," retorted O'Connor, who was nothing if not 
 patriotic and imbued with the utmost confidence in 
 his own government. 
 
 " Shut up," said Johnson. " It's too hot to talk 
 of politics." 
 
 " It's never too hot to show a man the error of 
 his ways," replied the Scotchman, " particularly a 
 military man. They're notoriously pig-headed." 
 
 Thinking it time to change the subject, Johnson 
 proposed a siesta. " Let's start the punkah and 
 sleep until tea time," he said. 
 
 " Is that the way you fellows do business out 
 here ? " inquired O'Connor. " Sleep all the after- 
 noon?" 
 
 " This is an off day," said MacTavish. " There 
 will be a mail in from Manila to-night, and we shall 
 be busy enough to-morrow. Hello ! " he exclaimed a 
 moment later, rising to his feet, and indicating, with 
 a wave of his hairy, brown hand, the signal staff at 
 the Captain of the Port's office : " Talking of the 
 mail boat, there she is now." 
 
 The others glanced up in time to see a little black 
 
 ball creep to the top of the staff and hang there, 
 
 164
 
 THE MACTAYISH BUNGALOW 
 
 swaying in the breeze. It was the time-honored 
 method of announcing to the little town, that news 
 had come in from the outside world. 
 
 " Let's go over after tea and get our letters," sug- 
 gested O'Connor. 
 
 " What's the hurry expect one from your girl ? " 
 asked MacTavish. 
 
 " Possibly." 
 
 " Look out, or you'll have my experience." 
 
 "What was that?" 
 
 " I had a girl, too, when I first came out more 
 years ago than I like to think of," explained the 
 Scotchman. " It was in the days when the home 
 mails only got down on the average once in two 
 months. My girl forgot to write one mail, and I 
 was all in a sweat by the time the next one was due, 
 not having heard for four months. So, when the 
 mail was signaled, I rushed off to the post-office and 
 stood in line before the delivery window with a lot 
 of natives. All the other fellows thought I was 
 crazy, naturally enough. What I got, at last, was 
 an announcement of her marriage. No letter; just 
 the cold, plain facts. Since then I've never loved. 
 That's the story of my life." 
 
 " Half a page of it, you mean ; you Lothario, you," 
 said Johnson. 
 
 165
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Speaking of women/' said Everton. " Isn't that 
 a white one up there ? " 
 
 " Where ? " inquired O'Connor, becoming of a sud- 
 den very wide-awake and interested. " I haven't 
 seen one in a year." 
 
 " Well, here's your chance, then. Look at her. 
 She's coming this way." 
 
 O'Connor glanced in the direction indicated, and 
 beheld a dilapidated little victoria, drawn by two 
 horses which looked as though they had but recently 
 been captured up in the hills, and harnessed with a 
 harness which was composed chiefly of rope, having 
 been repaired so often that there was nothing but 
 the repaired parts left. The little turnout came 
 down the street from the Plaza at a rapid pace; so 
 rapid as to threaten the ramshackle little outfit with 
 a fate similar to that of the celebrated " One-Horse 
 Shay." As it passed under the veranda on which the 
 four men were sitting, the occupant, a small, thin, 
 tired-looking woman of uncertain age, looked up and 
 bowed wearily to Johnson. 
 
 " She's the wife of one of your officers," explained 
 MacTavish, in response to Everton's inquiry, " and 
 was a good-looker when she came here three or four 
 months ago. You wouldn't believe it now, would 
 
 you?" 
 
 166
 
 THE MACTAVISH BUNGALOW 
 
 " She does look as though she was on her last legs/' 
 said O'Connor. " What's the matter? " 
 
 " Nothing in particular that I know of. Just an 
 example of what the climate can do. Hell of a place 
 this! " 
 
 " I don't believe she could have been anything re- 
 markable when she came, or she wouldn't have lost 
 all her looks in that time," said Everton. 
 
 " Two years in the tropics will make a rag of the 
 most beautiful woman," replied Johnson. 
 
 " If a white man can live down here, why not a 
 white woman ? " 
 
 " Because," said Johnson, who took it upon him- 
 self to answer for MacTavish, since that individual 
 had fallen asleep, " they don't drink enough to 
 forget the climate, and have nothing to do but think 
 about it all day. Men have work to do." 
 
 " There may be something in that," admitted 
 Everton. 
 
 " There certainly is especially the part about not 
 drinking enough," said Johnson, with a coarse laugh, 
 and reaching forth a trembling hand for the bottle 
 of Dewar's Scotch. "Have some more whisky?" 
 
 " No, thanks," replied Everton, unable to suppress 
 a slight feeling of disgust. " I can't drink with you 
 
 men." 
 
 167
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Something you'd better learn, then," said the 
 other, pouring himself out a four-finger drink and 
 diluting it with soda. " That is, if you mean to live 
 in the East" 
 
 Everton made no reply to this observation, and 
 before long the whisky, which was in the nature of 
 a last straw, sent Johnson off to sleep. His head 
 sagged forward onto his chest, and his thin frame 
 seemed to shrivel up like a dead man's. He was 
 not the only one to drop asleep ; O'Connor soon fol- 
 lowed his example, and MacTavish was already dead 
 to the world, and had been for some moments. Ever- 
 ton was the only one who remained awake, and he 
 lay back in his long chair with half -closed eyes, look- 
 ing out across the paddy-fields toward the dome of 
 the Jaro church, and dreaming. Whatever the na- 
 ture of his day-dreams, they were interrupted shortly 
 by a series of chocking sounds, which issued from the 
 great, red throat of MacTavish. The Scotchman 
 was snoring, and his snores were both aggressive and 
 appealing. When one heard them, he did not know 
 whether to play the Samaritan and open the man's 
 collar, or the enemy, and throw something at his 
 bloated face. Between his snores his breath came 
 with a wheezing sound that suggested approaching 
 
 dissolution. 
 
 168
 
 THE MACTAflSH BUNGALOW 
 
 He was not an attractive sight. Everton glanced 
 from him to the array of empty whisky and soda 
 bottles on the table, and then let his glance fall to 
 the floor, which was littered with burnt matches and 
 cigar stubs. 
 
 Suddenly there came over the young man a feeling 
 of disgust that was strong and painful. He found 
 himself wondering with a sort of terror whether he 
 would ever come to be like these men if he settled 
 in the Philippines. If this was what life in the 
 tropics meant, how much better it would be to go 
 home and starve in a cold, vigorous climate than to 
 remain in such a land and amass wealth ! 
 
 As he was indulging in these and similar reflec- 
 tions, not over-complimentary to his hosts, his eye 
 happened to fall once more on the mail signal. It 
 was cooler now, and it occurred to him to steal away, 
 while the others were sleeping, and go and see if 
 there were any letters for him. Very carefully he 
 arose and tiptoed into the house and down the stairs. 
 Leaving word with the muchacho at the foot of the 
 stairs, who awoke to receive the message and fell 
 asleep again to forget it, that he would be back for 
 dinner, he left the house and strolled slowly up to- 
 ward the post-office. 
 
 When he reached it, he walked up to the little 
 169
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 window and asked for his mail, elbowing his way 
 through the crowd of soldiers who were idling about 
 and waiting for the afternoon drill. After a mo- 
 ment's delay, one letter was handed out. It was in 
 his father's handwriting, and, putting it into his 
 pocket, he turned once more and strolled slowly back 
 toward the river. 
 
 170
 
 Chapter XI 
 THE PRICE OF A REPUTATION 
 
 HEKE was a shady little retreat down at the 
 river's edge, not far from where it lost its 
 muddy waters in the deep, salt blue of the 
 harbor, and it was toward this spot that Everton 
 turned his steps, that he might be alone. It was a 
 picturesque place, under the crumbling sides of a 
 building so old that the flames had scarce thought 
 it worth their while to destroy it, in view of the fact 
 that time and neglect were doing the work so thor- 
 oughly. Before he reached it the sun had cast a 
 long shadow under its eastern walls, and in this 
 grateful shade he sat down to read his letter. 
 
 There are probably no two persons in the world 
 who would receive in exactly the same manner a 
 great sorrow or a great joy. Daniel Everton was one 
 of those men who are led instinctively to combat a 
 calamity first and grieve over it, if need be, after- 
 wards. Almost before he had finished reading, and 
 
 before sorrow for his father's dishonorable act had 
 
 171
 
 DANIEL EVERTQN, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 had time to come to him in full force, as it did 
 afterwards, he bent all the energies of his active 
 mind to a consideration of the facts and an attempt 
 to solve the problem of what was best to be done. 
 
 He did not allow any feeling of grief to master 
 him, and yet, in all the years of his life, he had 
 known of such bitter reading but once; when he 
 had opened the telegram announcing his mother's 
 death. That was seven years before, and he still 
 recalled at times the anguish of the moment. 
 
 He was older now, and his sensibilities were not 
 what they had been then, but the blow he received 
 that afternoon was hard to bear. Dishonor was one 
 of the things in life which it had never occurred to 
 him to prepare for, or to expect. It had come now, 
 however, or would come shortly, unless something 
 could be done to prevent it. 
 
 It was not a difficult situation to grasp, and the 
 facts of the case had been set forth with conciseness 
 and precision in his father's letter, so that they were 
 at once understood and absorbed. 
 
 The all-important element in the case was, that, 
 unless his father could raise in some magical way, 
 and within the next five months, the very consider- 
 able sum of thirty thousand dollars, he would be 
 
 172
 
 THE PRICE OF A REPUTATION 
 
 forever ruined and disgraced. It seemed to Daniel 
 Everton, bred to consider himself the future inheri- 
 tor of a handsome fortune, that thirty thousand dol- 
 lars was a small sum, for the want of which a proud 
 name should be dragged down and an old man's life 
 wrecked; but, to all purposes, it was as bad a deficit 
 as ten times that sum. 
 
 The son's heart was full of pity as he thought of 
 the desperate plight of the old man. It did not 
 occur to him to blame. We are all of us governed 
 in our judgments of people to a very large degree 
 by personal prejudice. Marshall Everton had been 
 a good father, and his son was one of the few men 
 fortunate enough to appreciate a good father, before 
 it is too late for their appreciation to do anything 
 except fill their hearts with vain regrets. 
 
 As he thought of him, there came suddenly to 
 the son a mental picture of what the father had 
 endured during the past year. He realized all at 
 once how the long days and nights had been passed 
 haunted by the specter of dishonor and disgrace. 
 As though by some mysterious telepathy, he could 
 see his father, weakened and old and ill. While 
 the two men had not lived in the very closest sym- 
 pathy which is possible between father and son, they 
 
 had always been sincerely and quietly attached to 
 
 178
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 each other. The younger man's affection had been 
 increased by two years of development and self- 
 denial, for there is nothing like hardship and failure 
 for strengthening the home ties and bringing out 
 the full measure of a silent feeling. The love of 
 a young man for his father is too often written upon 
 the page of his life with invisible ink. It needs a 
 few hot tears dropped upon it to bring it out in full 
 legibility. 
 
 As he thought of the quiet, self-contained old man, 
 Daniel Everton knew what the writing of the letter 
 had cost. He allowed his thoughts to dwell upon the 
 melancholy picture for a moment, and then bent 
 them steadily to the consideration of what was best 
 to be done. On one point his mind was already 
 made up; he would save that father, no matter what 
 the cost. 
 
 Without hearing, his ear listened to the washing 
 of the tide, as it rose steadily and flooded the boggy 
 paddy-fields on his right and carried the current of 
 the river back upon itself in whirling, seething eddies. 
 Without seeing, his eyes rested upon two dirty, sea- 
 scarred steamers, which lay a half mile out, their 
 flags hanging limply, and their rusty, patchy sides 
 cooking in the sun. Then his eye traveled on over 
 the wooded hills of Guimaras until it rested upon the 
 
 174
 
 Daniel Everton knew what the 
 writing of the letter had cost
 
 THE PRICE OF A REPUTATION 
 
 far off violet outline of the mountains of Negros. 
 There it lingered and sent a message to the searching 
 brain. The brain received it eagerly and turned it 
 over rejected it, and then took it back again. There 
 was nothing unworthy of consideration which was 
 not in itself dishonorable, and the case called for 
 extreme measures. 
 
 There was but one thing to be done, and that was 
 to raise thirty thousand dollars; but one way to do it, 
 and that was to marry Mercedes Paris. Her father 
 had offered him a half interest in the hacienda, with 
 his daughter's hand, and it would be a simple matter 
 to borrow on such security the money needed to save 
 Marshall Everton's good name. He could pay it 
 back in a few years. The very simplicity of the 
 arrangement made him heartsick. 
 
 And then, with the thought of marriage, came the 
 memory of the woman he had loved. It seemed a 
 strange fate, that this girl from whom his father 
 had stolen there was no use mincing terms should 
 be the same to whom he had offered the great love of 
 his life, and who had refused it. 
 
 His mind wandered here, and he found himself 
 
 wondering how she would feel toward him if she 
 
 175
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 knew that his father was an embezzler. The agony 
 of the thought was almost past endurance. Was 
 any price too high to pay that this knowledge might 
 never reach her ? 
 
 The greatest hope of his life had been for a mar- 
 riage with her. He had failed. That was all a 
 matter of the past. His love was not dead, but it 
 was subdued; and for the rest there was duty, as 
 he might be able to see it. 
 
 He was thirty years of age, which is not old; but 
 which is also not young, from the standpoint of a 
 man who has been trained to no regular work. He 
 had about resolved to remain in the Far East even 
 before this last blow fell. Was it not better to 
 marry the gentle, little mestizo, than to see his father 
 dragged down to ruin, and the grave ? If this load 
 was to be lifted, that father might live on to a ripe 
 old age. He had failed to get the One Woman, and 
 as far as his personal feelings went, nothing mat- 
 tered, anyhow certainly they were not to be con- 
 sidered in the face of this appalling alternative. 
 
 He need never return to the United States. In 
 the Philippines he would be but one of many similar 
 instances before long. Must the old man be crushed 
 when a word from him would save him? 
 
 " Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days 
 176
 
 THE PRICE OF A REPUTATION 
 
 may be long in the land which the Lord thy God 
 giveth thee." 
 
 Yes ; it could be done. 
 
 Would he, if he did this thing, and sank himself 
 in the mire of such a marriage to save another 
 would he be acting honorably toward the other per- 
 son most concerned toward the girl herself? For 
 a moment he felt as tho this view of the situation 
 saved him from the fate which seemed the only one 
 left open. 
 
 No ! When Mercedes married, her father would, 
 in all probability, arrange the matter; and if not 
 himself, it would be some one who would not, per- 
 haps, do as much for her happiness. It seemed to 
 be the custom of the race to arrange marriages in 
 that way, and she would be better off as his wife 
 than as the wife of Mispall, for instance. 
 
 (JHis wife ! How the thought sickened him. He 
 ground his heel into the sand. Cassidy would call 
 her a " naygur." Mrs. Daniel Everton Senora 
 Everton ! with bare feet in straw slippers, and hair 
 smelling of cocoanut oil. Great God!f 
 
 He thought of MacTavish and Johnson, who were 
 even now waiting for him to come in to dinner, and 
 12 177
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 recalled their conversation about native marriages. 
 Why, under the circumstances, and since he was to be 
 the agent of destiny merely, had not God given him a 
 soul like unto those of these men ? They would con- 
 gratulate him when they heard of his engagement, 
 and probably envy him a little. And his own world, 
 if it remembered him, would despise. For once he 
 was thankful that it was a world which finds it easy 
 to forget. 
 
 When the sun had long set and the moon had 
 risen, throwing its soft light over the harbor and 
 the silent, sleeping town, he arose and turned his 
 steps once more toward the MacTavish bungalow. 
 
 And that night, for the first time in his life, 
 Daniel Everton, soldier, gentleman, and winner of 
 the Medal of Honor, drank deep and often. And 
 because he was their guest, and because it was their 
 nightly habit, anyway, Johnson and MacTavish 
 drank with him until they had left him far behind, 
 and then raced each other down the road to drunken- 
 ness until they neared its end, and were relieved by 
 insensibility from going any farther. 
 
 The next morning there sped, by land and sea, a 
 
 cable message to New York, which read : " Yours 
 
 178
 
 THE PRICE OF A REPUTATION 
 
 received; will send thirty thousand within six weeks. 
 Letter explains." 
 
 And by evening there came back over the wires 
 the most singular message ever sent from one man 
 to another across the earth. It was unsigned, and 
 consisted of but three words, and those three were, 
 " God bless you." 
 
 With this message in his pocket, and the courage 
 of self-sacrifice in his heart, Daniel Everton boarded 
 his lorcha and set sail once more for Negros. And 
 in his heart, in addition to the courage before men- 
 tioned, there was a very black despair. 
 
 179
 
 Chapter XII 
 
 MRS. CARTWR1GHT MAKES THE TEA 
 
 0, my dear," said Mrs. Cartwright, emphat- 
 ically, " I certainly should not want a 
 daughter of mine to marry into the army." 
 It seemed to Mabel Cartwright, who was the only 
 one in the world that could disobey her mother's 
 wishes in the premises, being an only daughter, and, 
 indeed, an only child, that there was little immediate 
 danger of her marrying into the army, or out of it. 
 Mabel was twenty-nine and plain, and plain girls, as 
 a rule, do not marry after thirty. This one sighed 
 gently, which was her customary method of respond- 
 ing to her mother's forcibly expressed views. It was 
 after five o'clock, but the heat was still sufficiently 
 intense to take the animation out of a pretty woman 
 and hope out of a plain one. 
 
 Constance Fairchild, to whom the remark had 
 been addressed, paused to consider it before reply- 
 ing. " Why not ? " she inquired at length, taking 
 
 a biscuit from the tin on the table and carefully 
 
 180
 
 MRS. CARTWRIGHT MAKES THE TEA 
 
 blowing off a red ant therefrom before putting it to 
 her lips. 
 
 " Simply because I should not wish my own ex- 
 perience to be hers," rejoined the older woman, 
 deftly extinguishing the alcohol lamp beneath her 
 Chinese, silver teapot, and searching for a handker- 
 chief with which to grasp the hot handle. " I think 
 that every woman should have a home. I've never 
 had one. Since I married Colonel Cartwright, we 
 have lived in forty different houses, and that's no 
 life for a woman. It's all very well while you're 
 young and the romance of the thing lasts, but when 
 you get on in life it's different." 
 
 Constance did not reply immediately. She won- 
 dered vaguely whether there had ever been a great 
 deal of what her cousin termed " the romance of the 
 thing " between Mrs. Cartwright and the compara- 
 tively silent, simple-mannered Major. 
 
 " It seems a bit hard on the army officers that 
 theory of yours. Some of them have really given 
 a very good account of themselves the last three 
 years." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that. If army officers were 
 compelled by the Regulations to remain single, it 
 might prove a blessing in disguise. If a man has to 
 
 apend his life in God-forsaken parts of the earth, 
 
 181
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 he can get along better without having a family to 
 worry over." 
 
 " I suppose they don't always consider that," said 
 Constance. She had arrived in Manila a month be- 
 fore, and in that short space of time no less than 
 three young officers had besought her to " worry " 
 them through life. 
 
 " Young men are not given to considering the 
 matter from a common-sense standpoint, in the army 
 or out of it," replied her cousin. " Dear me ! " she 
 added, " these ants are really dreadful. I do be- 
 lieve there is one walking up and down my back ! " 
 
 " You'd better take a bath in kerosene, mamma,' ; 
 suggested Mabel. " It's the only thing that seems 
 to do any good. The whole place is swimming in 
 it." 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright made no reply to the suggestion, 
 but resumed her discourse at the point where the 
 bite of the little red insect had interrupted it. 
 
 " I do hope, my dear," she said, addressing Con- 
 stance, " that you will not allow any romantic ideas 
 about war and heroes and brass buttons and all the 
 rest of it to influence you. I should never forgive 
 myself if, just through my bringing you out here, 
 you married an army officer." 
 
 Constance smiled. She was amused at the idea 
 182
 
 MRS. CARTWRIGHT MAKES THE TEA 
 
 that any one but herself could be held responsible 
 for her matrimonial blunder, if she made one. " I 
 am somewhat of a fatalist in such matters," she re- 
 plied. " When my time comes if it ever does I 
 shall marry the man, whether he's an army officer 
 or a priest." 
 
 " The former is quite as much out of the question 
 as the latter. One of your type could never be 
 happy in the army. You're not the sort. The girl 
 for the army is one who has been born and brought 
 up in it, and who could never be happy anywhere 
 else. There are girls who are just as daft as that 
 on the subject." 
 
 " A girl who couldn't be happy ' anywhere else,' 
 with the right man for a husband, would be a poor 
 specimen," declared Miss Fairchild, positively. 
 
 " You are too literal. I hope you won't put any 
 of your theories into practice." 
 
 " I was not aware that I had expressed any 
 theories," replied Constance, smiling. 
 
 " Perhaps not, my dear," said Mrs. Cartwright, 
 returning the smile and regarding her young pro- 
 tegee with affection. " I don't think you are the 
 kind to be affected by externals." 
 
 " Such as gold eagles, and crossed rifles and 
 things," suggested Constance. 
 
 188
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " No; nor silver stars either, for that matter." 
 
 " It seems to me you are rather hard on the service, 
 mamma," protested Mabel Cartwright, rising and 
 crossing to the open window. " If army people run 
 down the army, I don't see who there is to stand up 
 for it." 
 
 " I am not abusing the army, my dear," pro- 
 tested Mrs. Cartwright. " It's a very necessary in- 
 stitution, no doubt; but I believe " 
 
 "In letting some one else belong to it? ""inter- 
 rupted Constance; "is that it?" 
 
 " Some one has to carry arms," said Mabel. " For 
 my part, I am proud to belong to the army." 
 
 "Bravo, Mabel!" 
 
 " Thank you, Constance. You understand how I 
 feel. Mother never seems to." 
 
 " Don't abuse your mother, my love. Mothers 
 are necessary institutions as well as armies. Per- 
 haps yours understands you a little, too." 
 
 " Forgive me. I didn't mean to be rude," said 
 Mabel, seating herself on the window-ledge and turn- 
 ing a tired profile to the room. 
 
 " You couldn't be, if you tried," said Constance, 
 gently, laying her hand on Mabel's. She had 
 crossed the room to where her cousin sat and stood 
 beside her watching the fishermen, while Mrs. Cart- 
 
 184
 
 MRS. CARTWRIGHT MAKES THE TEA 
 
 wright, who, like most portly people, was given to the 
 excessive absorption of fluids, made herself another 
 cup of tea. 
 
 The two girls were in marked contrast, and this 
 contrast struck Mrs. Cartwright with a painful force. 
 Miss Fairchildwas of the type of refined beauty which 
 is bred in cities. There is a beauty of the plains, too, 
 but Mabel Cartwright had never been touched by 
 its caress, and was thin with a wiry, normal thin- 
 ness which added ten years to her age. At twenty- 
 nine she might have passed for thirty-nine; at 
 thirty-nine she would probably look no older than 
 she did that day. ' T3orn in a Western frontier post, 
 she had all her life ridden as a man rides and lived 
 as a man lives, without regard to weather and in 
 close contact with nature. While this contact had 
 sweetened her spirit, it had likewise toughened her 
 skin. A woman must be fair of feature and quite 
 young for tan and sunburn to be attractive, and 
 Mabel was neither. 
 
 " Will either of you girls drive ? " asked Mrs. Cart- 
 wright, rising. 
 
 " I don't think I care to, for one, thanks," replied 
 Mabel. " I want to try to catch a little of the color- 
 ing of the sunset if it's to be like the one we had 
 
 last night, and I fancy it is." 
 
 185
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Modest creature! " observed Constance, handing 
 her a drawing block from the table and picking up a 
 couple of pencils. " I'll sharpen these for you." 
 
 " Thanks; very much. Is Mr. Taylor coming to 
 dinner to-night, mother ? " 
 
 " Captain Taylor, you mean," corrected Mrs. Cart- 
 wright, who studied the " Army Register " as a de- 
 vout Catholic priest studies his rosary. " He has just 
 been promoted. I don't know whether he is or not. 
 I told your father to ask him." 
 
 " What sort of a looking man is he? " inquired 
 Constance. " I knew a Mr. Taylor once an army 
 officer." 
 
 Mabel paused to consider before replying. " He 
 is tall, very brown, has a sandy mustache, and al- 
 ways hesitates before speaking; very much of a 
 soldier." 
 
 " That's the one." 
 
 " Where did you meet him ? " inquired Mabel. 
 
 " In New York, several years ago." 
 
 " He ought to be flattered to know how well 
 you have remembered him," said Mrs. Cartwright. 
 
 " Oh, no. I saw enough of him to remember him. 
 He has a very decided personality and one which 
 made quite an impression on me." This was no 
 more than the truth, for men who propose to women 
 
 186
 
 MRS. CARTWRIGHT MAKES THE TEA 
 
 usually do make an impression on them, one way or 
 another. " Has he been in town long? " she asked. 
 
 " No, only a few days, I think. He has been serv- 
 ing on one of the southern islands Negros, I think." 
 
 " He will find Manila wonderfully civilized by 
 comparison." 
 
 " Probably he hasn't seen a white woman since the 
 war began," observed Mabel. 
 
 " Perhaps not. What time do we dine ? " 
 
 " At half -past eight," replied Mrs. Cartwright, 
 " and it's getting on toward seven now. I must go 
 and see the cook. There will be no dinner for the 
 hungry, if I don't." 
 
 " There will be none if you do," retorted Con- 
 stance. " I have taken notice of that cook. He'll 
 bear letting alone, until you have somebody ready 
 to step into his place." 
 
 " We'll see ! " observed Mrs. Cartwright, posi- 
 tively, from the door. 
 
 " How I wish I had your talent," said Constance, 
 earnestly, noting the fearless, vigorous way with 
 which Mabel threw in her color and drew her brush 
 across the paper, after catching, with what was ap- 
 parently just a turn of the wrist, the hazy atmos- 
 pheric effect behind the blue outline of Corregidor. 
 Mabel's one talent was painting, and she did it with 
 
 187
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 a rare ability. She possessed the double art of 
 knowing what to paint as well as how to paint it. 
 Because few artists are endowed with this double 
 ability, many of the finest landscapes in nature re- 
 main unrecorded upon canvas. Constance thought 
 of this as she raised her eyes from the painting to 
 the marvelous beauty of the scene before them. 
 
 " I wonder why it is," she said, " that artists do 
 not travel more out of the beaten paths ? " 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " There is so much out here, for instance, that 
 ought to delight an artist. Do you remember that 
 sunset we saw near the Shau Ting pagoda at Shang- 
 hai; with the temple and the graves, and the cold, 
 red light of winter over it all? " 
 
 "Perfectly. Some day I want to go back and 
 paint it." 
 
 " I should think a good artist could find enough 
 subjects like that in China alone, to keep him busy 
 for the rest of his days." 
 
 " Some day, some artist will get tired of land- 
 scapes of French rivers, with poplar trees and peas- 
 ant women in the foreground, and come out and dis- 
 cover China," said Mabel. " It's almost impossible 
 to do anything with this the light changes so." 
 
 " You are succeeding so well," replied Con- 
 188
 
 MRS. CARTWR1GHT MAKES THE TEA 
 
 stance, " that when you take it home no one will 
 believe you ever saw such coloring." 
 
 " Look at that queer little ship ! " 
 
 Mabel raised her eyes from her sketch and glanced 
 out across the harbor. " Which one ? " she asked, 
 for there were many to which the adjective " queer " 
 might have been applied. 
 
 " That little one, on a line with the point of 
 Cavite," replied Constance, indicating the direction 
 with her hand; " she looks like a Spanish or Italian 
 tramp. There's a character and an independence 
 about that ship. She suggests the ' Long Trail.' ' 
 
 " She does, indeed," assented Mabel. " Can you 
 make out her name ? " 
 
 " Yes; it's the I-s-l-a- de, the Isla de; that means 
 Island of. The Island of something; Luzon, most 
 likely." 
 
 " Tablas," said Mabel. " My eyes are better than 
 yours. The ' Island of Tablas,' wherever that may 
 be." 
 
 " It's a little island just north of Panay," said 
 Constance, who had of late been studying the 
 geography of the archipelago with more than ordi- 
 nary interest. " I wonder if she comes from there ? " 
 
 "No; probably not. More likely from Iloilo or 
 Cebu." 
 
 189
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Constance picked up from the table in the center 
 of the room a pair of Colonel Cartwright's binoc- 
 ulars and, adjusting them to her sight, looked 
 curiously at the little ship. 
 
 The great majority of healthy minded people 
 would, if questioned on the subject, scorn to acknowl- 
 edge a belief in telepathy. Constance was no excep- 
 tion to the general rule, and yet, as she watched the 
 dirty little sea wanderer coming in from her voyage, 
 she suddenly became imbued with an idea; an idea 
 which sent the blood rushing to her cheeks and made 
 the hand which rested on the window-ledge tremble. 
 The impression she received was a startling one, and 
 it was followed by a remarkable elation of spirit. 
 " Nonsense ! " she said to herself, as she turned from 
 the window and picked up a book. " It can't be so." 
 
 Fate, with whom rests the guidance of most things, 
 and in whose hand lives are as the pawns upon a 
 chess board, was engaged in the task of bringing 
 Constance Fairchild and Daniel Everton together. 
 The impression which Constance received as she 
 watched the " Isla de Tablas " steam slowly on 
 toward the mouth of the river, was, that the person 
 who was dearest of all the world to her was on 
 board. 
 
 And as a matter of fact, he was. 
 190
 
 Chapter XIII 
 THE ARRIVAL OF THE " ISLA DE TABUS" 
 
 HE " Isla de Tablas " pursued her course 
 across the harbor, passing, as she steamed, 
 the ships of many nations. There were ships 
 of war and ships of commerce ; big ships of the olden 
 days, four months out from Glasgow, around the 
 Horn, their tall masts rising above the short steel 
 ones of the China Sea coasting steamers, like spires 
 of a church above the dwellings of a New England 
 town; little barks which plied between the islands, 
 carrying sugar or hemp; a big cruiser, flying the 
 English flag and holding the record for the fastest 
 trip between Manila and Hongkong; a tiny little 
 Japanese gunboat, fidgeting about, having weighed 
 anchor with no apparent reason but to vomit forth 
 clouds of black smoke and remind the big, drab war- 
 ships of the United States navy that Japan was still 
 progressing, still keeping pace with the Powers. 
 
 Past these craft and many others for the harbor 
 was unusually crowded with shipping that afternoon 
 
 191
 
 DANIEL E7ERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 went the " Isla de Tablas." She arrived at last, 
 with no little puffing and snorting, at the mouth of 
 the Pasig River, grounded upon a sand-bar, swung 
 around with the tide, and rested her three days' 
 journey from Iloilo accomplished and her responsi- 
 bilities at an end. 
 
 In view of the nature of the occurrence, there was 
 remarkably little confusion ; either upon the deck of 
 the " Isla de Tablas " herself, or upon the decks of 
 her neighbors. Her officers occupied easy chairs 
 upon the tiny bridge, well protected by a double awn- 
 ing, and cursed the native quartermaster. Cursed 
 him in moderation, however. They did not con- 
 sign his soul to eternal fires with relish, as an Amer- 
 ican would have done under similar provocation. 
 !Nbr did they direct their observations at the char- 
 acters of his female relations, but were content to 
 remind him repeatedly of the striking resemblance 
 he bore to certain animals rather low down in the 
 order of intelligence, and especially, the pig. 
 
 Officers and crew and passengers alike smoked 
 cigarettes, discussed the state of the tide and the 
 probability of their being able to float the ship that 
 night. The women there were several on board 
 had packed away the dirty clothes in which, for the 
 past three days they had lived and slept and, to the 
 
 192
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE " ISLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 serious injury of said raiment, been ill, and ap- 
 peared upon the deck, radiant in silk and peona 
 finery. The men had exchanged their splitting 
 headaches and " malo estomagos " for clean white 
 shirts and new black derbies. The children and 
 there were many of them, for the passengers on the 
 " Isla de Tablas " had in no wise disobeyed the 
 Scriptural injunction concerning fruitfulness and 
 multiplication crawled along the deck, peering out 
 through the ship's rail, with the wondering perplex- 
 ity of childhood, at the other ships, and the lights 
 which were just beginning to twinkle along the 
 Luneta and across the Bridge of Spain. 
 
 One of the passengers stood a little aloof from the 
 others, biting impatiently at the end of his long 
 cigar and looking over the ship's side at the rapid 
 current of the river. He wore a suit of clean white 
 duck and the soft straw hat of a hacendero. As he 
 turned from his inspection of the muddy river 
 toward the little ladder leading to the bridge, a 
 Spaniard with bright eyes and of a diminutive stat- 
 ure, which was in keeping with everything else on 
 the " Isla de Tablas," backed down it and turned to 
 greet him. 
 
 " Can I get a sampan ? " inquired the passenger. 
 
 The mate, who, like the captain, wore no uniform, 
 13 193
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 replied with a smile, which showed two rows of per- 
 fect, gleaming teeth beneath a black mustache, and 
 a shrug which manifested an indifference to time and 
 events which might have put an Oriental philosopher 
 to shame : 
 
 " After a little, Senor Everton," he said. " You 
 are impatient ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied the other, shortly. " I have busi- 
 ness on shore." 
 
 " Be patient, Senor. I have a young sweetheart 
 on shore and I am patient. Perhaps even now she 
 is on the Luneta, pining for me. Who knows ? " 
 
 Being unable either to confirm or disprove this 
 last supposition, Everton said nothing. The mate 
 yawned and stared vacantly at the tide, which was 
 rushing by like a mill race. Perhaps one fluid sug- 
 gested another, for he turned to the American and 
 gave him a second glimpse of the gleaming white 
 teeth. 
 
 " Beer ? " he suggested, in a tone which combined 
 hospitality with the anticipation of a great pleasure. 
 
 "No; thanks. I must get ashore. Here comes 
 a boat." 
 
 " Very well; since you wish it," replied the other 
 courteously, as a small dugout came scurrying toward 
 the ship's side, propelled by the muscular brown 
 
 194
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE " ISLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 arms of its owner; " but you had better make your 
 bargain first." 
 
 It was soon made, for Everton was in no mood to 
 haggle over prices, and a few minutes later he and 
 his luggage were landed at the office of the Captain 
 of the Port. He had brought his boy, Pastor, and 
 leaving him to arrange the details of its transporta- 
 tion, he strolled on toward the Calle Rosario and the 
 Oriente HoteL 
 
 It was more than eighteen months since he had 
 passed through Manila on his way to the south, and 
 he now found many changes. He did not notice them 
 at first, for the little Chinese and native booths which 
 lined each side of the Calle Rosario looked much the 
 same in peace as they had in war, but when he 
 emerged at length upon the Square and crossed to 
 the arcade of the Oriente Hotel, he noticed the live, 
 bustling American atmosphere of the town, which 
 was in strong contrast to the sleepy Spanish one he 
 remembered. 
 
 Just as he was turning to enter the big portico of 
 the hostelry, he was brought forcibly in contact with 
 a man who was issuing therefrom, in great haste, 
 bearing a telegram. As the stranger stopped he 
 glanced hastily from the paper and apologized. 
 
 " Don't mention it," said Everton, courteously. 
 195
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 The man looked at him a second time, with the 
 quick, searching glance of the professional news- 
 gatherer and remarked with cordiality, that he would 
 be damned. 
 
 " Will you ? " inquired Everton, regarding him 
 with interest. Then, recognizing him, he held out 
 his hand and added, " How are you, Charlie ? " 
 
 Charlie Howard, special correspondent of a New 
 York daily, returned with warmth the pressure of 
 his friend's hand. " Where did you come from ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " From the south," replied Everton, vaguely. 
 
 " Which may mean anything from the Pole to 
 Singapore," said Howard. " I heard that you were 
 in the army. Have you been discharged or com- 
 missioned or what ? " 
 
 " Discharged." 
 
 " What are you doing here ? Going home ? " 
 
 Everton hesitated, and a slight flush crept over 
 his bronzed face ; a flush which the other did not ob- 
 serve, it being one of the things he was not looking 
 for. " I am interested in sugar out here," he said 
 at length. The question recalled to him the changes 
 which had taken place in his life since the days when 
 he and " Charlie " Howard had known each other. 
 He wondered what the other would say when he 
 
 196
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE ISLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 knew that " home " to him now meant the roof of 
 Isidro Paris. 
 
 " What are you doing in Manila ? " 
 
 " I came up on business. Only arrived this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " Where are you going to put up ? " 
 
 " In the hotel here." 
 
 "It's good I met you, then; for you can't get a 
 room for love, money, or the paper you represent. 
 The place is packed; but you can put up with me. 
 I'll just rush over to the cable office and send this 
 message; then I'll show you around. Go right up 
 to my room, number thirty, at the head of the stairs 
 don't get the wrong one; there's a grass widow in 
 twenty-nine and wait until I come. So long." 
 
 Everton expressed his thanks, and Howard hur- 
 ried away across the Square to the cable office. A 
 moment later the former found himself in a big, 
 cheerless apartment which boasted two cane beds and 
 a large window, fronting on the Plaza. Leaning 
 out of this, Everton rested his head upon his hand 
 and looked down at the scene below. 
 
 It was rapidly growing dark and he was just able 
 to make out, indistinctly, the faces of some Amer- 
 ican women who were strolling about and carrying 
 on an animated conversation with the three or four 
 
 197
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 navy officers who had come ashore to attend the 
 dance at the hotel that evening. He watched them 
 curiously for a moment, and then threw himself into 
 the one comfortable chair in the room and turned to 
 the consideration of his own future. 
 
 It was now May and nearly a year had passed 
 since the night when he had been wounded. As he 
 sat there, watching the warm, cheerful glow of his 
 cigar the room had grown suddenly quite dark 
 he wondered whether he wished that the bullet which 
 had come so near to ending his life had done so. 
 On the whole, he reflected, he was glad that it had 
 not. His was a strong temperament and not given 
 to morbidity. It seemed to him that the rest of 
 his life might be made worth the living. It was his 
 duty to make it so in any event. Having made his 
 bed, he was not only resolved to lie in it, but also to 
 make it as soft as possible. 
 
 His marriage had been somewhat of a shock to 
 his higher nature, but it had been one in which his 
 affections had not been in any way involved. He 
 had loved one woman in his life and that woman 
 had refused him; if there was to be no romance for 
 him in the future years, there might at least be some 
 domestic happiness. After all, his marriage had its 
 advantages. If a man must marry for anything 
 
 198
 
 but love, it was better to have a gentle little creature, 
 who was prepared by her education and training to 
 remain more or less in the background, and who 
 would be contented to be treated kindly, than to 
 marry one who would deny him his soul's privacy, 
 and feel that she had a right to share in all his 
 thoughts. 
 
 His love for Constance Fairchild was not dead, and 
 he was well aware of the fact; but two years had 
 passed since he had seen her, and those two years had 
 been crowded with events. He found that even 
 tho it still existed, that love could be beaten down 
 and controlled until, at length, it would become 
 but a memory. In the future the keynote of his 
 life should be work, and such hard work that it would 
 leave him no time for regret. As far as work could 
 fill it, his life promised to be full indeed. 
 
 He had been married several months, and already 
 the improvements which he had planned had been in- 
 augurated. Paris had virtually retired from all 
 active participation in the work of the hacienda. 
 The machinery which had been ordered from the 
 States was now due, and it was with a view to seeing 
 it safely on its way to ISTegros that Everton had come 
 to Manila. 
 
 As the moments passed, he drifted off into a 
 199
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 reverie, from which he was recalled to his present 
 surroundings by the return of Howard. " I'm sorry 
 to have kept you waiting so long," said the newspaper 
 man, as he entered. " I was detained by this con- 
 founded censor business. Had some trouble in 
 getting my stuff through." 
 
 " What was the matter with it ? " inquired Ever- 
 ton. 
 
 " Nothing at all; it was simple and true, but didn't 
 happen to indicate that the war was over yet. It 
 was about a little scrap up in the hills in which 
 several of our men were killed." 
 
 " I don't see why they should want to hold up news 
 like that." 
 
 "Neither do I," replied Howard, rolling up his 
 sleeves and pouring some water into the wash-basin. 
 " I want you to dine with me to-night." 
 
 "Thanks; very much. But are you sure that I 
 won't interfere with any of your plans ? " 
 
 " Quite. I never have any plans which the ar- 
 rival of an old friend can't change. I want to hear 
 from you about the southern islands. I'm getting 
 up a story on them, which the chief wired for the 
 other day. He wanted me to go down and study con- 
 ditions, but didn't say anything about who was to 
 take my place up here. This is the only place where 
 
 200
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE ISLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 anything of any importance is to be learned; so I'm 
 going to bone the article from Foreman's book, and 
 such men as I can find who have been there." 
 
 " Where do we dine to-night ? " 
 
 " There isn't much choice. There's the hotel 
 here, where the service is bad, and the Paris cafe, 
 where it's a little better. The table is equally poor 
 in both places. There is more to be seen at the Paris 
 cafe, so I think we'd better go there." 
 
 " What time do we start ? " 
 
 Howard looked at his watch. " It's nearly eight 
 now," he said. " I fancy that we'd better be going 
 at once; that is, if you are hungry." 
 
 " I'm as hungry as I ever expect to be in this 
 climate." 
 
 " Come along then." 
 
 They left the hotel and walked leisurely down the 
 street. Howard proceeded to ply his guest with 
 questions. To the personal ones, Everton replied 
 briefly, telling of his discharge and simply adding 
 that he had an interest in a hacienda in Oriental 
 !N"egros, and hoped to make something of it. He 
 said nothing about his marriage, altho he mentally 
 called himself a coward for not doing so. The news 
 would reach Manila soon enough, he reflected. The 
 newspaper man was less interested in the particulars 
 
 301
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 concerning his friend's life and plans, than he was 
 in the political status of affairs on the southern 
 islands, and so Everton had little difficulty in turn- 
 ing the conversation into impersonal channels and 
 keeping it therein until they reached the cafe. 
 
 " I suppose this is quite a lively scene, after the 
 country you have been accustomed to," said Howard, 
 when he had given their order. 
 
 " It is indeed," replied Everton, looking about 
 him. 
 
 Their table was on a veranda overlooking the 
 Pasig River and just by the Bridge of Spain, across 
 which little carrametas and quilezes darted con- 
 stantly, their lights swaying and reeling in a half- 
 drunken fashion. There were several other tables 
 on the veranda, and all but one were occupied. The 
 exception appeared to have been reserved for some 
 party, which had not as yet arrived. The large 
 dining-room within was used almost exclusively by 
 Spaniards and mestizos, who smoked continually dur- 
 ing dinner and drank liberally of red wine, from 
 musty, black bottles, bearing no labels. In this room 
 there were also a few enlisted men, on pass from 
 their regiments, looking as spruce as possible in new 
 khaki uniforms which did not fit. On all sides 
 there was the clattering of many diners and the 
 
 202
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE " ISLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 shuffling of many flatfooted and inefficient mucha- 
 chos, who collided with each other as they scurried 
 about the room, and who broke, in the course of the 
 evening, no little china. 
 
 " Who are all these people ? " inquired Everton, 
 when they had passed the fish course. 
 
 Howard raised his eyes from the wine card which 
 he had been studying. " Well," he said, " this man 
 at the next table is the representative of the A. P. 
 The one with him is also a newspaper man. He's for 
 a syndicate, which doesn't pay him, I imagine; for 
 he's always trying to borrow money. You'd better 
 be on the lookout for him." 
 
 Everton nodded. " What you might call a jour- 
 nalistic adventurer. I know the sort. Every pro- 
 fession has them. But why is the A. P. man paying 
 for his dinner ? " 
 
 Howard laughed. " That's an unwarrantable as- 
 sumption," he said. " It isn't always the man who 
 is the most solvent who does the entertaining. I 
 loaned this chap twenty dollars last month, and that 
 night he gave a dinner party to five men." 
 
 " Who is the man at that table over there; the one 
 with the gray side whiskers and the sack coat, with 
 the captain of infantry ? " 
 
 " He's a Congressman from one of the south- 
 208
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 western States. He's out here studying conditions. 
 He studies the canteen question in the cafe of the 
 Oriente Hotel, I imagine, for that's where he spends 
 the greater part of his time. I interviewed him the 
 day after his arrival on his view of the Philippines. 
 He was crammed full of views before he had a 
 chance to register at the hotel. I managed to get 
 material for a long cable." 
 
 " I don't see what you want to cable stuff like that 
 for," said Everton, contemptuously. " I wouldn't 
 give much for his opinion on any subject." 
 
 " Neither would I, personally ; but we're not the 
 great, thinking American people. The first thing a 
 journalist has to learn is, that when he's hunting 
 opinions on anything, the view of a well-known 
 bishop or politician who knows nothing about it is of 
 more interest than that of an unknown man who has 
 made the subject his specialty. It's the man that 
 counts ; not what he has to say." 
 
 " It's remarkable how little common sense there is 
 in the world," observed Everton. 
 
 " True enough. Most men are satisfied with bor- 
 rowed opinions. They would rather put up with 
 those than to take the trouble to work out a thing for 
 themselves." 
 
 " You can't altogether blame the people at home 
 204
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE ISLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 for being somewhat mixed as to the state of affairs 
 out here," said Everton. " Each of the papers I 
 have read gives a different view of the situation." 
 
 " Few papers are independent thinkers in these 
 days," admitted Howard. " Most of them belong 
 to one or the other of the political parties, and their 
 views are prejudiced accordingly." 
 
 " If that's the case, you ought to be ashamed of 
 your calling." 
 
 " By no means," Howard protested. " I don't 
 mean to say that you can hire a man to write an 
 article on the moral or social advantages of polyg- 
 amy, of course; but when a man comes out to a 
 center of public interest like this he has it in his 
 power to favor either side, and do it honestly. As a 
 matter of fact, there are two sides to every question, 
 and the man who starts out with a prejudice in 
 favor of one, usually finds that the prejudice in- 
 creases rather than diminishes as time goes on. The 
 man who comes out here for an anti-expansion organ 
 will find a bad climate, bad bed in the hotel, devilish 
 bad dinner, bad state of feelings on the part of the 
 natives, mismanagement of the war, and so on. In- 
 deed, he may work himself up into thinking that he 
 has ruined his health by tropical exposure, and goes 
 home with a chronic tendency to fever. If, on the 
 
 205
 
 D4NIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 other hand, he comes out for a paper which favors 
 the retention of the islands, he will make the best 
 of things generally, find a country of great wealth, 
 and natives who are, in their way, a very decent lot. 
 He'll go home and write it up as a valuable acqui- 
 sition to the country and a fine field for young men." 
 
 " All that sounds very plausible," admitted Ever- 
 ton, " and might pass muster if delivered from the 
 pulpit, where no one could answer. But it isn't 
 alone on questions of opinion and public policy that 
 you journalists differ. That's to be expected. You 
 differ radically on simple little questions of fact." 
 
 " You blame journalism for what is the fault of 
 human nature. Pick out half a dozen bishops and 
 send them to look at a dog-fight. Do you imagine 
 they'd all have the same account to give, when they 
 got home ? " 
 
 " I should hope," replied Everton, " that they 
 would have the decency to lie about it, and swear 
 that they had been to a prayer meeting." 
 
 Everton raised his glass. " Here's to the capital- 
 ist who starts a newspaper and runs it on strictly non- 
 partisan lines; who combines the impartial treatment 
 of some of the magazines and weeklies with the news- 
 gathering facilities of a daily, and who " 
 
 He broke off suddenly, and set his glass back upon 
 
 206
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE " ISLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 the table, shaking a few drops on to the cloth, where 
 they mingled with the gravy stains left there by the 
 last diners. His face grew slowly white and he 
 shook like a man with the ague. 
 
 " Great Heavens, man ! What is it ? Have some 
 brandy? " cried Howard, in alarm. 
 
 " No ; " said Everton, huskily, moistening his lips, 
 which had suddenly grown dry. " I I'll be all 
 right in a moment. Just the heat don't don't 
 attract attention." 
 
 As he spoke he turned his head slightly so that his 
 face was hidden from the party which had just en- 
 tered the big dining-room, and which advanced to- 
 ward the veranda. 
 
 Captain Taylor came first, with Constance Fair- 
 child, and they were followed by Colonel and Mrs. 
 Cartwright. As they reached the unoccupied table, 
 they hesitated for a moment, and then, as Constance 
 took the seat which faced toward the harbor, and by 
 so doing turned her back on the table at which the 
 two men sat, Everton breathed a long sigh of relief. 
 
 It seemed to him that a remarkable change had 
 of a sudden taken place in his being. The heart, 
 which should have been beating was, apparently, 
 quite still, and the brain, which should have been 
 still, was throbbing with the regular pulsations of the 
 
 207
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 heart. In that one momentary glimpse of her, all 
 the love and pain of love came back to him, and he 
 realized that they are the two things in life which no 
 wise man will say he has conquered. 
 
 Then came the fear of being recognized ; if not by 
 her, by Taylor, who sat facing him. He wanted to 
 be away, where he could collect his thoughts and 
 gain some degree of mastery over his feelings. The 
 longing for the quiet and the dark which comes to 
 men, when sorely wounded, came to him. He 
 thought of the bare room at the Oriente as a haven 
 of refuge. 
 
 "I I'm in danger of fainting, if I stay here," 
 he said, controlling his voice with a great effort. 
 "If you will excuse me, I'll find my way back to 
 the hotel." 
 
 " I'll go with you," said Howard, promptly. He 
 had paid the bill, and, rising, they sought the street 
 below. When they were in the open air once more, 
 Everton said, apologetically: 
 
 " I had a fever last fall ; was wounded in the lung. 
 Ever since then I've been a little weak at times. 
 But I don't like to spoil your dinner, Howard. You 
 needn't come to the hotel. I can find my way quite 
 well alone." 
 
 " You'll do nothing of the sort. I've had all the 
 208
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE << ISLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 tough chicken and frozen beef I require for one 
 night. How do you feel now ? " 
 
 " Better; thanks. It was a touch of heat." 
 " When a man has been hit," observed Howard, 
 " he must be careful not to overestimate his strength. 
 Those things last a long while sometimes, even for 
 life, the doctors say. You had better be careful." 
 Everton smiled grimly in the darkness, but as they 
 walked down the silent, deserted Escolta toward the 
 hotel, he agreed with him, resolving not to over- 
 estimate his strength again. 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright's native cook, with whom she had 
 had the altercation that afternoon, had been the un- 
 conscious agent of destiny in bringing about the 
 glimpse which Everton had of Constance at the Paris 
 cafe. As his mistress had not yet learned the futil- 
 ity of attempting to run an eastern household on the 
 same economical and cleanly lines as one at home, 
 the domestic situation had reached a climax, and the 
 cook had solved the difficulty to his own satisfaction, 
 by gathering together his own belongings, with a 
 half-dozen of Colonel Cartwright's best shirts, and 
 leaving. His departure was not discovered until 
 late, and when Taylor arrived, the party adjourned 
 14 209
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 to the cafe, leaving Mabel at home with a headache ; 
 which she augmented by dining off a box of choc- 
 olates which some one had sent her from the States, 
 and a few sweet biscuits. 
 
 The conversation had turned upon bravery in war, 
 and Colonel Cartwright had availed himself of the 
 opportunity afforded him of relating several stirring 
 anecdotes of the Civil War and Indian campaign- 
 ing. 
 
 " War is a terrible thing," mused Constance, 
 V thoughtfully. " But it is good to know that men can 
 do such things. It strengthens one's faith in human 
 nature." 
 
 " It's a great developer," said Taylor. " It brings 
 out the best in a man's character." 
 
 " Or the worst," added the Colonel. " The men 
 who do the fine things in war are not usually the ones 
 who need the development. The one who needs it 
 the most stays at home and doesn't get it." 
 
 " War," continued Taylor, " is a great Free- 
 \ masonry. It binds men together. Witness how 
 this war has united the American people." 
 
 " You pay them a poor compliment," replied Mrs. 
 Cartwright, " in saying that the only time they are 
 in close accord, is when they are fighting some 
 
 foreign nation." 
 
 310
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE ISLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 " Nations are like women," said the Colonel, mis- 
 chievously. " Have you not noticed that two of your 
 sex are never in such close sympathy as when they 
 are assembled together for the purpose of abusing 
 a third?" 
 
 " That's all nonsense, Laurence. Army officers 
 are worse gossips than their wives." 
 
 " That's because the wives give them more to 
 gossip about." 
 
 Constance hastened to interpose a remark. She 
 had learned from experience that repartee between 
 her relatives left an aftermath of soreness. " What 
 is the bravest thing you ever saw done on the field, 
 Captain Taylor ? " she asked. 
 
 " Spare his blushes," advised the Colonel. " Per- 
 haps he did it himself." 
 
 Taylor laughed. " No ; I only wish I had. It was 
 at Santiago. I was hit in the leg and couldn't move. 
 When our lines advanced, I was left in a very ex- 
 posed position, under a cross-fire. One of the men 
 in my company missed me and came back. I never 
 saw a man stand under such a fire and probably 
 never shall again. He was hit in two places before 
 he reached me, and once afterwards. Then he 
 picked me up and carried me to cover in a ditch. 
 
 He got the medal of honor for it." 
 
 211
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " What became of him ? " inquired Constance. 
 " Is he still in the army ? " 
 
 " No. He was discharged last fall and is out here 
 now. He was wounded again about a year ago, in a 
 little skirmish with a band of ladrones. It seems 
 strange that a man could go through a day like that 
 at Santiago, and have only flesh wounds, and the one 
 man hit, and very badly hit, in a little brush with a 
 dozen or so of these fellows." 
 
 " What was his name ? " asked Mrs. Cartwright. 
 
 " Everton. Daniel Everton. He remained on 
 the hacienda where he was wounded. The native 
 who owned it afterwards took a great fancy to him 
 and made him his overseer." 
 
 " I thought so," said Mrs. Cartwright. " Isn't 
 that the son of your guardian, Constance ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Miss Eairchild, simply. 
 
 " It seems a strange position for a gentleman 
 overseer on the plantation of a Filipino," observed 
 Mrs. Cartwright. 
 
 " I understood from what he said, that his family 
 had met with financial reverses, and that it had 
 become necessary for him to make his way in the 
 world." 
 
 " Where is he now ? " Constance inquired. 
 
 " I don't know. On Negros, I presume. He was 
 212
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE ISLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 when I left there, for Panay, four months ago." 
 Taylor had gone to Antigue Province soon after Ever- 
 ton's discharge, and on his promotion had come direct 
 to Manila. 
 
 " I liked his father immensely, what I saw of 
 him, that day we called," observed Mrs. Cart- 
 wright. 
 
 " I am surprised," said Constance, " to hear what 
 you say about his having lost his money. I had 
 understood that he was a man of considerable wealth. 
 It seems strange that I should have heard of it, in 
 such an indirect way, and out here at the ends of the 
 earth, so to speak." 
 
 There was a pause in the conversation, during 
 which Colonel Cartwright looked at his watch. The 
 other diners had all left the cafe and the muchachos 
 were rolling up the cloths on the neighboring tables 
 and showing in various ways that they thought it 
 time the party went home. 
 
 " I think we had better be going," said Mrs. Cart- 
 wright, rising. 
 
 When they reached the Escolta they found their 
 carriages, two small victorias, awaiting them. Mrs. 
 Cartwright and the Colonel entered one, despite the 
 delicate manipulation of Constance, who, for certain 
 very sound reasons, desired to avoid being alone with 
 
 218
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Taylor during the long moonlight drive to Malate. 
 In this she was defeated by the denseness, intentional 
 or otherwise, of the older woman, and there was 
 nothing to do but accept the situation, notwithstand- 
 ing the consequences which she felt it entailed. 
 
 " It has been a great happiness to meet you again, 
 Miss Fairchild," said her companion, as their rickety 
 little trap dashed down the incline at the farther end 
 of the Bridge of Spain and turned into the big cres- 
 cent driveway which leads to the Luneta. 
 
 " It is very nice of you to say so," replied Con- 
 stance. " I hope we shall see a great deal of you 
 while you are in Manila. You must come and see 
 us often." 
 
 " You are very kind. I shall certainly do so. Shall 
 you be here long? " he added, after a pause which 
 had been of sufficient duration to be embarrassing. 
 
 " A few months, I think." 
 
 " Will you return to the States then ? " 
 
 " I don't know. It all depends on Dick. When 
 his contract expires we are going home by India and 
 Suez." 
 
 " You know, he and I were stationed together on 
 Negros in the same town, for several months. 
 Strange, wasn't it; meeting out here like that? " 
 
 "Yes; very. You will probably meet him again 
 314
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE ISLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 before long. He is coming back to the Second 
 Keserve Hospital." 
 
 " I wish he would take the regular army examina- 
 tion," pursued Taylor. " He combines the soldier 
 and the physician as few men do." 
 
 " I am afraid Dick will never settle down to any- 
 thing," she answered, with a slight sigh. 
 
 " Will he practice, when he leaves the army ? " 
 asked Taylor, who was thinking of something else 
 and searching for words with which to bring that 
 something else forward. 
 
 " I hardly think so. I am afraid Dick is no 
 worker. My principal hope is that he will take up 
 some specialty and study it in a scientific way." 
 
 " I should prefer general practice, if I was a 
 doctor," said Taylor, who seemed just as far from the 
 topic he wished to introduce as he had been at the 
 beginning of the conversation. 
 
 There was another long silence, during which they 
 turned into the Luneta and drove southward toward 
 Ermita. 
 
 " I never came to this Luneta without thinking 
 of the poor fellows who were shot here by the 
 Spaniards," said Constance, " particularly Risal. It 
 seems strange that a man like that could have been 
 deliberately murdered and the civilized world care so 
 
 215
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 little about it. It is only since we have taken these 
 islands that the people in the United States have 
 heard of him." 
 
 " Men like him are the exceptions which show us 
 that all men are created full and equal/' said Taylor. 
 " If it were not for such exceptional instances, it 
 would be difficult to regard the Malay as the equal of 
 the white man. I suppose that since we have an 
 instance in a man like Risal, we can assume that 
 the whole race is capable of enlightenment." 
 
 " They will have their opportunity under us. It 
 seems strange to think of their having a government 
 like ours now, when only two years ago they were 
 under the heel of a tyranny which could shoot down 
 a man like Eisal as tho he were an animal." 
 
 Constance thought that, as long as they were dis- 
 cussing the future possibilities of the Tagal race, she 
 was keeping the conversation within safe bounds, but 
 unconsciously she gave Taylor the opening for which 
 he had been waiting. It was not a very wide opening, 
 certainly, but it was one which could be made use of, 
 at the cost of being a little precipitate. 
 
 " Time does make changes in governments," he 
 said, " but there are some things more unchangeable 
 than governments." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 216
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE << 1SLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 " Yes," he continued in a tone which admitted of 
 no misinterpretation " men. Time has not changed 
 me." 
 
 Constance laughed nervously. " I should be 
 ashamed to confess it, then," she said. " Don't you 
 think we all ought to change, year by year? Don't 
 you believe in evolution ? " 
 
 Her effort to avoid what was coming was unavail- 
 ing. Like most men, Taylor was unwilling to take a 
 hint at such a time. 
 
 " Change does not mean evolution, necessarily. 
 All the evolution there has been in my life has come 
 through my love for you." 
 
 Constance was silent. She would have liked to 
 have spared him the pain of the second rejection, but 
 he had refused to avail himself of the opportunity. 
 A man of readier wit, who did not care as deeply as 
 he, might have done so. 
 
 " No," he continued, " I have never changed in 
 that. My love for you has grown steadily and some- 
 times I have felt as though I could not have lived 
 without it." 
 
 " I am so sorry, so sorry," she said, and her voice 
 showed the words were true. 
 
 " Sorry that I still love you? " 
 
 " Yes, since it is impossible for me to return it." 
 217
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 He drew in his breath and held it for an instant. 
 This was the only indication he gave of what her 
 words meant to him, who had lived for three years 
 in the hope that she might change. 
 
 " I wish you could understand that," she con- 
 tinued. " Isn't it unsoldierly to keep on fighting 
 where you know there is no chance ? " 
 
 " No," he replied, a set look coming into his 
 face. " Not as I understand soldiering. I shall 
 never give up until I know that you care for some 
 one else." 
 
 As it was only moonlight, and as her face was in 
 the shadow of a big straw hat, he did not notice the 
 quick flush which crept up at his words. 
 
 " Is there any one else ? " asked Taylor, unsteadily, 
 noticing that she did not speak. It is singular how 
 calmly a man puts this question to a woman; how 
 coolly he demands that she open her heart, even 
 when she has told him that he has no place therein. 
 
 Constance did not reply. It was not an easy thing 
 to confess, that secret which she had only recently 
 acknowledged to herself. After a moment's consid- 
 eration Taylor realized that he had placed her in an 
 unfair position. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said. " I had no right to 
 put such a question. All I ask is that when you do 
 
 218
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE '< ISLA DE TABLAS" 
 
 care for any one else you will tell me of it. That 
 is all." 
 
 " I am sorry/' she said gently, after they had 
 been silent a little while ; " but it is only right that 
 you should know. There is some one else." 
 
 He said nothing for some time, and then, just 
 as they reached their destination, he spoke again. 
 " Thank you," he said quietly, and with those words 
 he referred, for the last time, to the one romance of 
 his life. 
 
 There was nothing in his manner, as he bade them 
 a conventional good-night at the door, refusing 
 Colonel Cartwright's invitation to come in and smoke 
 a cigar, to indicate that anything out of the ordinary 
 had occurred during the drive home; but when he 
 left them, instead of going to the hop at the Oriente 
 Hotel, as he had intended doing, he lit a cigar and 
 walked slowly back to the Luneta. When he 
 reached it he remembered how Constance had said 
 that she never crossed it without thinking of Risal, 
 and, as he sat wearily upon the bench near the 
 deserted band-stand, listening to the sound of the 
 waves, he came near to envying that patriot. 
 
 It takes some time to bury the great hope of a life- 
 time, and by the time Captain Taylor had buried his, 
 the first notes of reveille were sounding from the 
 
 219
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 portals of the Quartel de Espagna and echoing from 
 the gray, mossy walls of old Manila. There was a 
 breeze coming in from the west to meet the dawn, 
 and the air was fresh and cool. 
 
 The clear notes of the call struck a responsive 
 chord in the nature of this man who was all soldier, 
 and he arose from the bench on which he had passed 
 the night, and turned his steps toward the town. 
 
 220
 
 Chapter XIV 
 FORT MALATE 
 
 APTAIN TAYLOK was not the only one 
 to whom thoughts of Constance brought a 
 sleepless night. Back in the close, stuffy 
 room at the Oriente Hotel, Everton, who had re- 
 tired immediately upon his return from dinner, 
 tossed about on his cane bed until the dawn. There 
 was a fever in his veins a fever of the soul which 
 hurt him far more than that of the body from which 
 he had suffered the year before. 
 
 Until that evening, his love for Constance, while it 
 had been a great element in his life, had never passed 
 absolutely beyond the controlling power of his 
 reason. When he had asked her to marry him three 
 years before, he had loved her strongly, and had be- 
 lieved that she was the only woman with whom he 
 could be happy. But when, after his rejection, he 
 had been plunged into an entirely different atmos- 
 phere; when his character had been tried in the 
 
 321
 
 D4NIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 severest of all schools, he had come to realize that he 
 might live his life without her. There is no love 
 which seems so great to the lover as the one which 
 appears hopeless, and now, the more he reflected 
 upon the insurmountable barrier between them, the 
 worse his fever grew. 
 
 During the early hours he was alone, for the news- 
 paper man had gone into the big dining-room of the 
 hotel to take part in the dance. Everton had sought 
 his bed, that being the easiest way of getting rid 
 of Howard, who would otherwise have remained for 
 a smoke and a talk. 
 
 As he lay there in the oppressive atmosphere of 
 the hot, stagnant night, listening to the music and 
 the laughter in the corridors outside, he was unable 
 to banish her presence from his mind. He had a 
 painfully life-like and vivid mental picture of her in 
 her white gown. In that momentary glimpse, not a 
 single detail of the many subtle ones which go to 
 make up the personality of a refined and dignified 
 woman had escaped him. She was the first attract- 
 ive woman he had seen since his enlistment, and she 
 was the one he loved. It was what Howard would 
 have termed a " knock-down combination," and the 
 vision had burned itself into his memory with a 
 strength that made him heart-sick.
 
 FORT MALATE 
 
 For the first hour or two after he retired, his mind 
 was a chaos, through which that one vision passed 
 again and again. He could not think collectedly; he 
 could only know that he loved, and loved with a 
 strength which it seemed must drive him mad. And 
 then, with the thought of the woman whom he loved 
 came the thought of the other to whom he had bound 
 himself for life; as if his realization of Constance's 
 charm and beauty had not been sufficiently keen and 
 painful, without this contrast being obtruded upon 
 him. He was to be pardoned if, in the first un- 
 reasoning hours of that night, when he abandoned 
 himself to his love for the one, he was unjust to the 
 other. The markedly patrician air of Constance 
 recalled the fact that his wife was of mixed blood. 
 He remembered how an Englishman in Iloilo had 
 spoken contemptuously of the " touch of the tar 
 brush " in referring to one of the mestiza families 
 there. He tried to picture to himself what Con- 
 stance would think when she learned of his marriage 
 to a half-caste, and he could feel the stinging, crush- 
 ing force of the contempt with which she would 
 regard him when the time came/) Then he thought 
 of his father, and with that thought came the con- 
 solation which comes to all men in their hour of 
 
 doubt and trial, if they are able to reflect that their 
 
 223
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 suffering is caused by no fault of their own. It is 
 better to go to the stake as the victim of oppression, 
 than languish a single year in jail as the victim of 
 your own depravity. When he recalled how his 
 present plight had been brought about, something 
 of the courage of self-sacrifice came to him, and he 
 grew more calm. 
 
 Howard came in about two o'clock, and Everton 
 feigned sleep. The newspaper man was an un- 
 necessarily long time about getting to bed. He 
 smoked a cigar, hummed the fragment of a tune, and 
 finally, when it seemed to Everton that he must be 
 ready to put out the light, he took a drink of whisky 
 and sat down to look over a bundle of papers contain- 
 ing his own stories. 
 
 He got to bed at length, a half hour later, and once 
 more in the darkened room, Everton directed his 
 aching eyes upon the ceiling and his aching brain 
 upon the problem which confronted him. That 
 problem was how best to combat this new element, 
 which had suddenly been forced into his life. As he 
 gradually regained the use of his reasoning faculties 
 he forced himself to look calmly on the situation, 
 and to outline his plan of action. And, as is often the 
 case when the brain takes hold of the problem which 
 
 has been overriding the heart, he found that his 
 
 224
 
 FORT MALATE 
 
 reason was the master of the situation, just as his 
 emotions had Been its victim. 
 
 After all, affairs were not much worse than they 
 had been that morning. As far as Constance was 
 concerned, he was simply unlucky enough to love one 
 woman and be married to another. There was 
 nothing so very novel in that. Other men had done 
 the same, and would again until the end of time. 
 He was in no worse a position, probably, than any 
 other man who loved without hope. If his love was 
 a painful element in his life, he would fight it, that 
 was all ; fight it as he would any other painful ele- 
 ment. And what was the best way in which to fight 
 it? 
 
 Somewhere, within the reason of each man, there 
 is a voice which is heard at every crossing of the 
 roads. It tells him the right thing to do, and if he 
 followed its counsels, he would be less apt to make 
 a havoc of his life. The voice is not always per- 
 sistent; frequently it speaks but once, and the cause 
 it advocates is seldom the easiest or pleasantest of 
 those from which a choice is to be made. It is the 
 voice of the Higher Judgment, and it tells us the 
 right course to steer in an emergency. 
 
 As the coolness of the dawn came on, and the first 
 
 tinge of gray crept into the room in which Daniel 
 15 226
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Everton had fought through one of the hardest fights 
 of his life, this voice spoke to him and said : " Go 
 take the next ship south, preferably; but anywhere 
 rather than remain here. Run away. You would 
 not expose your men to the fire of an enemy unless 
 you had some object to attain use the same sound 
 judgment now. Don't see her again. Go." 
 
 And as, after the long, hot night, his mind tired 
 with its struggle, he heard that voice, he welcomed 
 it and resolved to heed it. The resolution brought 
 him some measure of peace, and he fell asleep at last, 
 to sleep until late into the day. 
 
 There is a highway which leads into Manila from 
 Paranaque and the other towns to the south. It 
 runs near the bay and through a country more than 
 ordinarily pleasing to the eye of one who loves the 
 tropics. 
 
 At about six o'clock on the evening following their 
 dinner at the Paris cafe, Mrs. Cartwright and Con- 
 stance were driving slowly along this highway to- 
 ward Malate, having come in from Pasay. They 
 had gone there at the suggestion of the latter, who, 
 tired of the Luneta, had felt a wish to be out in the 
 country, where she might drive without talking and
 
 FORT MALATE 
 
 watch the sunset to the accompaniment of her own 
 thoughts. 
 
 They had been of Everton, and during the some- 
 what desultory conversation she had carried on with 
 her cousin, she had been alternating between pride 
 and happiness at his having so distinguished himself 
 on the field at Santiago, and sympathy with him in 
 his present financial straits. She wondered, inci- 
 dentally, whether she should find him much changed, 
 when they met. Of the fact that they would meet, 
 she had no doubt. There had been no question in 
 her mind as to the quality of his love for her; she 
 felt instinctively that there was no change in that. 
 Then she thought of all he had suffered since the day 
 when they had last been together, and the tears came 
 to her eyes for an instant, tho, on the whole, her 
 reveries were happy ones. She was quite content 
 to let matters rest as they were for the present. Safe 
 in her belief in his love, it only remained for her to 
 tell him, some day, that she returned it. In the 
 meantime, the happiness of anticipation was quite 
 keen enough. 
 
 " How do you like Captain Taylor ? " asked Mrs. 
 Cartwright, suddenly, breaking the silence which had 
 lasted since their horses' heads were turned toward 
 
 home. 
 
 227
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Very much, indeed. Why ? " 
 
 " I just asked the question that was all. He 
 seems rather quiet." 
 
 " Yes. I fancy he is not a great talker." 
 
 " They say very smart men are no't, as a rule," ob- 
 served Mrs. Cartwright, regarding a group of native 
 children through a lorgnette. " He has a fine repu- 
 tation as an officer. I don't take much stock in the 
 theory, myself." 
 
 " In what theory ? " asked Constance. 
 
 " In the theory that because a man doesn't say 
 much he necessarily knows more than the man who 
 does. I believe that being able to talk well is a gift, 
 like singing well or painting well, or anything else. 
 Some men have it and some men have not. Its ab- 
 sence doesn't indicate that a man has an especially 
 fine intellect." 
 
 " It's rather a fatal gift when a man hasn't the 
 brains to back it up with," observed Constance. 
 
 " I am not so sure of that," replied the older 
 woman. " Especially when one has to entertain. 
 An idiot who can talk well is a Godsend at a dinner 
 table, compared to a professor who doesn't know 
 how to open his head. I think it's disgraceful the 
 way these children are allowed to go about with no 
 clothes on," she added, as their cochero reined up to 
 
 328
 
 FORT MALATE 
 
 avoid running over a naked little youngster who was 
 playing in the road. 
 
 " I think they add to the picturesqueness of the 
 scene," said Constance, laughing. " It is really 
 beautiful out here in the country. I confess I don't 
 care much for the town of Manila." 
 
 " It's like any other place in that regard," said 
 Mrs. Cartwright. " The Philippines are well 
 enough, left to the Filipinos, but when the Span- 
 iards came and mixed in their style of architecture, 
 they ruined the landscape. A thatched house of 
 nipa looks in keeping with a banana grove, a house 
 with a tin roof doesn't." 
 
 " It's a beautiful country," mused Constance. " I 
 wonder if many Americans will make their homes 
 out here." She was thinking of Everton again, and 
 wondering what plans he had made for his future. 
 
 " They are welcome to. I shan't, for one." 
 
 " I suppose a man could be very happy in this 
 ' Pearl of the Orient Sea ' if he had his family with 
 him." 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright smiled somewhat grimly. "It 
 depends on the terms he might happen to be on 
 with the aforesaid family," she replied. 
 
 " Oh, I mean a normal case, of course. One that 
 was happy." 
 
 229
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " A man would have to be an abnormal case of 
 happiness to want to bury himself in these wilds, 
 after the honeymoon." 
 
 " I am afraid you are not very romantic." 
 
 " I am afraid not, my dear," replied her cousin, 
 closing her parasol with a jerk. " I am fond of 
 nature, of course, and all that, but there's nothing 
 that palls on one like scenery, when you have nothing 
 else." 
 
 " Oh ; I don't agree with you." 
 
 " Very likely not; but you haven't had my experi- 
 ence. You have lived within the bounds of civiliza- 
 tion. Towns are good enough for me. I am get- 
 ting to that time of life when I want some other per- 
 son's thoughts and activity in my life. I had a good 
 many years in the West with my own. The only 
 place where one really lives is a great city." 
 
 " It's a question of temperament, like everything 
 else, I suppose," said Constance. 
 
 " Undoubtedly. Colonel Cartwright could be 
 happy anywhere. I never saw such a man." 
 
 " Isn't it a good thing to be born with a tempera- 
 ment like that?" 
 
 " I don't imagine that he was born with it. 
 It's the soldier that faculty and it has to be 
 acquired. After a few years, endurance changes 
 
 280
 
 FORT MALATE 
 
 into contentment. It's like getting into any other 
 rut." 
 
 Constance could not help thinking that the soldiery 
 point of view was one to be admired. " I think that 
 a man who gets into a happy rut in life is to be 
 envied," she said. 
 
 " In my opinion, ' a happy rut ' does not exist. 
 Variety is the spice of life." 
 
 " There is such a thing as the monotony of 
 variety," said Constance, thinking of the very ex- 
 tended wanderings she had indulged in, and the 
 great variety which had been in her life, and think- 
 ing, too, that she could settle very happily into the 
 right rut. 
 
 " There is no such thing as the variety of monot- 
 ony, however," retorted Mrs. Cartwright. " Activ- 
 ity of the mind that is what you want, and you 
 can't have it on a prairie; unless you are a scientist 
 and collect bugs, like that man at the Oriente 
 Hotel." 
 
 Constance did not reply, and both women looked 
 out at sea, admiring the gorgeous coloring, and each 
 occupied with her own thoughts. Constance's took 
 the form of a speculation on the life of her cousin. 
 She marveled that Colonel Cartwright and his wife 
 were not in greater sympathy. Both were, she con- 
 
 231
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 sidered, very admirable characters in their way, and 
 she wondered why it was that two such admirable 
 characters could go through life without coming to 
 a better understanding. She wondered, too, with a 
 sharp little pang, whether it was true, that after a 
 few years devotion settled into mutual respect and 
 toleration. Everything she had read or heard or 
 observed pointed in that direction; but if it was true, 
 it was one of those truths which her nature forbade 
 her to accept or admit. 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright was in many respects a remark- 
 able woman. She was endowed with an intellect 
 which, had she been a man, would have enabled her 
 to rule men. But the methods by which women 
 rule men are different from those by which men rule 
 each other. Not being possessed with a knowledge 
 of a woman's methods, Mrs. Cartwright had begun 
 her married life by attempting to rule her husband 
 by a man's, and she had only succeeded in worrying 
 him. Very keen perception is a good thing, but it 
 does not justify harshness. The fault of the matter 
 was partly nature's, which should have made this 
 woman a man, and partly her husband's, who, years 
 ago, should have pointed out to her nature's mis- 
 take and persuaded her to abide by it. The burden 
 of the fault was borne by them both, in that they
 
 FORT MALATE 
 
 went through life within hailing distance of the 
 greatest of all earthly happiness, and did not 
 know it. 
 
 Whatever Mrs. Cartwright's reveries may have 
 been, they kept her silent a long time, and the little 
 carriage rattled on its way toward Malate. 
 
 It was followed at no great distance by another, 
 in which sat a man, with his hat pulled well down 
 over his eyes, which were fixed upon the inland 
 mountains. 
 
 He had spent the afternoon in a drive south of 
 Manila, after lunching with Howard at the Tiffin 
 Club. He had met several acquaintances there 
 men whom he had known before his enlistment, and 
 who had drifted to the Philippines in civil and mili- 
 tary capacities. The renewing of old associations 
 was not an agreeable occupation, under the circum- 
 stances, and it was to avoid meeting people whom 
 he knew, especially one whom he knew, that he had 
 taken this long drive. This design was destined to 
 be frustrated by an insignificant incident, and a meet- 
 ing, which his calm judgment of the early morning 
 hours had counseled him above all things to avoid, 
 was to be brought about by a balky horse. 
 
 When they had arrived at the old fortress of 
 Malate, the carriage containing the two women 
 
 283
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 stopped for a moment, that they might have a better 
 opportunity of admiring the grim old structure, in 
 front of which a sentry paced to and fro. When 
 they had quite satisfied their curiosity, Constance 
 told the cochero to drive on. lie brought down his 
 whip with a resounding noise upon the back of each 
 of the horses alternately. One started and lunged 
 forward, but the other planted his feet with a grim 
 determination and declined to be persuaded. After 
 five minutes of alternative coaxing and chastisement, 
 the cochero desisted, and sat helplessly upon the box 
 awaiting further developments. 
 
 " Well, this is awkward/' said Constance. " I 
 wonder what we had better do? " 
 
 " Necessita passar," observed the cochero, looking 
 ruefully at the obstinate pony. 
 
 " Out of the question," exclaimed Mrs. Cart- 
 wright, indignantly. " We can't walk two miles." 
 
 The cochero, judging of her meaning from her 
 manner, shrugged his shoulders and began once more 
 to beat the horse. 
 
 " Stop that ! " exclaimed Constance, indignantly. 
 " It isn't doing any good." 
 
 At this juncture the sentry came up and, laying 
 aside his rifle, attempted to lead the animal by its 
 bridle. When he found that his efforts were un- 
 
 234
 
 FORT MALATE 
 
 availing, he touched his hat respectfully and said, 
 addressing Mrs. Cartwright, whom he recognized as 
 the wife of an officer, " I guess you'll have to send 
 the nigger in town for another rig, ma'am. It looks 
 like this here horse meant business." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " said Mrs. Cartwright, fretfully. 
 " That will take an hour at least ! How very un- 
 fortunate ! " 
 
 " There's nothing else to be done that I can think 
 of," said Constance, looking up the long stretch of 
 road toward Malate, " unless we walk. I think I'd 
 feel safer to stay here with this soldier, than do that. 
 It's fortunate it didn't happen a mile back." 
 
 " I'm glad you find something fortunate about it," 
 said Mrs. Cartwright, looking at her watch. " It's 
 nearly seven o'clock now, and we dine at half past." 
 
 " My relief comes at seven, ma'am," said the sen- 
 try. " If you was afraid to go back alone, you kin 
 go with them." 
 
 " Thank you, very much," replied Constance, 
 bestowing upon him a smile, the like of which he 
 had not beheld for many months ; " but I am afraid it 
 is too far to walk. She turned idly and, looking down 
 the road toward the south, beheld a carriage rapidly 
 approaching. " Perhaps this is empty," she added, 
 
 hopefully, pointing it out to Mrs. Cartwright, whose 
 
 235
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 face changed instantly, and who breathed a sigh of 
 relief. 
 
 " There's a man in it," said the sentry. 
 
 " If it's a white man, he'll give us a lift," asserted 
 Mrs. Cartwright. 
 
 " An' if it's a nigger, ma'am, I'll make him," added 
 the soldier, affectionately stroking the barrel of his 
 rifle with the hard palm of his hand, and rejoicing 
 mentally that he was in a position to render an 
 official service to the prettiest girl he had seen since 
 he left " God's country." 
 
 It was now dusk, and as Everton drew up he failed 
 to recognize either of the women, who stood back in 
 the shadow of the old fortress. He did see, however, 
 that there were two women American women 
 standing by their empty carriage, and that they 
 appeared to be in some sort of difficulty. So he 
 alighted and, advancing to them, raised his hat. 
 
 " Have you met with an accident ? Can I be of 
 any service ? " 
 
 He addressed the older woman and looked at her 
 as he did so. 
 
 Constance had not recognized him, owing to his 
 beard; but when he spoke, her breath came a little 
 quicker for an instant, during which Mrs. Cartwright 
 thanked him and explained the situation.
 
 FORT MALATE 
 
 " Let me offer you my trap, such as it is," he said, 
 turning so that he included Constance in his gaze.. 
 She advanced and held out her hand. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Everton ? " 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright and the soldier on post saw him 
 take the outstretched hand and bend over it, but they 
 did not hear his reply, because he dared not trust his 
 voice to make one. As he held her hand in his, a 
 wave of feeling swept over him and drowned his 
 utterance. The sentry shouldered his rifle and, 
 touching his hat once more, paced slowly away, 
 knowing that his services were no longer required. 
 And Mrs. Cartwright, taking due note of the manner 
 in which the two had forgotten her presence, and also 
 of the length of time her cousin's hand remained in 
 that of the newcomer, raised her lorgnette and re- 
 garded him curiously. 
 
 237
 
 Chapter XV 
 AN UNSEEN BARRIER 
 
 T was after dinner, it was moonlight, and there 
 was a cool, fresh breeze coming in from the 
 China Sea. The waters of the bay danced and 
 sparkled, and threw themselves playfully upon the 
 hard sands at their feet. The night was soft and 
 balmy, as only moonlight nights in the tropics can be, 
 and there was a big bush of ilang-ilang growing 
 near by, its heavy southern fragrance mingling with 
 the faint, salt smell of the sea.^j 
 
 They were alone. Despite the protest of his 
 better judgment, he had accepted Mrs. Cartwright's 
 invitation and remained to dinner. In doing this he 
 gave that better judgment no just grounds for 
 offense, for, while it had told him not to accept, it 
 had not suggested any reasonable excuse for declin- 
 ing. Even that time-honored standby of a " previ- 
 ous engagement " had not occurred to him until it 
 was too late, and it is one of those excuses which have 
 to be brought forward at once or not at all. 
 
 238
 
 AN UNSEEN BARRIER 
 
 He had, therefore, accepted the situation and re- 
 mained; and, being there, was deriving as much 
 happiness as possible from her presence, for which 
 he had longed so often during the last three years. 
 He had never realized before how long three years 
 could be. 
 
 He had been rather silent during dinner. Not 
 because of embarrassment, but because his thoughts 
 were rushing and crowding through his brain in such 
 a manner as to leave him all but tongue-tied; making 
 impossible any active participation in the small talk 
 of the table. Mrs. Cartwright had noticed his ab- 
 straction and had concluded that he was either very 
 much in love with Constance, or else very stupid. 
 It occurred to her once that he might be simply shy, 
 after his life in the ranks, but a second glance at the 
 grave, composed countenance on her right, showed 
 her clearly that this was not the case. Whatever 
 the cause of his abstraction might have been, it cer- 
 tainly was not due to any embarrassment at finding 
 himself at an officer's table. Mrs. Cartwright was 
 not the only one who noticed Everton's manner. 
 Constance noticed it too, and from it drew an infer- 
 ence which made her strangely happy. 
 
 After dinner, they had quite naturally been at- 
 tracted to the garden, with its moonlight, its foliage,
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 and its view of the bay. The Cartwrights and a 
 young cavalry officer, who dropped in after dinner, 
 had made up a rubber of whist, very much to Mrs. 
 Cartwright's disappointment. She would decidedly 
 have preferred cribbage with the Colonel for her- 
 self, and, for Mabel, a tete-a-tete by moonlight with 
 the cavalry officer. Unfortunately, however, the 
 young man had recently taken up whist, and vastly 
 preferred it to a combination of moonlight and 
 Mabel. 
 
 " You may smoke, if you like," said Constance, 
 after they had established themselves by the sea wall, 
 where they could have a view of the bay and could 
 even see the flickering lights of Binondo away off 
 to the right. 
 
 " Are you sure you won't mind ? " he asked, feel- 
 ing that he would be glad to have the assistance of a 
 cigar, to enable him to get through the next hour 
 creditably. 
 
 " Quite. I like it." 
 
 He lit his long Manila, and leaning back in his bam- 
 boo chair smoked silently, intent upon the solution 
 of the problem concerning his future actions. It did 
 not take many puffs for him to outline his position 
 clearly. The gist of the matter was, that this girl 
 had rejected him three years before because she did 
 
 240
 
 AN UNSEEN BARRIER 
 
 not care for him. They met now as friends, and as 
 long as he was careful not to betray, by word, or 
 look, or intonation, the fact that he still cared for her, 
 his being with her could do no harm. This ought not 
 to be so difficult, surely. He had self-control enough 
 to keep the truth from his lips and shut it up securely 
 back in his heart, where it belonged. As far as his 
 own feelings were concerned, he decided that per- 
 haps he had been wrong the night before, when he 
 determined not to see her again. He would have to 
 go back to the other life soon enough. Why throw 
 away what little taste of happiness might be left to 
 him, in this unexpected renewal of the old ? He was 
 entitled to enjoy her friendship for a little while, 
 even tho he could never hope for any closer rela- 
 tionship. Going away wouldn't cure him of his love 
 for her he was at last too miserably certain of 
 that, and by staying, he might have a few hours of 
 happiness which he could look back upon through 
 all the future years. A half loaf was surely better 
 than no bread. 
 
 " It is a great surprise to meet you here," he said, 
 at last. " How did you happen to come ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Cartwright is a cousin of mine, and I came 
 out to meet my brother." 
 
 "Your brother? Have you a brother in the 
 16 241
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Philippines ? " he asked, in surprise, for he had never 
 met Doctor Fairchild in the old days. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; you never met him, did you ? He is in 
 the army now." 
 
 " In the army ? You mean an officer ? " 
 
 " He is a contract surgeon." 
 
 " Not Doctor Richard Fairchild ? " he exclaimed, a 
 light breaking in upon him suddenly. 
 
 " The same. You don't mean to say that you 
 have met him ? " 
 
 " Why, yes but I never knew that he was your 
 brother. And 'yet it seems strange now, that the 
 idea of a possible relationship did not occur to me. 
 He was Post surgeon at Silay, where I was stationed, 
 and took care of me when I had the fever last year." 
 
 She noticed that he referred only to his fever. 
 " How odd. That was when you were wounded 
 wasn't it?" 
 
 " How did you know I was wounded ? " he asked 
 in surprise. 
 
 " Oh, I know all about you," she replied, merrily. 
 
 Altho she glanced at him as she spoke, she did 
 not note the quick anxious look that came into his 
 face, to vanish again, leaving it a shade paler than 
 before. Then, an instant later, dread that she knew 
 
 of his marriage changed to a hope that it might 
 
 242
 
 AN UNSEEN BARRIER 
 
 indeed be so. If she did, and still received him in 
 this friendly way, his fears that she would despise 
 him had been groundless. " Do you ? " he asked at 
 length, wondering how far her knowledge went. 
 
 " Yes. I was talking to some one about you, last 
 night. Some one who knows you very well." 
 
 "Who was it?" 
 
 " Captain Taylor. He dined with us at the Paris 
 cafe, and said some exceedingly nice things about 
 you." 
 
 " He is very kind. I have always had the great- 
 est regard for him. You know he was my company 
 commander while I was in the army. He is a very 
 fine officer. How did he happen to speak of me ? " 
 
 " It was apropos of bravery on the field. He told 
 how you saved his life at Santiago. Yes," she con- 
 tinued after waiting a moment for him to speak. 
 " And I want to tell you how magnificent I think 
 it was." 
 
 Her words gave him the keenest sensation of 
 pleasure that had been his for two years, but there 
 was a mixture of bitter with the sweet. He recalled 
 clearly how, as he had staggered across the field that 
 day, under the weight of Taylor's body, he had felt 
 a stinging pain in his leg and had hoped that if the 
 end was to come, it would come then. There had 
 
 243
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 been a great happiness in those moments. The wild, 
 fierce joy of battle had been in his veins, and the 
 pleasure of the deed had been doubled by the thought 
 that she would some day learn of it., She had done 
 so, at last, and here, on the other side of the earth, 
 he learned of that knowledge from her own lips. 
 And the most it could ever do for him now, would 
 be to soften the contempt with which she would re- 
 gard him when the sword should fall. 
 
 " It was only my duty, under the circumstances," 
 he replied, " besides I wanted to do something out 
 of the ordinary and I liked Taylor. Altogether it 
 was quite an act of selfishness." 
 
 " Very likely," she observed, thinking that the sub- 
 ject did not admit of argument. 
 
 The short reply made him uncomfortably aware 
 that his last words sounded like an affectation and 
 had not been taken in the proper spirit. 
 
 " Don't think that I am trying to be like the heroes 
 in novels," he said. " You see, in time of war, all 
 men are looking for just such opportunities. Men 
 are not so unselfishly brave as you imagine. If 
 there was no chance for personal individual distinc- 
 tion and recognition, I imagine that there would be 
 very few wars. I wanted to win the medal of honor 
 
 and that was my opportunity." 
 
 244
 
 AN UNSEEN BARRIER 
 
 " Just because you were actuated by a sordid, 
 ignoble motive, you have no right to accuse all the 
 others of selfishness," she retorted. 
 
 He laughed. " I was judging of others by my- 
 self. Forgive me if I took too low a standard." 
 
 " Very well, I will forgive you altho it's not 
 easy. You see I had made quite a hero of you, and 
 nothing vexes a woman more than to have her idols 
 overthrown in that fashion." 
 
 " I am sorry." 
 
 " But I have not told you yet how I came to 
 learn that you were wounded. I heard it from your 
 father." 
 
 " Indeed ! How was that ? " 
 
 " I saw him last September to make arrangements 
 about this trip and he told me then. That was the 
 first I had heard of it." She paused, turning her 
 head slightly, and giving him a quick glance, then she 
 concluded slowly, in a voice which was wonderfully 
 soft and sympathetic : " You have been through a 
 great deal since I saw you last. You must have 
 suffered greatly." 
 
 " Most men do at some tune in their lives. I 
 have had my hours of happiness, too." 
 
 " I suppose it's necessary," she replied, thought- 
 fully, " that we should suffer, if we are to develop. 
 
 345
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 But it seems hard that we can't develop in some 
 other way." 
 
 " And the worst of it is that the more you develop, 
 the more vulnerable you become to suffering." 
 
 " But more capable of happiness, at the same time, 
 I hope?" 
 
 " I don't see the logic of that. It isn't necessary 
 to suffer in order to be capable of happiness. It's 
 not necessary to be abnormal in order to be normal 
 afterwards. A child is happy, and children do not 
 suffer in the way you mean." 
 
 " I think you are mistaken there. I believe 
 human nature can reach its greatest height only by 
 crossing the greatest depths; children are not men 
 and women." 
 
 " But still I can't believe," he persisted, " that our 
 emotions are like our muscles; that they have to be 
 exercised and played upon in order to be capable of 
 happiness. I can't believe that suffering strengthens 
 the power to enjoy. I think it weakens it, by 
 robbing us of vitality. Perhaps a man's happiness 
 is like his bank account, the more he draws on it the 
 less there is left." 
 
 She shook her head slightly, being a believer in the 
 doctrine that whatever comes to one in life, whether 
 joy or sorrow, goes to make character and refine 
 
 246
 
 *" AN UNSEEN BARRIER 
 
 sensibility. She was temporarily at a loss for words 
 with which to express the thought and before she 
 found them, he added: 
 
 " But, nevertheless, I mean to draw on my bank 
 account every time I have the opportunity." 
 
 " You will exhaust it if you do, according to your 
 theory," said Constance. 
 
 " Perhaps. But, on the other hand, if I don't, I 
 may die before it is exhausted. How long will you 
 remain here ? " 
 
 " For some time yet. Until my brother's contract 
 expires. I am enjoying it very much." 
 
 He reflected that just so long as he could be near 
 her, his credit at that bank would hold out. Why 
 not draw upon it liberally while it lasted? 
 
 " I think your financial education has been neg- 
 lected," said Constance, after a moment. " You 
 imagine that your happiness is in a bank, subject to 
 your order. It's not." 
 
 " No ? " said Everton, thinking how much happi- 
 ness there was in being near her. " Where is it ? " 
 
 " It's in the hands of a trustee, who doles it out as 
 you earn it and when you make unreasonable 
 demands, he turns a deaf ear." 
 
 "And what shall we call the 'trustee'?" he 
 
 asked. 
 
 247
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Oh, call him Fate, Destiny ; anything you will." 
 
 " I hope," said the young man, with a touch of 
 bitterness in his voice, " that some time in this 
 world or the next, our trustees will have to make 
 their accountings and hand over the happiness they 
 have failed to pay to us here." 
 
 " Perhaps they will pay it yet," said Constance, a 
 soft light coming into her dark eyes. 
 
 Everton knew very well that the happiness he 
 wanted could never be his on this earth. He 
 knocked the ashes from his cigar and said : " I think 
 yours is a very mistaken theory. Sorrows are not 
 nice things, any way you look at them. A sorrow 
 to-day does not make a joy for to-morrow seem 
 greater. It is the skeleton at to-morrow's feast." 
 
 " No, no, that isn't so," said Constance, earnestly. 
 " I have had sorrows in my life, but they have not 
 remained such always. I have tried to turn them 
 into lessons." 
 
 " It depends on the nature of the evil, of course," 
 said Everton. " You will admit that there are 
 things which can crush and crush for all time put- 
 ting one beyond the possibility of happiness ? " 
 
 " Of a certain specified happiness, perhaps ; but of 
 all happiness no. Happiness in a general sense can 
 be had by any one who takes the right view of life."
 
 V 
 
 AN UNSEEN BARRIER 
 
 " In that case you must conquer all your stronger 
 feelings first," he answered. " Sometimes what you 
 call a certain specified happiness means all happiness 
 to a man " he stopped suddenly, realizing that he 
 was upon dangerous ground. She caught her 
 breath and waited expectantly. After a pause he 
 returned to the discussion of her metaphor. " If 
 the happiness of some people is in the hands of their 
 ' trustees,' that of others is in the hands of a ' re- 
 ceiver/ I imagine," he said. 
 
 " Even so do not men go through bankruptcy 
 that they may be put on their feet again, and start 
 afresh?" 
 
 He laughed. " I am afraid you will turn all my 
 arguments against me. I might as well yield now." 
 
 " An optimist should always conquer a pessimist, 
 on such subjects." 
 
 " Do you call me a pessimist ? " 
 
 " Not entirely. But you seem to take rather a 
 gloomy view of life." 
 
 He did not reply immediately, and when he did, it 
 was to ask some question about her voyage out, and 
 how she had liked Japan. From this the conversa- 
 tion drifted into other channels, and they spoke of 
 many things. He wanted to know what the world 
 
 had been doing during the two years he had been out 
 
 249
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 of it, and she wanted to hear of his life as a soldier. 
 She talked of books and the theaters and politics, and 
 the many things which go to make up the life of civi- 
 lization, and are as meat and drink to the mind long 
 accustomed to their stimulus. He told her of Cas- 
 sidy and Redder and the man from Tennessee, relat- 
 ing some anecdotes that provoked a laugh, and some 
 which brought tears of sympathy to her eyes. And 
 she noted that in these last it was always of the en- 
 durance or the fortitude of others that he spoke. He 
 referred to himself as a mere onlooker. It was 
 difficult for her to realize from the way in which he 
 spoke of the hardships and trials of life in the ranks, 
 that he himself had been a partaker of them. 
 
 On one subject there was a reticence which 
 puzzled her. He avoided speaking of his future 
 its plans or its hopes. He talked freely of his life as 
 a soldier, but the narrative stopped short with his 
 discharge from the army. 
 
 Only once during the evening did he in any way 
 refer to his present work, and when she recalled that 
 occasion afterwards, she remembered that he had 
 only done so then because, in a way, compelled to. 
 
 She had been speaking again of her call upon his 
 father, and when she had finished he asked, " How 
 
 was he when you saw him ? " 
 
 250
 
 AN UNSEEN BARRIER 
 
 Constance was about to reply, conventionally, that 
 Mr. Everton had been very well, but checked herself 
 in time. She had an opening, now, to say something 
 which she had wanted to say ever since she had 
 learned that he proposed to make his home in the 
 Philippines. She thought that the son's place was 
 at his father's side, under the circumstances. 
 
 " He was not at all well, apparently. He seemed 
 old and weak. I think he misses you more than you 
 can know. He seemed like a man with a great 
 weight on his mind." 
 
 The last sentence caused Everton to think for a 
 moment before replying. She had seen his father 
 eight months ago. That was before the big draft, 
 which had cost the young man so much, had gone 
 from Iloilo to New York. That accounted for Mar- 
 shall Everton's having had something on his mind. 
 The son looked at the beautiful girl at his side and 
 then thought bitterly of Mercedes and the ruin which 
 had been brought in his life by the father's act. A 
 touch of this bitterness found utterance in his voice 
 when he next spoke. 
 
 " I fancy he is all right by this time." 
 
 The reply jarred upon her inexpressibly, and 
 caused her to shrink from him. She remembered 
 
 the anxiety and love in Marshall Everton's manner, 
 
 251
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 when he had spoken of this son, and now the son 
 could refer to him like that. The words sounded 
 almost brutal in her ears, and she wondered quickly 
 whether the man's experience as a soldier could have 
 brutalized him and deadened his finer sensibilities. 
 She had read somewhere that war had that effect. 
 
 " Your imagination must be a great comfort to 
 you," she observed in a colder tone than she had ever 
 before used in speaking to him. " But I don't see 
 just why you think that your father is better than he 
 was eight months ago. When a man gets to his time 
 of life the months don't necessarily bring more 
 strength as they pass by. Your father is a lonely old 
 man and ill if I am any judge, and " she stopped 
 suddenly. 
 
 " And what? " he asked, quietly. 
 
 " I have no right to say what I was going to say." 
 
 " If I can give you the right please go on." 
 
 " Well, then I think you ought to be with him 
 that's all. Why don't you go home ? " 
 
 He hesitated. " I can't very well just now. I 
 have interests out here which require my presence." 
 
 " You know your own business best, of course," 
 she replied. " But I should say that you owed your 
 first duty to him ; that you ought to go home and be 
 with him during the last years of his life." 
 
 252
 
 A.N UNSEEN BARRIER 
 
 He fell silent again for a moment. Several 
 months afterwards he remembered that remark and 
 wondered why he had been so dense as not to infer 
 from it that she cared for him. His knowledge of 
 women was not as deep as his knowledge of men. 
 It never occurred to him that she could have learned 
 to care during the years they had been separated. 
 Nor did it occur to him that she would never, un- 
 asked, have told him what his duty was, unless she 
 loved him and took a personal interest in wishing to 
 see that duty performed. 
 
 " I don't think you understand just how it is," he 
 said, after a while. " I am not staying out here to 
 gratify any personal whim. My father has been un- 
 fortunate and we are now poor. He wrote to me to 
 remain here if I could find any opening and well, 
 I am only remaining because I have to earn my liv- 
 ing and I don't know that I could do so, at home." 
 
 Constance realized that she had forced him to 
 speak of his poverty and that possibly the confession 
 hurt him. In this she did him an injustice. If 
 poverty had been his only affliction, he would have 
 been a happy man that night; if it had been the only 
 barrier between them, he would have spoken words 
 which she wanted to hear. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," she said contritely. " I had 
 253
 
 D4NIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 no right to speak as I did. Of course you know 
 best." 
 
 " I am glad you did speak, since you felt that 
 way." 
 
 She played with her fan for a moment, turning 
 over something in her mind that she wished to say, 
 and wondering how to put it. At length she said 
 suddenly, " Speaking of trustees. You know that 
 your father is the trustee under my father's will, 
 of the money he left me ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Everton, slowly. " Yes, I know 
 it." 
 
 " Well ; I had a letter from him the other day, and 
 he said that as the time of the accounting had come, 
 he wished to make it, and I don't know what he 
 called it, but he means he wants to turn over every- 
 thing to me. I am going to write and ask him if he 
 can't continue to manage my affairs for me, for the 
 present at least. He will do it, won't he ? Isn't that 
 part of a lawyer's business the management of 
 estates ? " 
 
 Everton took some time for consideration before 
 replying. " I wouldn't do that if I were you," he 
 said, slowly, after a long pause one for which she 
 was unable to account. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 254
 
 AN UNSEEN BARRIER 
 
 " Of course he would be delighted to be of any 
 service, but " 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 " Well he's getting on in years, for one thing, 
 and for another, I think every woman should know 
 how to manage her own affairs." 
 
 " If you think he is not equal to it, of course that 
 makes a difference," said Constance, regretfully. 
 
 It had occurred to her to employ Marshall Ever- 
 ton to manage her affairs and pay him a handsome 
 salary for the service ; but the words, and more than 
 that, something in the manner of the son, made her 
 think that he did not wish it. She could not explain 
 her very generous motive to her companion, and so 
 changed the subject, and the conversation turned 
 upon impersonal matters once more. 
 
 As they talked, Everton was disturbedin the happi- 
 ness of being with her, by the not pleasant thought 
 that he was a coward. He had been with her all the 
 evening and had said nothing about his marriage. 
 He tried to argue to himself that he was under no 
 obligation to do so, but the sophistry did not soothe 
 his conscience. Once he nerved himself to speak, 
 but as he looked at her, he found himself utterly 
 unable to utter the words which he knew would put 
 an end to her friendship and respect. He was just 
 
 255
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 coming to the conclusion that perhaps after all, the 
 best way out of the difficulty would be not to see 
 her again, when he suddenly realized the lateness of 
 the hour. 
 
 " I must be going," he said, rising. 
 
 She followed his example and held out her hand. 
 " If you have nothing better to do, come and have 
 a cup of tea, at five to-morrow. Captain Taylor will 
 be here and he will be delighted to see you again." 
 
 " Thank you very much," he said. " I will." 
 256
 
 Chapter XVI 
 A SOCIAL VERDICT 
 
 ONSTANCE was making the tea, and found 
 the task no inconsiderable one, for the big 
 hall, which served as a living room to the 
 occupants of the house on Calle Real, was crowded. 
 
 Lieutenant Humphrey such was the name of 
 the cavalry subaltern was there, on Mrs. Cart- 
 wright's invitation, and occupied a seat on the big 
 divan by Mabel's side. The young man had but 
 recently arrived from a long tour of duty in a small 
 pueblo near Dagupan. Before that he had been for 
 four years at the Military Academy, and behind that 
 was the recollection of a boyhood passed on a Mis- 
 souri farm. He was, in fact, having his first experi- 
 ence of what is ambiguously known as " society," 
 and he was enjoying it hugely. 
 
 There was also an Englishman, named Marcy, 
 whom the party had met in Japan, and who, after 
 
 traveling from Shanghai to Hongkong on the same 
 17 257
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 ship with Constance, had suddenly discovered that 
 he had always wanted to visit the Philippines, and 
 had followed them there. 
 
 " Will you take cream, Captain Taylor? " inquired 
 Constance. 
 
 That officer had been regarding her silently for 
 some minutes and now, being addressed, started sud- 
 denly. " Yes, thank you; one lump, please." 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright was the only one, besides Con- 
 stance, who noticed the absurdity of the reply, and 
 she noticed it because she never missed anything. 
 She made it a point never to become so interested in 
 conversation with any one person, as to be unable to 
 follow what the others in the party were saying. 
 She glanced quickly at Taylor, who noticed her look 
 and grew red. 
 
 Constance had already put two lumps in the cup, 
 but deftly fished one out as she handed it to him. 
 
 " Ruins tea milk and sugar," observed the 
 Englishman, who wished to be a party to any con- 
 versation which included Constance. 
 
 His remark caused her to glance in his direction 
 and she noticed that he had finished his. " Can I 
 give you another cup ? " she asked. 
 
 "By Jove, no! Miss Fairchild. You certainly 
 
 need a rest." 
 
 258
 
 A SOCIAL VERDICT 
 
 " Not at all. I love to make tea. It's such fun 
 fussing with the things. I suppose that we women 
 take the same sort of pleasure out of it that you men 
 do out of your cigar." 
 
 " If you were a Filipina, Miss Fairchild, you 
 could have the fun of smoking, too," said the cavalry 
 subaltern. 
 
 " Do the native women smoke; the nice ones, the 
 ladies 2 " inquired the Englishman. 
 
 " "No" said Everton, shifting uncomfortably in 
 his chair, and joining in the general conversation for 
 the first time. 
 
 " I don't know what you call the ' ladies,' " per- 
 sisted the young officer, " but I've seen lots of the 
 women smoking, and pretty ones, too. On the 
 streets, what's more." 
 
 " In Russia, the ah ladies smoke," observed 
 Mr. Marcy, putting down his cup and stroking his 
 long blond mustache. 
 
 " I don't know exactly what you mean by Fili- 
 pino ladies," said Colonel Cartwright, slowly. " All 
 coons look alike to me," whereat there was a laugh 
 in which all present joined but one, and that one felt 
 that he was growing crimson. 
 
 " I should hardly call these people ' coons/ " said { 
 Taylor.
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 !/ " Nor should I," added Constance. " A coon is 
 a negro, and these people are hardly that." 
 
 She noticed that Everton had spilled a few drops 
 of tea on to his white duck trousers. She noticed, 
 too, that he had grown very pale, and wondered 
 anxiously if he could be ill. She did not know that 
 her use of the word " hardly " had cut him like a 
 knife. 
 
 " They do have ' ladies ' out here as opposed to the 
 lower orders," Taylor insisted, sturdily, " and I've 
 been delightfully entertained by them. Haven't 
 you, Everton ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied the other, in a low tone. 
 
 Mr. Marcy was unable to conceal his surprise at 
 this statement. " Oh, I say," he protested, " you 
 surely don't mean to tell me that you military chaps 
 associate with the ah coons in a social way ? " 
 
 " I have, more than once. We've had to associate 
 with them down in the south. In going about the 
 country we are often obliged to put up with them, 
 and they're awfully hospitable." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; of course for a man on active service, 
 don't you know. Under those conditions I fancy one 
 has to put up with anything. But you don't asso- 
 ciate with them here in Manila, surely ? " 
 
 " I don't know any of the native families here yet. 
 260
 
 A SOCIAL VERDICT 
 
 I imagine that I should, however. I believe the 
 others do." 
 
 " You won't for long, by Jove," said the English- 
 man, confidently. " It's because you've just taken 
 hold of the nigger and don't know just what to do 
 with him." 
 
 " It's a pity about that," observed Colonel Cart- 
 wright, dryly. " We've a few niggers in the States, 
 you know." 
 
 Mr. Marcy was too scrupulously well bred to re- 
 mind his host of the not over able or masterly way in 
 which the citizens of his great republic have handled 
 the negro problem in the last hundred years. The 
 Englishman had not intended his last remark to be 
 patronizing and hastened to explain. 
 
 " When I say t nigger ' in that sense, I mean the 
 East Indian and the Malay not the African. Of 
 course you know more about the latter than we do 
 or any one else. Now, with us, in India " 
 
 " How is it in India? " asked Constance, inter- 
 ested. 
 
 " Why, in India, Miss Fairchild, one has nothing 
 to do with the native, or what we call the Eurasian, 
 which corresponds to your mestiza here. We don't 
 associate with them at all, you know. Absolutely 
 impossible as much as one's reputation is worth to \ 
 
 261
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 be seen talking to one of their women. I don't know 
 just how to express it, but well, in short, they're 
 niggers, you know ! " 
 
 After this, for him, remarkably long and lucid ex- 
 planation, the Englishman relapsed into silence and 
 fell to regarding Constance once more. 
 
 " We certainly associate with them out here," said 
 Mabel. " We go to the balls and things they give, 
 and they come to the ones we give." 
 
 " You astonish me," asserted Mr. Marcy. 
 
 " The cases are not at all parallel," said Colonel 
 Cartwright, prying open a box of cigars with his pen- 
 knife. " As I understand the matter, the men in 
 India themselves, the natives, don't associate with 
 any women but their own wives, and those they keep 
 shut up in harems. These people are not polyga- 
 mists. They are very different, and we'll have to as- 
 sociate with them or else they will hate us." He 
 finished opening the box and handed it to Mr. Marcy. 
 " The ladies don't mind," he explained. 
 
 "No, indeed. We like it," added Mrs. Cart- 
 wright. 
 
 " When we are in Eome, we must do as the ah 
 Komans do," said the Englishman, taking a cigar. 
 " There is certainly something in what you say about 
 
 the difference in the races," he admitted. 
 
 263
 
 A SOCIAL VERDICT 
 
 " Nevertheless," said Mrs. Cartwright, who, it 
 seemed, was destined by fate to differ with her hus- 
 band on most topics, " I don't believe that we will 
 always associate with them, socially. I think that 
 when we have a larger American colony out here 
 they will keep to themselves and not mix with the 
 natives." 
 
 " I know one chap," said Mr. Marcy, " who used 
 to live up near Lahore. He never saw a white 
 woman from one year's end to another, and, by Jove, 
 he up and married one of the Eurasians deuced 
 pretty girl she was, too. But when he went back to 
 Bombay on a visit, there wasn't a door in the town 
 that wasn't shut tight in his face ! " 
 
 " Association in a social way is one thing ; mar- 
 riage is another," said Constance, with an expression 
 of disgust. Everton was looking intently at her, and 
 not a particle of that expression escaped him. 
 
 Mr. Marcy appeared to be turning something over 
 in his mind. " Well," he observed, slowly, " they 
 needn't have been so deuced hard on him because he 
 married the girl. He might better have done that 
 than to " He realized, suddenly, that he was speak- 
 ing too freely and checked himself, flushing pain- 
 fully. There was a pause of an instant's duration, 
 during which each of those present finished out the 
 
 263
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 sentence, mentally. All of the women agreed with 
 the unvoiced sentiment, while most of the men dis- 
 agreed with it. One of Miss Fairchild's greatest 
 gifts was a social presence of mind. She caught up 
 the sentence where he had dropped it. 
 
 " Than to go through life without a wife ? I am 
 \J not sure but that I agree with you, especially if he 
 had to live in such a place. No doubt she made him 
 a good one." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said the Englishman, much re- 
 lieved. She died." 
 
 This addition was greeted with a hearty laugh. 
 N \ 
 
 " Those cases don't happen very often, though," he 
 
 continued. " I have never known of but the one in- 
 stance." 
 
 " I have never been in India," said Constance, 
 " but these people strike me as being very intel- 
 ligent; at least those whom it has been my fortune to 
 meet." 
 
 " And excepting those whom it has been our mis- 
 J fortune to employ as servants," added Mrs. Cart- 
 wright, dryly. 
 
 " You'll make a mistake, if you treat them as 
 \ equals, just the same," persisted Mr. Marcy. " A 
 nigger's a nigger wherever one meets him." 
 
 " Well ; such of the American people as mean to 
 264
 
 A SOCIAL VERDICT 
 
 make their homes out here, will have to associate 
 with them that's all," replied Colonel Cartwright. 
 " They are vastly in the majority and always will 
 be. The Spaniards associated with them." 
 
 " Not on terms of equality, did they ? " 
 
 " They married them." 
 
 " Ah, yes; of course they did out here. And 
 they butchered them pretty freely, too. But they 
 didn't take their wives home with them to Spain, I 
 fancy. Deuced proud chaps those Dons ! " 
 
 " Wasn't it only the lower classes who married the 
 natives ? " inquired Constance. " As I understand 
 it, the governors and other officials brought their 
 wives out with them from Spain. I can't imagine a 
 Spanish gentleman's marrying a native." 
 
 Everton found it impossible to endure the conver- 
 sation any longer. He picked up his hat, which had 
 been reposing on the floor by his side, and crossed to 
 where Mrs. Cartwright sat. " Must you go so 
 soon ? " inquired that matron, cordially, noting that 
 the hand which took hers was very cold. 
 
 " Yes I I have an engagement, and it is al- 
 ready past the time." 
 
 " Come and see us often, informally. We are at 
 home every afternoon before six." 
 
 " Thank you very much." He turned toward 
 265
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Constance, and, as she extended her hand, he noticed 
 an almost tender look in her eyes. She had been ob- 
 serving him during the last ten minutes and had 
 seen, with the eyes of love ; that he was suffering. 
 Having no inkling of the true cause of his distress, 
 she attributed it to physical weakness, and she knew 
 that he was the man to endure severe bodily pain for 
 a long time without speaking. Then she wondered 
 where it was that he had been wounded and whether 
 it was still troubling him or not. Like Mrs. Cart- 
 wright she noticed that his hand was cold and she 
 noticed also that it trembled. 
 
 " Are you ill ? " she asked, in a voice so low as to 
 be audible to him alone ; so anxious and solicitous as 
 to tell her secret to any one but him. 
 
 " No ; I am not ill," he answered with an effort. 
 " I will come and see you again." 
 
 As he spoke, he resolved that it was the last time 
 he would allow himself to be placed in such a posi- 
 tion. The next time he came he would tell her 
 everything, and then she could take what course she 
 chose. He owed it to his own manhood not to risk 
 another experience like this. 
 
 " Yes ; do," she said softly, " and soon." 
 
 An hour later Mrs. Cartwright and Constance were
 
 A SOCIAL VERDICT 
 
 alone, the callers having left and the other members 
 of the household having gone their several ways; 
 the Colonel to the club for a cocktail and Mabel to 
 the garden with what her mother termed her " ever- 
 lasting paint box." Mrs. Cartwright was sewing and 
 Constance was sitting with her hands folded in her 
 lap, at the big window which opened on the bay. 
 
 " What's the matter with your Mr. Everton ? " 
 asked the older woman, biting off a thread. 
 
 Constance started slightly. " Nothing, that I am 
 aware of. Why?" 
 
 " Didn't you notice him ? " 
 
 " Not especially." 
 
 " I should judge not," replied Mrs. Cartwright. 
 " I did, however, all the time we were talking about 
 India and the natives he was as white as a ghost, or 
 as white as a ghost can be who has been campaigning 
 in the tropics for two years. It's not natural for a 
 healthy man to look like that. I tell you there is 
 something the matter with him." 
 
 " I asked him if he felt ill and he said ' no.' " 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright advanced a stiff and determined 
 thread-end toward the eye of her needle. When 
 she had passed it through she glanced at Constance 
 curiously. The girl's last remark, taken in connec- 
 tion with her previous statement that she had not 
 
 267
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 noticed Everton's manner, went a long way toward 
 confirming the suspicion which had long ago for- 
 mulated itself in her cousin's mind. " Probably it's 
 nothing serious," she continued. " He was sick last 
 year and they say men don't recuperate rapidly in 
 this climate." 
 
 Constance made no reply. She was wondering 
 whether, if Everton should be taken sick, it would 
 be proper for her to go and take care of him, and she 
 made up her mind that it would, if she had to move 
 the whole Cartwright family to the Oriente Hotel 
 to make it so. 
 
 Not having gotten all the information she desired, 
 Mrs. Cartwright returned to the subject. " I think 
 he's very nice," she said, in a tone which indicated 
 that she was entirely open to conviction in the matter, 
 and invited discussion. Constance, however, did not 
 avail herself of the opportunity. 
 
 " Don't you ? " persisted Mrs. Cartwright, after a 
 long pause. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The simple monosyllable was discouraging, and the 
 older woman saw that any attempt at a further cross- 
 examination would be detected. So she tactfully 
 changed the subject. After a little, Constance de- 
 clared her intention of going into the garden. 
 
 268
 
 A SOCIAL VERDICT 
 
 " You will find Mabel there. I'll let you know 
 when it's time to dress for dinner." 
 
 As Constance passed down the broad stairway she 
 encountered the Colonel coming up. 
 
 " Have you had your cocktail ? " inquired his wife, 
 as he entered the hall and throwing himself into a 
 long chair, picked up a magazine from the table. 
 
 Colonel Cartwright was one of those men to whom 
 truthfulness meant entire frankness. So firmly was 
 this characteristic implanted in his being that thirty 
 odd years of wedded life had failed to uproot it. 
 
 " Three," he answered, shortly. 
 
 " Not three cocktails ! " protested Mrs. Cartwright, 
 in some alarm. She remembered how her husband 
 had, nearly thirty years before, when he was a 
 lieutenant and their home a remote frontier Post, 
 visited the Post sutler's once or twice too often, and 
 remained a little too long each time. Thirty years 
 of entire sobriety had never quite sufficed to efface 
 that recollection. " How did you happen to take 
 three ? " she demanded. 
 
 " Three fellows; each treated," explained the 
 Colonel briefly, without taking his eyes from the 
 magazine, in which he had selected at random an 
 article on how actresses make up for the stage. 
 "Where's Mabel?" 
 
 269
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " In the garden," replied his wife, compressing 
 her thin lips tightly and viciously biting off another 
 thread. She had something to say on the subject of 
 the three cocktails, and her husband had discovered 
 that when this was the case the easiest way was to let 
 her say it at once. Her marital displeasure was of 
 the type to thrive on repression and become stronger 
 with every day she remained silent. He laid the 
 magazine in his lap, keeping the place with his finger, 
 and looked at her over the top of his gold-rimmed 
 eyeglasses. 
 
 "Well? "he said. 
 
 " Well ? " she replied, interrogatively. 
 
 " You had something to say ? " 
 
 She sniffed contemptuously. " I don't know that 
 what I had to say is important. You're of age." 
 
 " Yes; I'm afraid so," he replied, gazing thought- 
 fully at the reflection of his white hair and mus- 
 tache, in the mirror. " But," he added, with a 
 twinkle in his keen gray eyes, " I'm married." 
 
 " What has that to do with it? " 
 
 " I may need a strong hand, sometimes, to guide 
 me over the pitfalls which beset the path of young 
 soldiers of sixty years." 
 
 She smiled, faintly. " I am afraid you are rather 
 
 a hardened character, Laurence. However, I may 
 
 270
 
 A SOCIAL VERDICT 
 
 as well say what I started to. I think that people 
 ought to be careful how they drink in this climate." 
 
 " Drink/' replied her husband, regarding her with 
 comic gravity, " is a thing people ought to be care- 
 ful about in any climate." 
 
 " Of course ; but the tropics, especially, are known 
 as being bad places to drink in. The English have 
 discovered it." 
 
 " That's right; they have. And so have the 
 Scotch. If you could see the way those fellows put 
 it down at the Tiffin Club, you'd say that Manila 
 came devilish near being the worst place on earth for 
 drink, and that there is no doubt about the British- 
 ers having discovered it." 
 
 " You can make a jest of it, if you want to. You 
 can make fun of anything. But the English have 
 had a great deal of experience in tropical campaign- 
 ing. That's one thing, at least, that they can give 
 you points on." 
 
 " Is the Transvaal in the tropics ? " inquired the 
 Colonel, demurely. 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright scorned to reply to this question, 
 but resumed her sewing. Then, as he glanced at 
 her, her husband saw that her lip was trembling. 
 Leaning over, he patted her affectionately on the 
 
 hand. " There, there ; my love. You are quite 
 
 371
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 right, and I was only teasing you. Every one knows 
 that drink's a bad thing out here." 
 
 " You ought not to take three cocktails at once, 
 then," she replied, somewhat mollified. 
 
 " I don't, as a rule." 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright finished one piece of work and 
 picked up another. As she was about to begin on this 
 fresh task, she paused. 
 
 " Laurence ! " 
 
 "Yes, Laura?" 
 
 " .What do you think of young Humphrey? " 
 
 " Why, I believe he's a very good officer as 
 youngsters go." 
 
 " Haven't you noticed that he seems to have taken 
 a great fancy to Mabel? " 
 
 "No. Has he?" 
 
 " A mother's eyes are more open. I've noticed it." 
 
 " Pshaw ! There's nothing in it." 
 
 " Don't you be too certain of that I am not sure 
 but that it might be a good thing." 
 
 The Colonel made no reply to this observation, 
 being absorbed in the article he was reading. He 
 loved Mabel, in his way, but he was also able to rec- 
 ognize the fact that she was not of the type which 
 usually attracts admiration from men. After a 
 
 moment Mrs. Cartwright resumed: 
 
 273
 
 A SOCIAL YERDICT 
 
 " I had hoped that the child would marry into civil 
 life, but she seems perfectly daft over the army." 
 
 " Let her suit herself," replied Colonel Cart- 
 wright. " I see no immediate cause for us to worry 
 about it." 
 
 " We ought to settle her in life, before we go." 
 
 " Well; how the mischief are we going to do it? 
 I've thought of it too. I know that if I should die 
 she'd have to keep school or run a boarding house, 
 and the thought's not a pleasant one. But what's to 
 be done ? She doesn't seem to care for any one," he 
 added after a moment's pause. 
 
 " No. And she hasn't since " 
 
 The Colonel nodded. " That was a pity. He 
 seemed to care for her and would have made a good 
 husband, I imagine. But he's dead and out of the 
 race." 
 
 " Not out of her heart, though, and never will be, 
 I'm afraid. However, that is not the only thing to 
 be considered." 
 
 " It's a pretty big consideration, with a girl like 
 Mabel," observed the Colonel, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Yes but it can be arranged, and " she added, 
 nodding her head slowly and regarding him with a 
 determined gaze, " I mean to arrange it." 
 
 Her husband was about to ask how she proposed to 
 18 273
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 go about it, but changed his mind and went back to 
 his magazine, instead. 
 
 " What is your opinion of Mr. Everton ? " she 
 asked, as he opened it. 
 
 " I don't know. I haven't thought much about 
 him. You say he's a gentleman and he certainly ap- 
 pears to be." 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright shook her head mysteriously. " I 
 am a woman," she said, " and of course you'll say 
 that a woman's instinct is all nonsense, but it's my 
 opinion that there is something queer about that 
 young man. He isn't all on the surface." 
 
 " No one is, except people like that Britisher," re- 
 plied the Colonel, who disliked the English as a race, 
 because he had never known more than half a dozen 
 in his life, and those had chanced to be what he re- 
 garded as blockheads. 
 
 " Very well," continued Mrs. Cartwright, with the 
 air of one who pours forth a great prophecy to un- 
 believing ears, " but just you mark my words and 
 we'll see. There's something mysterious about him." 
 
 The Colonel restored the magazine to the table 
 and looked at his watch. " Nonsense," he said; 
 " you'd find a mystery between the lines of the drill 
 regulations, Laura. Come; let us join the young 
 people in the garden." 
 
 274
 
 Chapter XVII 
 PERPLEXITY 
 
 HE most uncomfortable of mental attitudes is 
 indecision. A set purpose brings with it a 
 measure of comfort even tho the resolution 
 may be to do something which is, in itself, painful. 
 One of the most harassing forms of indecision is that 
 which arises from a conflict between inclination on 
 the one hand and duty on the other. This is espe- 
 cially so when the inclination is strong, and the duty 
 not clearly defined. 
 
 For a week after the day when Daniel Everton 
 had been compelled to listen to what was virtually 
 his own arraignment and condemnation, he wavered 
 in a state of indecision more painful and prolonged 
 than any from which he had ever before suffered. 
 During the week, he saw Constance but once, and 
 then it was on the Luneta, one evening, and she did 
 not see him. He avoided her, having already 
 learned enough of his own weakness to realize that he 
 could not resist the temptation to withhold something 
 
 275
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 which his manhood informed him ought to be 
 disclosed. 
 
 For a week, then, he remained in this state of inde- 
 cision; one hour resolved to return on the next boat 
 to the south, and the next, to let matters take their 
 course and drift with the tide. At last, on the morn- 
 ing of the seventh day, he awoke, determined to de- 
 cide the matter at once, that very morning, and then 
 abide by his decision. If it was to stay, he would 
 call on Constance; if it was to go, he would take 
 passage on the " Diamante," which sailed that after- 
 noon for Hongkong and go thence, direct to Iloilo, 
 by some tramp steamer. 
 
 He came to his decision while he was shaving. 
 After arguing the matter pro and con for a week it 
 suddenly appeared to him in a new light. Why not 
 regard himself as secretly married? 
 
 It would be weeks, in all probability, before the 
 news of his wedding reached Manila. Both Doctor 
 Fairchild and Taylor had left Negros before it had 
 taken place, and it was not unlikely that months 
 might elapse before any one who did know of it 
 came up and brought the news. Negros was as re- 
 mote for all purposes of social gossip, as Brazil. 
 
 When Constance Fairchild learned that he, Daniel 
 
 Everton, had married a woman of mixed blood, she 
 
 276
 
 PERPLEXITY 
 
 would despise him and when that time came, she 
 would not do so any the less because she had learned 
 of it through a stranger, and not from him. Why 
 anticipate that moment? He was fighting with his 
 own instinctive sense of what was the manly, honor- 
 able thing to do, and the prize for which he fought, 
 was the happiness of remaining a little longer her 
 friend. And, since he was able to consider the ques- 
 tion as being open to argument, it not unnaturally 
 followed that he won the fight. 
 
 Looking at the matter from every side, his judg- 
 ment told him that he had a right to keep his secret 
 if he so desired. It was an unconventional thing to 
 do, but to be conventional in this case, was to ostra- 
 cize himself from the society of his countrymen. 
 He felt confident that once the fact of his marriage 
 to a mestiza became known in Manila, the doors of 
 the American households would be shut in his face, 
 just as those of Bombay had been in the face of the 
 Englishman to whom Mr. Marcy had referred. Any 
 doubt he might have had on that score had been dis- 
 pelled by the conversation that last afternoon. He 
 smiled grimly, as he thought of how Mrs. Cart- 
 wright's door would be the first to close and with 
 what vigor that lady would slam it. It never oc- 
 curred to him to wonder what Constance's feelings 
 
 277
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 would be, when that time came. He believed that 
 any thoughts she could have for him then, would be 
 entirely contemptuous. 
 
 Had he been called upon to decide the matter for 
 some one else, he would unhesitatingly have declared 
 that there was no good reason for remaining and 
 many excellent ones for going away. Being biased 
 by his personal feelings, however, he argued to him- 
 self, that, as the difficulty was love, it could not be 
 augmented by his remaining, since he could not fall 
 any deeper in love than he had already done. In 
 this he showed his ignorance, for the love for a 
 woman like Constance Fairchild can grow through 
 years of association. For every congenial, happy 
 hour in the present, there would be an additional 
 pang at the hour of parting; a greater longing 
 through the future years. 
 
 Against all cold reason in the matter, was the great 
 force of a long-repressed passion. It seemed to him 
 that all the best of life was in her voice and presence. 
 It was not necessary that they should be alone to- 
 gether ; indeed, it was better in many ways that they 
 should not. All he asked was to be where he could 
 watch her face, and hear her voice, as she spoke to 
 others. That was the simple privilege which he 
 craved, and the more he thought of the new life to 
 
 278
 
 PERPLEXITY 
 
 which he had bound himself, the stronger became the 
 wish to avail himself of what little remained of com- 
 panionship with her. 
 
 The thoughts of that new life were the hardest to 
 bear of any which filled his brain, during that long 
 miserable week. Whenever he abandoned himself 
 to daydreams of Constance, recollections of Mer- 
 cedes and their married life came to him, and he 
 shuddered with a self -disgust. To say that he had 
 experienced any great awakening, after his marriage 
 to the little mestiza, would be to give a false impres- 
 sion of the light in which he had regarded her before 
 marriage. He had never loved her, and conse- 
 quently there had been nothing from which to 
 awaken. Nevertheless, little shocks had come. At 
 the time, they had not made much of an impression 
 upon him. He fancied that he saw in Mercedes a 
 gentle, pliable, little creature, whom he could teach 
 and who would learn. In those days he had had only 
 the natives to contrast her with, and she was as supe- 
 rior to the majority of the native women as she was 
 inferior to Constance. 
 
 But now, with the presence of the woman he loved 
 strong upon him, he recalled again all those little 
 things. Once he had surprised her, on returning 
 suddenly from Silay, in the act of chewing betel-nut. 
 
 279
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 This was the incident which had made the most im- 
 pression on him. Of course he did her an injustice. 
 The severest critic must admit that it was no worse 
 for Mercedes Paris to chew betel-nut than for an 
 American girl to smoke a cigarette ; and that some of 
 the latter do indulge in that pastime and still grow up 
 into lovable wives and mothers, and law-abiding 
 members of the community, there is no room for 
 doubt. But married men, who are in love with other 
 women than their wives, are not invariably just in 
 such matters. 
 
 It is not necessary to linger any longer over the 
 narration of the young man's emotions and regrets, 
 for they are not pleasant topics. Suffice to say that 
 he came to the conclusion that, as long as he made 
 Mercedes a good husband, he had the right to be en- 
 tirely free in his other actions. He would see as 
 much as he liked of Constance until she learned of his 
 marriage, and then 
 
 " Look not into the past ; it comes not back again. 
 Wisely improve the present it is yours. 
 Go forth to meet the shadowy future " 
 
 It was not the first time that advice given in 
 stanzas has been misapplied. He resolved to im- 
 
 280
 
 PERPLEXITY 
 
 prove his " present " and let the future take care of 
 itself. There was sunshine in his present, and on 
 the horizon of the " shadowy future," a single 
 thunder cloud ; behind that, years on years of heavy, 
 sodden rain. 
 
 281 

 
 Chapter XVHI 
 SUNSET 
 
 S the days of that week passed on, without 
 affording her so much as a glimpse of Ever- 
 ton, Constance was at a loss to account for 
 his continued absence. At first, she feared that he 
 might be ill, but on the fourth day, a casual inquiry 
 elicited from Taylor the information that the two 
 men had lunched together. So it was not illness 
 which kept him away. 
 
 His apparent neglect puzzled as well as hurt her. 
 At times, she attributed it to indifference, and 
 thought that possibly he had ceased to love her. 
 Naturally enough, this explanation did not meet with 
 a cordial reception, and she argued that even if 
 he had ceased to care, he would still have called. 
 His remaining away so long indicated that there 
 was something stronger than indifference which 
 prompted him to avoid her. He was a comparative 
 stranger in Manila and she was the only friend he 
 had in the town. He had been, in love with her 
 
 282
 
 SUNSET 
 
 once, and even if he had ceased to regard her in that 
 way, he would still be inclined to linger in her vicin- 
 ity. Past experience had taught her that a man 
 who is rejected by a woman is prone to linger thus 
 until she, or he, falls in love with some one else. 
 
 A few men there are who linger even after the 
 former event. Taylor was one of them, and he had 
 dropped in nearly every day. His visits gave her 
 much pleasure, for she admired the quiet soldier and 
 enjoyed his companionship. But he was unable to 
 fill, in any way, the void caused by the other's ab- 
 sence. 
 
 Having arrived, then, at the conclusion that it was 
 not indifference which prevented Everton's calling, 
 Constance determined to find out, if possible, what it 
 was. To the consideration of this question she de- 
 voted a great many idle moments, and not a few 
 which would not otherwise have been idle. On sev- 
 eral occasions when Taylor was with her, he had mar- 
 veled at her absent-mindedness, and Mrs. Cart- 
 wright had commented on it to her spouse, who had 
 treated the matter in much the same way as he had 
 the references to his daughter's matrimonial affairs. 
 
 Late on the afternoon of the seventh day, Con- 
 stance and Mabel, refreshed by their long siestas, 
 were in the garden of the house on Calle Real. The
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 latter had made the tea and had already finished her 
 cup and returned to her novel. Constance, who had 
 but just joined her, was slowly sipping the beverage 
 and gazing dreamily at the ships in the harbor. She 
 was thinking that it was just the seventh cup of tea 
 she had had since the day when she had last seen 
 Daniel Everton. And he had promised to come 
 again " soon." 
 
 Suddenly Mabel tossed her novel aside and picked 
 up a box of chocolates. " I have no patience with 
 that book ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " What is the matter with it ? " inquired Con* 
 stance, recalled to her present surroundings. 
 
 " It isn't true to life. I hate books which are un- 
 natural." 
 
 " Perhaps this is only unnatural from your point 
 of view. Where did you get it ? " 
 
 " On the ship from Mr. Marcy. This is the first 
 time I have had a chance to read it." 
 
 " What has become of Mr. Marcy ? He hasn't 
 been here for several days. I wonder why he has 
 deserted us ? " 
 
 " Possibly he has given up," suggested Mabel, mis- 
 chievously. " Have you refused him, Constance ? " 
 
 " No; certainly not. He hasn't asked me," replied 
 
 Miss Fairchild, coloring slightly. That the English- 
 
 284
 
 SUNSET 
 
 man had not done so, was due solely to the fact that 
 she had declined to allow him. Proposing marriage 
 was not the Honorable Charles Marcy's specialty, 
 and whenever he had gotten upon dangerous ground, 
 she had managed, skilfully, to avoid a declaration. 
 " You ought not to ask questions like that, Mabel," 
 she continued, severely. 
 
 The only reply to this reproof was a low laugh. 
 " I didn't imagine that you'd tell me, if he had. 
 Don't you like him?" 
 
 "Yes; very much. He's not over brilliant, but 
 he's a gentleman." 
 
 " He's more than that." 
 
 " More than a gentleman ? " asked Constance, in- 
 credulously. 
 
 " Yes. He's an 'Honorable.' '"' 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " Isn't that of any importance ? I'm democratic, 
 but I wouldn't mind being the Duchess of some- 
 thing-or-other, just to see how it seemed." 
 
 " That's what one of my friends is, and she finds 
 the ' something-or-other ' very difficult to get on 
 with. But you have not told me yet in what your 
 book is unnatural." 
 
 " Well; the heroine proposes to the hero, for one 
 thing."
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " I should think that was enough." 
 
 " There were extenuating circumstances, how- 
 ever." 
 
 "Such as what?" 
 
 " He the man that gets proposed to is an in- 
 valid, with hip disease." 
 
 "What happens then?" 
 
 " I don't know. I haven't finished it yet, but I 
 believe he gets well after they are married and falls 
 in love with another woman." 
 
 " How ungrateful of him ! " 
 
 " Yes; isn't it? I don't believe a nice girl would 
 do that. Do you? " 
 
 " Propose to a man ? " Mabel nodded " I 
 shouldn't care to." 
 
 " But suppose he had an infirmity like this one and 
 didn't feel that he had a right to ask you -would 
 that make any difference ? " 
 
 " Perhaps it would, if I cared for him and was 
 sure he cared for me." 
 
 " The girl in this book thought she was sure of 
 both." 
 
 " Then I don't think what she did was unnatural. 
 Let me know when you have finished it. I would 
 like to read it." 
 
 " Take another case," continued Mabel, settling
 
 SUNSET 
 
 herself contentedly in her chair for a discussion on 
 love and matrimony. " Suppose you were very rich 
 and the man who loved you was very poor What's 
 the matter ? " 
 
 Constance had put down her cup with enough de- 
 cision to all but crack the saucer. " Nothing at all. 
 I was thinking of the case you mentioned." 
 
 " Oh ! I thought you had burned yourself," 
 replied Mabel, regarding her curiously. 
 
 Constance looked thoughtfully out to sea. This, 
 then, was the solution of the problem which had been 
 puzzling her for nearly a week. When he had asked 
 her to marry him, three years before, Daniel Everton 
 had been rich. He was now poor and their relative 
 positions were precisely those of Mabel's supposi- 
 tions case. There was scarcely any doubt of it. It 
 would explain his keeping away from her, and his 
 avoidance of a certain topic when they were alone 
 together. What other significance could his remain- 
 ing in the Philippines, after his discharge, have? 
 She felt confident that he was not a man to bury 
 himself for years on a remote tropical island for the 
 sake of making a little money, unless he had some very 
 especial need of it. No doubt he saw before him an 
 opportunity to make a fortune sufficiently great to 
 justify him in asking her to marry him. Of course he 
 
 287
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 was quixotic and foolish to allow his poverty to keep 
 him silent, but she could not help admiring his quix- 
 otism a little. It was in keeping with everything she 
 had observed in his character. 
 
 " Well ? " said Mabel, interrogatively, when Con- 
 stance had been silent for several minutes. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " What would you do, if a poor man fell in love 
 with you, and felt that he had no right to propose ? " 
 
 " Nothing; that I can think of now." 
 
 " Surely you wouldn't allow the difference in your 
 fortunes to keep you apart ? " 
 
 Constance avoided a direct answer to this ques- 
 tion. " Yours is an impossible case," she replied, 
 guardedly. " If he didn't propose, how could I 
 know that he cared for me ? " 
 
 " Oh, pshaw ! He'd contrive to let you know that, 
 without proposing." 
 
 " I don't agree with you. If he was the sort of 
 man to think that because of his poverty he couldn't 
 ask me to marry him, he would be too scrupulous to 
 betray the fact that he loved me." 
 
 " Do you think a man can love a girl and not be- 
 tray the fact?" 
 
 "Yes; I do." 
 
 " Well; I don't," declared Mabel, positively. 
 288
 
 SUNSET 
 
 " I don't think I should propose to him, in any 
 event," Constance continued, with a smile. 
 
 " You're not half as romantic as the girl in the 
 book." 
 
 " You shouldn't cite her case as an example. You 
 said that her husband fell in love with another 
 woman." 
 
 " That was her misfortune, not her fault, and it is 
 something which might have happened to any one." 
 
 " Possibly. But if it's going to happen, it would 
 be comforting to know that he did the proposing. 
 Don't you think so? What is the title of your 
 book? " 
 
 " It's called A Woman's Offer.' " 
 
 " Is it indeed ? Then I don't think I want to read 
 it." 
 
 " They say you should never judge a book by its 
 title." 
 
 " Yes ; but some titles are beyond the pale. That's 
 one of them." 
 
 " You are too critical. It must be awfully hard 
 to write good books." 
 
 " Naturally. It's hard to do anything well." 
 
 This observation was followed by a pause in 
 the conversation. A pause which Constance em- 
 ployed in forgetting entirely what the conversation 
 19 289
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 had been, and Mabel in munching her chocolates. 
 After a moment the latter observed : 
 
 " It's a pity we can't do with our lives as the novel- 
 ists do only live those parts which are interesting 
 and skip all that is commonplace. Put in a double 
 row of little stars in place of all the days when 
 nothing happens, except having to discharge the 
 cook, or to go and see some old relative you don't 
 care anything about." 
 
 Constance smiled. " I am afraid that if you did, 
 the habit would grow on you dreadfully, and you'd 
 miss a great many of the small happinesses of life. 
 You'd find everything commonplace after a while, 
 and your book, what there, was of it, would be all 
 asterisks. Where are you going ? " 
 
 Mabel had risen and picked up her novel. " After 
 my paint box," she replied, as she started for the 
 house. 
 
 Constance returned to her thoughts, which, for the 
 moment, kept her fully occupied. As she fixed her 
 eyes upon the distant outline of Corregidor, she 
 noticed a column of black smoke on the horizon to 
 the South. It arose from the water in a thin spiral, 
 which, as it mounted higher and higher in the still, 
 hot atmosphere, broadened out into a canopy of haze. 
 
 A tiny black speck at its base was all that was to be 
 
 290
 
 SUNSET 
 
 seen of the ship one of the little coastwise steamers 
 which ply between the many rich islands of the great, 
 unawakened archipelago. As she watched it, she re- 
 called the odd premonition she had had on that other 
 afternoon, when she and Mabel had witnessed the ar- 
 rival of the " Isla de Tablas." He had, it seemed, 
 been on the little craft, just as her inner voice had 
 said. She wondered whether she would have any 
 such warning before he came again. 
 
 While she was indulging in this harmless specula- 
 tion, and as tho to refute the theory of premoni- 
 tions, a firm step resounded on the walk behind her 
 and the voice that she had missed for a weary week 
 greeted her. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Miss Fairchild ! " 
 
 " I thought you had deserted us," she said, as she 
 gave him her hand. He looked remarkably hand- 
 some in his suit of snowy duck, and she noticed, with 
 a little feminine shock of pleasure, that the disguis- 
 ing brown beard was gone and that he wore only 
 the mustache with which she had been familiar in 
 the old days. 
 
 " I have been very busy," he murmured, apologet- 
 ically, dropping into the chair which Mabel had 
 vacated. " Your boy told me that I should find you 
 here." 
 
 291
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Yes. We Miss Cartwright will be back pres- 
 ently came out here to watch the sunset and to have 
 our tea. Can I give you some ? " 
 
 " No, thanks." 
 
 There was an awkward little silence. She wanted 
 to ask what he had been busy about, and he was 
 puzzled to know what to say to her. There were a 
 hundred things he might have said but they were all 
 of a forbidden character. He picked up her book 
 and opened it idly. 
 
 " What have you been doing of late ? " he in- 
 quired, keeping his eyes on the title page. 
 
 " Nothing very novel," she replied ; " a drive 
 every afternoon, and one dinner, on Wednesday, at 
 the palace. How delightfully un-American that 
 sounds, doesn't it a dinner at the palace ! " 
 
 " It does, indeed, and the man who lives there has 
 more power in these islands than most kings. To be 
 Military Governor of ten million people is no small 
 honor." 
 
 " And how about yourself ? " she asked, casually. 
 " How have you been passing the time ? " 
 
 He hesitated, embarrassed by the question. Then 
 he said, " I have been occupied with the business 
 which brought me to Manila." 
 
 " And what is that ? " she inquired, with an air of 
 292
 
 SUNSET 
 
 friendly interest which concealed what was, for her, 
 an intense curiosity. 
 
 " The machinery for our hacienda," he replied, 
 briefly. 
 
 She noted the plural pronoun. " I didn't know 
 that you had a hacienda. What do you mean by 
 ' our ' ? " 
 
 " I have an interest in one," he said, reflecting 
 that it was useless to attempt any concealment of his 
 business affairs with a view to hiding the fact of his 
 marriage. " It is on the island of !N"egros." 
 
 " Who owns the rest of it a native ? " 
 
 " No," he answered, quickly. " That is he has 
 native blood in his veins, but he's virtually a 
 Spaniard. His father was a Spanish officer." 
 
 " Tell me more about your hacienda," Constance 
 continued, after a short pause, whereupon he de- 
 scribed the hacienda in some detail and even went so 
 far as to refer, in terms of admiration, to Senor 
 Isidro. 
 
 " How long do you expect to remain out here ? " 
 she asked, when he had finished and they had been 
 silent some little time. 
 
 " I don't know," he replied, " for life, probably." 
 
 She glanced away from him and joined him in his 
 
 inspection of some noisy, native fishermen, who were 
 
 293
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 dragging their nets on the beach below. " How 
 about all the rest of it ? " she inquired, at length. 
 
 "All the rest of what?" 
 
 " Of life. You have told me how you propose to 
 make a fortune, but that's not all there is to be con- 
 sidered." 
 
 " No ? " he inquired, pulling his hat down over his 
 eyes to shade them from the red glare of the sun, 
 which had begun to drop rapidly. " What else is 
 there?" 
 
 She regarded him once more; this time, curiously. 
 The man who had loved her three years before and 
 whom she had since learned to love, would have 
 deemed such a question superfluous. " The better 
 part of your mind, of course," she said, with a slight 
 accent of impatience. She liked to have him 
 respond quickly to her flashes of thought, and felt dis- 
 appointed when he failed to do so. " And occupa- 
 tion for it. Surely you must realize that the life of 
 a tropical sugar planter means stagnation ? " 
 
 " Need it, necessarily ? Why can't a man keep 
 abreast of things out here as well as at home ? Are 
 not most of the men we know there absorbed in some 
 one business? What does it matter whether it is 
 work on a Pacific island or work in Wall Street, so 
 long as it is work ? " 
 
 294
 
 SUNSET 
 
 
 " Yes, but but this is work for nothing but 
 money ? " 
 
 " That's what most of the work in the world is 
 done for, isn't it ? " 
 
 She might have answered that she had not thought 
 him like most of the men in the world, but she kept 
 this opinion to herself. " A man can have a higher \ 
 destiny than to spend his life among Filipinos, even 
 tho he makes money by doing so. What is money 
 worth, if life has to be spent in a country like this ? " \ 
 
 He repeated her question to himself in the bitter- 
 ness of his spirit. What, indeed, was money worth ? 
 For the paltry sum of thirty thousand dollars he had 
 sold all the hope of a life's happiness sold the high- 
 est right and privilege of man, to stand by the side of 
 the woman he loves and plead his cause. 
 
 " I think," she continued, with a touch of embar- 
 rassment, " that very often men attach too much im- 
 portance to money, and to the necessity of having it. 
 It isn't everything." 
 
 He made an impatient gesture of protest. " God 
 knows I care nothing about money for its own sake !" 
 he exclaimed passionately. Then he checked him- 
 self and went on more calmly : " But the want of it 
 can make all the difference in life sometimes, 
 
 and " 
 
 295
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 He broke off suddenly and turned to look once 
 more at the sea. The expression of protest passed 
 from his face and it took on its habitual resignation. 
 She watched the change creep over it and marveled 
 at his self control. She felt instinctively that she 
 had touched upon a great passion, which for some 
 reason he meant to keep down, and she admired the 
 way in which he was succeeding. 
 
 It was a strong face, and had in it the story of 
 suffering without complaint. Endurance had been 
 written upon it in a hundred fine little lines, which 
 she saw now for the first time as the soft light of the 
 sun fell upon them. Morally, as physically, the 
 ability to bear without protest makes the strongest 
 type of men. An Indian becomes a Brave by bear- 
 ing tortures unprotestingly. There are Braves 
 among the whiter races as well, and they gain admit- 
 tance to the brotherhood in no easier way. 
 
 A partial realization of this came to Constance as 
 she looked at him, and her love, which was very great 
 indeed, took on the most complete form that the love 
 of woman can assume, the desire to reward. 
 Thoughts of his physical bravery, of his wound, his 
 sickness and his poverty, crowded close upon her and 
 she knew how gladly she would reward him for it 
 all, if he would but speak. She was beginning to 
 
 206
 
 SUNSET 
 
 think that quixotism could be carried to an extreme 
 and become a nuisance. 
 
 " A man," she said, slowly, tracing with her fore- 
 finger the title of the book, which he had impatiently 
 tossed aside, " makes a great mistake who takes 
 money into consideration when when happiness is 
 involved." She paused and actually trembled at her 
 own audacity. She was leaning forward a little now 
 and waited anxiously for his reply. If, after that re- 
 mark, he chose to adhere to his quixotic notions, she 
 could do nothing more. 
 
 " You can't lay down any set rules about things," 
 he said, uneasily. " A man can only judge accord- 
 ing to his lights, and if he makes a mistake abide 
 by it." 
 
 She gave a little sigh which, inconsistent as it may 
 seem, was half of relief. She had done with the per- 
 sonal, or to be strictly accurate, with the general, 
 which is but a thin disguise to the personal, and a 
 long silence fell upon them. 
 
 The sun sank lower and lower. " I sometimes 
 think," she said dreamily, as the red disk was touch- 
 ing the sea to the northward of where the great, wild 
 island of Mindoro lies, " that the end of the day out 
 here is like the end of life for a soldier who dies in 
 battle. It goes out in such a blaze of glory." 
 
 297
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 He glanced almost moodily at the splendors of the 
 West. " A soldier's life doesn't go out like that/' 
 he replied. " Most of them die afterwards, in field 
 hospitals, and there isn't much of the blaze of glory 
 about them. It's just fever and pain until the end 
 comes. When a man is badly wounded the glory 
 part of the business is at a discount." 
 
 Corregidor was taking on the same violet coloring 
 that the Panay mountains had worn on those many 
 evenings, when he had strolled away from the 
 laughter and the coarse jests of his comrades that he 
 might be alone. He recalled the evening when the 
 ludicrous incident of Benita and the shirt had 
 occurred, and traced the course of events from that 
 time onward. He saw now the strange fatality 
 which had been in that meeting. He would be back 
 there soon. Through life those violet mountains 
 would be the prison walls, which would shut him in 
 with the bitterness of his sacrifice, and bar him from 
 the world of life and love outside. 
 
 298
 
 Chapter XIX 
 SERGEANT CASSIDY MAKES A DISCOVERY 
 
 E'S half fool," said Cassidy, scornfully, " an' 
 th' half av him that isn't a fool, is ginerally 
 dhrunk. Taken togither, th' two halves av 
 him is hell t' git on wid. Gawd knows what ud be- 
 coom av us, if th' town was to be attacked." 
 
 He was referring to no less a personage than 
 Major Crompton, who had appeared upon the scene 
 two months before, and taken Taylor's place in com- 
 mand of the detachment at Silay. The Major was 
 an old man, and knew he had but three years more 
 to serve. So, after making a survey of the situation 
 and forming a pretty true estimate of the opportu- 
 nities for distinction, or amusement, afforded by his 
 new detail, he had sought refuge and oblivion in 
 drink. At the very moment when Cassidy was giv- 
 ing his estimate of the Major's character in the terse 
 words which are given above, that officer was snoring 
 heavily in his quarters. And that moment was high 
 noon. 
 
 299
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " De down isn't goin' to pe addacted," replied 
 Redder, consolingly. " Hi, Telarama ! Two more 
 peers ! " 
 
 Senor de la Rama had stepped out of the little cafe 
 for the moment, and the muchacho who sat dozing 
 behind the counter made no sign of having heard. 
 Cassidy took a moldy cracker from the table at which 
 the two men were sitting, and threw it at him. As it 
 struck the native on the shoulder he opened his eyes, 
 wearily. 
 
 " Duo cervays, machoch, an' git a move on you," 
 said Cassidy, reaching for the dice box. " I'll shake 
 wid you t' see who pays," he explained. 
 
 Redder blew a dense cloud of fragrant blue-white 
 smoke into the air and thoughtfully watched it rise 
 to the ceiling. He had won ten dollars from the 
 recruit the day before, and always had money saved 
 from pay day. Furthermore, he was a man with no 
 family ties. " I'll dreet," he said magnanimously. 
 
 " Oi'll not interfere wid you thin. Here's how ! " 
 
 " How ! " grunted Redder, burying his blond 
 mustache in the foam of the beer. Both men drank 
 long and deep and then Cassidy put down his glass 
 and said : 
 
 " What'll be th' outcome av ut? " 
 
 " De oudgome of whad ? " 
 800
 
 SERGEANT C 'ASS IDT MAKES A DISCOVERY 
 
 " Av this state av affairs. What'll happen t' th' 
 Major?" 
 
 "Nodding. N"opody's goin' to rebord 'im. He 
 can trink hisself to teth, I zuppose." 
 
 " Let's hope he does, thin, before he drinks hisself 
 before a gineral court-martial." 
 
 " Dey nef er gort-martials officers for trunken- 
 ness," replied Redder. 
 
 "They don't, eh? Well, Oi tell you they do. 
 Whin the'r' drunk on juty like this wan is, most av 
 th' toime." 
 
 " He doesn't ged trunk on dooty. He fills ub 
 effenins." 
 
 " Don't you believe it," retorted Cassidy, nodding 
 his head, significantly. " He's dhrunk now. Oi 
 tuk th' mornin' report up, after mountin' th' guard. 
 ' Oi'll take it,' sez th' Lootinint. ' The Major isn't 
 f eelin' well.' " 
 
 Sergeant Redder took a little deeper respiration 
 than was his wont, which was his usual method of 
 preparing himself to ask a question. With him, ask- 
 ing questions was an effort only justified by a high 
 degree of professional interest. " Vy didn't de 
 Loodenent sign it ? " he inquired at length. 
 
 " He dassn't," said Cassidy. " It wouldn't do. 
 Oi'm sorry fer that young man. When th' Major's 
 
 801
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 dhrunk, lie has t' go ahead an' do th' best he knows 
 how, an' whin th' ol' man coomes around, he gives 
 him hell fer havin' done ut widout authority. He's 
 havin' a hard loife these days, an' no mistake." 
 
 " I'd dake his chob," said Redder. " I'd like to 
 pe an officer." 
 
 " You don't know enough," replied Cassidy, 
 frankly. " An officer in th' rigular army av th' 
 United States is th' finest thing it's possible fer anny 
 man to be." 
 
 " How aboud bein' Bresident ? " 
 
 Cassidy was somewhat staggered at this, but 
 rallied quickly. " That's th' same thing. He's th' 
 Commander-in-Chief av th' army." 
 
 Redder regarded him stupidly. The German, 
 while he excelled in his knowledge of regulations 
 and drill, as far as the company was concerned, had 
 never had the additional energy necessary to inform 
 himself as to the higher departments of his profes- 
 sion. 
 
 " How can he gommand de army ? He don'd 
 know noding aboud id." 
 
 Cassidy shrugged his shoulders. " He don't have 
 to know annything about it. Th' higher up you git 
 th' less they do know about ut. Wan av th' new 
 
 brigadeer-ginerals is a dhocter and wan is a cavalry 
 
 302
 
 SERGEANT CASSIDT MAKES A DISCOVERT 
 
 first lootinint; wan is th' son av an ex-rebel, an' 
 another's th' son av his pa." 
 
 " If ve should have a gread var, vat would ve do 
 mit men like dose f er de chenerals ? " 
 
 " Wait until your big war coomes along, an' you'll 
 find out. We'll lick 'em, that's what we'll do." 
 
 Redder shook his head ominously and once more 
 raised his glass. " A cheneral ought to pe a soldier, 
 an' an oldt von," he observed. 
 
 " Most av our ginerals are, and thim as ain't will 
 be before your great war coomes. Besides, we don't 
 need ginerals. Our company officers, lift t' thim- 
 selves, can lick annything anny European power can 
 turn out. You Dutchman, you. The ginerals can 
 stay at home and write their autobeeograyphys." 
 
 "De'rvot?" 
 
 " Their autobeeograyphys. Th' stories av the'r 
 lives, in plain Dootch. Have some more beer ? " 
 
 " Zertainly." 
 
 There was a pause in the conversation, during 
 which their glasses were refilled, and Cassidy lit a big 
 cigar. Redder was turning something over in his 
 mind. When the Irishman had been smoking in 
 contented silence for several minutes, the German 
 said significantly : " I vas a vitness pef ore a cheneral 
 
 gort-martial vonce, at de drial of an officer." 
 
 303
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Cassidy looked at him in surprise. " What uv 
 it?" 
 
 " Zimply dis. If it comes to a guesdion between 
 dos dwo," indicating the officers' quarters with his 
 pipe-stem, " you an' me knows vacts dot's all." 
 
 Cassidy nodded. " We do that," he replied, " an' 
 what's more, your humble servint has made careful 
 notes av th' dates an' other things." 
 
 Redder grunted, as an expression of the mutual 
 understanding which had been arrived at, and the 
 two fell silent once more. With them, conversation 
 had covered twelve years, with short interruptions, 
 and did not have to be continuous. Besides, they 
 had consumed just enough beer to render suffi- 
 cient, a contemplative enjoyment of their tobacco. 
 Directly, a voice broke in upon their respective rev- 
 eries, and a familiar, lanky figure appeared in the 
 doorway. 
 
 " Hello, boys ! What ah you all a-doin' ; drinkin' 
 beer?" 
 
 " Yis," replied Cassidy. " Have some? " 
 
 The man from Tennessee shook his head. " Ah 
 promised mah ole mothah on her dyin' bed that Ah 
 wouldn't never drink," he replied, taking a plug of 
 tobacco from the hip pocket of his khaki trousers 
 
 and biting off a liberal chew. 
 
 304
 
 SERGEANT C 'ASS IDT MAKES A DISCOVERT 
 
 " Oi admire you fer sthickin' to it, thin," observed 
 Cassidy. " Moi mother was tuk off suddint, widout 
 havin' toime t' lave anny insthructions behindt. 
 What she'd have done if she'd had a lingerin' illness, 
 Oi don't know. What made your mother so down on 
 th' dhrink, may I ask? " 
 
 " She allus said as how it war the cause of mah 
 father's death." 
 
 " Deleerium treemuns ? " inquired Cassidy, sym- 
 pathetically. 
 
 " Nope. Pap didn't drink much hisself . He had 
 a little still up in the backwoods, whar Ah come 
 from. He war hung fer killin' a revenue officer." 
 
 " Oh ! " said the Irishman. For once in his life 
 he had no comment to make, and the conversation 
 lagged. 
 
 The day was very hot and still. From his vantage 
 point in the doorway the Tennesseean could see a 
 woman's figure far down the white, blazing highway. 
 She was the only human being in sight and on her 
 head she bore a large basket. 
 
 " Ah have just come from the officers' quartans," 
 remarked the Tennesseean. " The Lootenant is 
 tryin' to sober the ole man up, Ah reckon. The 
 Majah war cussin' powahful strong about some- 
 thin'." 
 
 20 305
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " It's about his toime," said Cassidy, contemptu- 
 ously. " He ginerally comes around about dinner 
 toime." 
 
 " It's a damn shame, that's what it is. Ah think 
 it's remahkable the way the Lootenant puts up with 
 it. The ole man talks to him like he war an enlisted 
 man; worser than last company commander talked to 
 the men." 
 
 " It's certainly remarkable," observed Cassidy, 
 " the way that Lootinint has tumbled t' his job. He's 
 learned more soldierin' in wan year than Redder, 
 here, has in twilve." 
 
 The German continued to smoke placidly, ignor- 
 ing the good-humored comparison. " Ah think he 
 knows more about it now than the Majah," said the 
 Tennesseean. 
 
 The woman with the basket had been steadily ap- 
 proaching, and as he finished speaking the soldier 
 glanced up and recognized her. " Hello, Benita ! " 
 he exclaimed, in greeting. 
 
 " Buenas tarde," replied Benita Llopis, lowering 
 the basket to the ground. She had not changed any 
 in the year that had passed, having already attained 
 so great a degree of the ugliness of extreme age that 
 a twelvemonth more or less did not matter. 
 
 " How's me old swateheart ? " demanded Cassidy, 
 306
 
 SERGEANT C ASS IDT MAKES A DISCOVERT 
 
 with a grimace which was intended to be affectionate. 
 " Come in an' Oi'll buy you a dhrink av bino." 
 
 She shook her head, having understood the last 
 word and gathering from it his hospitable intention. 
 " No quiero." 
 
 " What kin we do f er you ? " the Irishman con- 
 tinued. 
 
 She shook her head once more, whereupon Cassidy 
 rendered the question into execrable Spanish, much 
 to the admiration of Redder and the Tennesseean, 
 neither of whom were scholars. 
 
 Benita drew a note from her breast and handed it 
 to him. Cassidy took it and scrutinized the outside 
 of the envelope which bore no address and was some- 
 what soiled. " Where did you get it ? " he inquired, 
 in Spanish. She pretended not to understand. 
 
 " It's a love letter, mebbe," suggested the Tennes- 
 seean, humorously. " Eead it." 
 
 " What does it say ? " demanded Benita, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Oi'll see," said Cassidy, tearing it open. A 
 letter dropped out, written in a fine hand with many 
 flourishes. " Raymimber, that Oi'm not much on 
 your Spanish spellin'," he explained to his com- 
 panions as he picked it up. 
 
 He did not read the letter, for as he unfolded it, 
 307
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 his eye fell upon two words on the first page. They 
 were " inemegos " and " Americanos/' and as he 
 read them he gave a low whistle. 
 
 He rose abruptly. " Come with me," he said) im- 
 peratively to Benita. She picked up her basket and, 
 without explanation to his companions, Cassidy led 
 the way toward the center of the Plaza. When they 
 were out of hearing he stopped her and inquired, 
 " Where did you get this ? " 
 
 " You are his friend," she said, dramatically, 
 " and I appeal to you. I cannot read. I love him 
 as a son and " 
 
 " Stop," said the Irishman. " Go slow. Who 
 are you talking about ? " 
 
 She glanced nervously over her bony shoulder. 
 Then, seeing that they were alone, she continued, 
 lowering her voice to a whisper, " It was given to me 
 by Jose this morning, to give to her. I want to know 
 what is in it ? " 
 
 "Who is 'her'?" 
 
 " Senora Everton." 
 
 " The devil ! " said Cassidy, in English. 
 
 "What did you say?" 
 
 " I asked you what Jose gave it to you." 
 
 " Jose Mispall." 
 
 " Oh ! " he exclaimed, and opening the letter once 
 308
 
 SERGEANT CASSIDT MAKES A DISCOVERT 
 
 more he began to read slowly, lingering over some 
 words and skipping hastily over whole paragraphs 
 which he saw were of an endearing nature. After a 
 time he was able to make a very fair translation of 
 the epistle, which ran as follows : 
 " My Poor Neglected Darling : 
 
 " My heart yearns for you in sympathy with your 
 solitude and loneliness. It swells with a fierce, in- 
 dignant protest at the thought of the neglect of 
 which you are the victim ; you, the most beautiful of 
 women, the most unfortunate of wives! Were it 
 not that I see for you in the near future a lifting of 
 the cloud veil, which is shrouding your young life, 
 I would despair, your plight would bear me down. 
 
 " Courage ! But trust to me, but believe in the 
 greatness of my love for you, and all will be well. 
 Our people are arousing, slowly but surely. The 
 hate of the conquerors grows daily and hourly more 
 intense, more fierce. We are waging a great fight 
 against a powerful nation, and some say that the 
 cause is hopeless. But I ask you, not as the woman I 
 love, but as the most reasonable of women, can we 
 lose if we persist? Already the American people 
 are weary of the struggle. There is a large political 
 party which favors the glorious cause of our national 
 
 independence. We are a nation of millions of brave 
 
 809
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 men, who need but to realize their splendid future to 
 arise and throw off the yoke which has been about 
 their necks for centuries. We will yet place in the 
 field an army of four hundred thousand brave 
 patriots and then what think you? Will our en- 
 emies, the Americanos, match us with an equal 
 force ? No ! Our friends in the United States will 
 be aroused in our behalf and the American forces 
 will withdraw. 
 
 " And then ? Then I shall be a general in the 
 army of the Republic. Not three months ago I was 
 in honored conference with our great chief, Emilio 
 Aguinaldo. He said to me, as I was leaving him, 
 ' Senor, such patriots as you make one's heart 
 warm. When our great day comes ; when we are in 
 possession of this great country of which we are the 
 rightful sovereigns; when we have expelled these en- 
 emies; remember that you have a friend in Agui- 
 naldo. You shall be a general, if you will, and per- 
 haps the Governor of your beautiful island. I 
 salute her patriots through you ! ' 
 
 " I kissed his hand, and I, a strong man, wept. Ah, 
 my adored one ! My queen of the tropic isle, we both 
 love ! Of what use is all the worldly honor which 
 will come to me, unless you, whom I love, can share 
 it? What care I for the sword of a general? I 
 
 310
 
 SERGEANT CASSIDT MAKES A DISCOVERT 
 
 want you you. I worship you. With every beat 
 of my heart, I adore you. 
 
 " If I may say it, what a contrast will my devotion 
 be to the coldness of this foreigner to whom you, my 
 poor misguided darling, have allowed your life to be 
 joined. I do not wish to make your burden greater, 
 but I feel that I must tell you that he is guilty of a 
 worse wrong toward you than neglect. I write 
 what I could not breathe to you, if I looked in your 
 pure, trusting face." 
 
 Here followed an imaginary account of an in- 
 trigue which Everton was carrying on in Manila, 
 together with half a page devoted to the expression 
 of Jose's outraged feelings on the subject. He then 
 resumed : 
 
 " To be true to such a man is to be false to your- 
 self. Your allegiance should go with your love, and 
 that, you have assured me, is mine. 
 
 " I am going shortly to join a small company of 
 our country's soldiers, to share their fortunes in the 
 field, until such time as we shall be ruling in the 
 cities and hunting the Americanos in the mountains. 
 Within a month all arrangements for my leaving will 
 be completed, and then then you must come to me 
 to share my lot. I fear to send this through the mail 
 as I am under suspicion. It goes by the faithful 
 
 311
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Benita, to whom I have been kind for years, and who 
 is wholly devoted to me, and to you. Trust her in 
 all things. She will share our short exile. I will 
 write again through her, and tell you when, and 
 where, to join me. Courage in the hour of flight ! 
 
 " At the thought that you will be mine, my love all 
 but bursts its bounds. My darling ! How happy we 
 shall be together ! " 
 
 The remainder of the interesting epistle was in the 
 same strain as the last lines given, and Cassidy did 
 not trouble himself to read it. He folded up the 
 letter and put it in his pocket. 
 
 " Th' writer av this," he said, reflectively, to him- 
 self, " should hav* been an Irishman. If Oi'd his 
 gift av gab, Oi'd be a lootinint-gineral in th' army av 
 th' exiled, perhaps." 
 
 Benita gave an exclamation of impatience. 
 " What is it? What does he say? " 
 
 " More than I can tell you quick," replied Cas- 
 sidy. " It's a love letter." 
 
 The old woman stamped her foot at this, and called 
 Mercedes by a name which cannot be recorded on 
 these pages. 
 
 The soldier regarded her humorously. " Well, 
 perhaps she is," he admitted, " but that's not the 
 
 question of importance," he added to himself. " The 
 
 312
 
 SERGEANT CASSIDT MAKES A DISCOVERY 
 
 main thing is how t' git ahold av that small company 
 av noblemiu what'll be ginerals an' governors av 
 islands if we can't arrange t' make corpses av thim 
 instid. Benita ! " 
 
 "Si?" 
 
 " You are a fine woman, Benita." She grinned 
 coyly, and lowered her head with a languishing 
 glance. " Come with me." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " To the Teniente, or the Commandante." 
 
 " Is that best ? " 
 
 " Yes. This is more than a love letter. Jose is 
 an insurgent." 
 
 " Will they kill him ? " she demanded, drawing 
 back. 
 
 " No. You know very well that they won't, un- 
 less in battle, an' you won't find him there. He's 
 more of a correspondent than he is a soldier. We 
 must act together, you and I, on behalf of Senor 
 Everton. He is our friend." 
 
 She was apparently satisfied with this, and without 
 further protest followed Cassidy across the Plaza 
 to the quarters occupied by Major Crompton and the 
 Second Lieutenant. 
 
 ' 
 
 " Yes," said the Second Lieutenant. " There is 
 313
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 but one thing to do, and that is to let her get this 
 letter and then wait for the next one. We could 
 arrest Mispall, but it wouldn't do any good if we 
 did. The General would turn him loose again. 
 What we want is to get our hands on that band of 
 insurgents." 
 
 He was addressing Cassidy, who stood before him, 
 with Benita a little in the rear. From the adjoining 
 room the sound of heavy breathing indicated the con- 
 dition of the Commanding Officer of Silay. 
 
 " The only snag, so far as I can see," continued the 
 young officer, " is what he " indicating the next 
 room with a jerk of his head " will do when he 
 wakes up and finds that I have acted without con- 
 sulting him." 
 
 In the weeks that had passed since Major Cromp- 
 ton had assumed command of the Silay detachment, 
 the Second Lieutenant and Cassidy had many times 
 been obliged to consult together as to the discharge 
 of the Major's duties, which usually devolved upon 
 the subordinate between the hours of midnight and 
 three o'clock in the afternoon. In this way certain 
 facts had come to be recognized between them, al- 
 tho they were never spoken of openly. 
 
 Cassidy advanced a step nearer and lowered his 
 
 voice. " Beggin' th' Lootinint's pardon, but it 
 
 314
 
 SERGEANT C ASS IDT MAKES A DISCOVERT 
 
 wouldn't do t' consult him. He'd send out an' arrest 
 Mispall, th' way he did old Eamus last week, an' spoil 
 th' hull bizniz. When he ahem wakes up, it'll 
 probably be all right, an' if it isn't, sorr," the Irish- 
 man hesitated for an instant and then went on boldly, 
 " you just inform him that you acted on your bist 
 joodgmint, whilst he was incapacitated fer jooty. 
 Ivry man in th' company'll be behind you, sorr. He 
 won't dare say a word." 
 
 The Second Lieutenant sat buried in thought for 
 a moment. Then he said, " Yes. It's the only 
 thing to be done. I've made a true copy of the 
 letter, and if he wants to arrest Mispall, that will be 
 evidence enough. Benita ! " he added, dropping 
 into his fluent Spanish. 
 
 The old woman advanced. He placed the letter 
 in a fresh envelope, as like the old one as possible, 
 and handed it to her. " Give this to the Senora 
 Everton," he said, " and let no one know that we 
 have seen it. Bring me all the others that are given 
 to you, and be as friendly to Jose as possible." 
 
 "Si, Senorito," she replied, taking the note. 
 " Adios." 
 
 " Adios." 
 
 She turned and left the room, shuffling down the 
 
 stairs in her straw slippers. 
 
 315
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " It looks as tho the war wasn't all over yet, 
 Sergeant," said the Second Lieutenant, his eyes 
 sparkling. 
 
 " No, sorr; not for tin years yet. Is that all fer 
 now, sorr ? " 
 
 The officer nodded and Cassidy saluted and with- 
 drew. As he followed Benita across the Plaza a 
 moment later, he muttered to himself, " Let's hope t' 
 Gawd that if there is a foight, th' ole Major will hav' 
 his usual jag on an' stay home, so that th' Lootinint 
 
 can git th' credit." 
 
 816
 
 Chapter XX 
 
 BENITA TAKES A HAND 
 
 FEW days after Everton had departed for 
 Manila, to await there the arrival of the ma- 
 chinery which they had ordered from the 
 United States, Senor Isidro succumbed to an obsti- 
 nate attack of rheumatism which confined him to 
 his bed. 
 
 In a few weeks, many things can happen. In this 
 time, Jose Mispall had become a frequent visitor at 
 the hacienda and had spent many hours alone with 
 Mercedes. Had the shrewd old father been well 
 enough to be about, it is probable that he might 
 have seen, in the changed manner of his daughter, 
 something to excite his suspicions and show him that 
 the man's presence in the house was becoming some- 
 what of a disturbing element. Senora Paris was not 
 one to observe. She knew, of course, that Jose was 
 frequently alone with Mercedes, but after marriage, 
 things are permitted which would not be dreamed of 
 
 before. It was not love which prompted Jose to 
 
 317
 
 DANIEL EFERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 make advances to the young girl. He had come to 
 the conclusion that if he could induce Mercedes to 
 elope with him to the mountains, he would be in a 
 position to dictate terms to her father. He would 
 retire permanently from patriotism, which had not 
 proved a paying business, and live on what he could 
 make out of Senor Isidro. The plan was simplicity 
 itself. All that had to be done was to persuade 
 Mercedes, and Mispall had not found that difficult. 
 Prominent among Malay characteristics are pas- 
 sion, treachery and vanity. An ethnological student 
 might write a volume on the race, and not describe 
 them as aptly as does Mr. Kipling when he calls them 
 " half devil and half child." Through her vanity 
 and passion and jealousy, Mercedes was persuaded to 
 do things which set at naught the carefully laid plans 
 of her far-seeing parent. With her, the " child " 
 was largely predominant. Mispall had begun by 
 making insinuations and false representations con- 
 cerning Everton and his motives in marrying her, and 
 what the native described as his desertion of her so 
 soon after marriage. She was of a jealous tempera- 
 ment and his innuendos had fallen upon fruitful soil. 
 Then he had grown bolder, until at last he had 
 reached the stage of violent love making. From that 
 time on, it had been easy sailing. 
 
 318
 
 BENITA TAKES A HAND 
 
 Late on the afternoon of the day when Benita had 
 gone, in her perplexity, to consult Cassidy as to the 
 advisability of delivering Mispall's note, Mercedes 
 was reposing on the big balcony of the hacienda man- 
 sion. She was looking out over her father's and hus- 
 band's broad acres, with something very like a scowl 
 on her pretty face, which had of late worn an ex- 
 pression in which there was as much of a spoiled, 
 fretful child as there was of the jealous, revengeful 
 woman. If Everton could have seen her at that 
 moment, he would have been shocked at the change 
 which had come over her. Just as a face which is 
 plain during childhood, can become almost beautiful 
 with the awakening of a noble soul, so one which is 
 placidly fair in a state of undevelopment, can lose 
 its fairness at maturity through the agency of un- 
 restrained wilfulness and passion. 
 
 As the moments dragged on, this sullen look be- 
 came more marked, until at last she arose and began 
 impatiently to pace up and down the veranda, keeping 
 her eyes fixed upon the Silay highway. At last she 
 espied Benita walking leisurely along, and her face 
 lightened somewhat. She paused at that end of the 
 veranda which was nearest to the road, and watched 
 the old woman. 
 
 When she chose, Benita Llopis could be leisurely 
 319
 
 DANIEL ETERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 in her movements, and she did choose to be so on this 
 occasion. She even stopped altogether, once or 
 twice, to gossip with the wives of the hacienda labor- 
 ers. At last she drew near and, looking up espied 
 Mercedes. She placed her fingers on her thin, 
 cracked lips with an air of great secrecy. If there 
 was anything which Benita loved, it was an intrigue. 
 To be the central figure in a plot involving the Amer- 
 ican officers and Seiior Everton's pretty wife, was a 
 situation which gave her a keen sense of her own im- 
 portance. Cassidy had tried to impress upon her the 
 fact that the best way to be of service to Everton 
 was to expose his wife's infidelity, and had succeeded 
 so well that she was prepared to assist at an immedi- 
 ate elopement. 
 
 " Come up here ! " called Mercedes, impatiently. 
 
 Benita entered the house and a moment later 
 joined her on the balcony. 
 
 " You have a letter from him ? " inquired the girl, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Hush not so loud," replied Benita, in a whisper, 
 glancing over her shoulder with a fine affectation of 
 alarm. " Yes ! " 
 
 " Give it to me." 
 
 " Do you love him ?" inquired the old woman, with- 
 out moving. 
 
 320
 
 BENITA TAKES A HAND 
 
 " Ah, yes. You know I do. Give it to me, dear 
 Benita." 
 
 " And you will take me with you, when you go ? " 
 
 " Go where what do you mean ? " demanded Mer- 
 cedes suspiciously. 
 
 Benita saw that she had made a slip, and hastened 
 to set it right. " Of course," she said, insinuatingly, 
 " you will go with him, before the other returns." 
 
 " Give me the note." 
 
 Benita handed it to her and watched her nervously 
 as she broke the seal and began to read. Then the 
 old woman breathed a sigh of relief. Mercedes had 
 no suspicion that it had been tampered with. 
 
 " What does he say ? " asked the servant, inno- 
 cently, when Mercedes had finished. 
 
 " You know very well I can't tell you," replied the 
 girl, with a blush. She had grown beautiful again 
 for the moment, for she was thinking of the man she 
 loved and not of the one against whom she fancied 
 she had a grievance. 
 
 " If you want help, let me know." 
 
 " Yes, surely. I can trust you ? " 
 
 " I worked thirty years for Jose. I have held him 
 in my arms when he was so long " Benita measured 
 off about fourteen inches of her thin, brown arm. 
 
 " If you have any letter to send back," she added, as 
 21 321
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 she turned toward the door, " you had best give it to 
 me. It is safer." 
 
 Mercedes nodded and began once more to read her 
 letter. As Benita reached the threshold of the door, 
 she paused. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, " I forgot." 
 
 " What ? " asked Mercedes. 
 
 " Here is another letter. Your mother told me to 
 give it you. I don't suppose it is of any importance," 
 she explained, as she handed the girl an envelope 
 which bore the Manila postmark. 
 
 Mercedes took it and glanced contemptuously at 
 the superscription. Then she raised her eyes to 
 Benita's. " He has been away," she said, plaintively, 
 " for five weeks, and this is but the second letter he 
 has sent me." She tore open the envelope hurriedly. 
 " Look ! " she cried, holding up the letter. " One 
 page to me, his wife ! " 
 
 Benita shrugged her shoulders. This was her 
 favorite gesture, and each time she used it there ap- 
 peared to be grave danger that her peona waist would 
 fall from her shoulders to her feet, there being no 
 hips to arrest it, once it escaped detention by the bony 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Husbands are different," she said shortly. 
 
 " Ah, yes ; it's too true." 
 322
 
 BEN IT A TAKES A HAND 
 
 " Jose may be your husband some day," observed 
 Benita, looking out across the corn fields. 
 
 " He is different," replied the other happily, turn- 
 ing to her husband's letter. She read it, and then, 
 rising once more, walked rapidly up and down the 
 veranda. Then she began to upbraid the writer in 
 tones of passionate reproach. 
 
 " He treats me," she cried, " as a child. I, his 
 wife, a woman eighteen years old. What did he 
 marry me for? He never loved me, and he didn't 
 even know how to pretend that he did! Is he 
 superior to me, because he is an American, one of a 
 race of cowards ? Two months after our marriage he 
 leaves me business, paugh ! Do you imagine that 
 Jose would leave me to attend to any business so soon 
 after our marriage ? Why couldn't I have married 
 him, instead of a stranger who spends his days in the 
 fields and most of his nights smoking with my father. 
 If my father needed him, why couldn't he have made 
 him his partner? Why need they have sacrificed 
 me, a woman with a soul ? I tell you it wasn't kind, 
 
 it wasn't fair, it " she broke down completely, 
 
 and sank sobbing into a chair. 
 
 Had Everton been ill, or wounded, Benita would 
 have nursed him and cared for him with a mother's 
 
 tenderness; but she had no compassion with this frail 
 
 323
 
 DANIEL E7ERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 creature of her own sex. On the other hand, she was 
 deterred by no moral scruples from aiding and 
 abetting her in her infidelity. She thought that if a 
 wife has it in her to be faithless, the sooner she 
 elopes with her lover the better for the husband at 
 any rate. 
 
 " You reason finely," she said. 
 
 Mercedes raised her head and looked at the old 
 woman with a half frightened glance. " Tell me," 
 she asked in a whisper, " is it very wrong to love as I 
 do, is it a sin ? " 
 
 Benita indicated with an expressive shrug that it 
 probably was not, and if it was it made no difference 
 anyway. " You will have to confess," she admitted. 
 
 The girl's face clouded, and she sat for some time 
 holding MispalPs letter tightly in her small hands. 
 Then she spoke again. " It would be more of a sin to 
 live with him again. He has not been true to me." 
 
 Once more Benita shruggeol her shoulders. She 
 was not sure but that the girl was expecting alto- 
 gether too much. 
 
 "Benita!" 
 
 "Si?" 
 
 " I have made up my mind," said Mercedes, pos- 
 itively. " I am not a child. I will no longer be 
 treated as one." 
 
 324
 
 BENITA TAKES A HAND 
 
 And in this she was right. The days when she was 
 to be guarded and cherished as little children are, 
 were drawing to an end. But whether she was to 
 benefit by the change from childhood to womanhood 
 the hour did not disclose. Like many wiser men and 
 women, who have placed the conclusions of their own 
 fine reason against the dogmatic, God-given laws of 
 right and wrong, she had yet to learn what happiness 
 
 or pain might lie in her emancipation. 
 
 325
 
 Chapter XXI 
 COLONEL CARTWRIGHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 
 
 |RS. CARTWRIGHT inclined her head to 
 one side and surveyed the table with in- 
 tense satisfaction. " Well," she ex- 
 claimed. " I don't think there's anything the matter 
 with that, all things being considered. Now, I'll 
 just place the dinner cards and then " 
 
 " Why don't you let the servant do those things, 
 Laura ? " inquired her husband, who stood in the 
 doorway, looking very spruce and military in his 
 white duck uniform, on which the insignia of his rank 
 glittered in the light of the table candles. 
 
 " Because, Colonel Cartwright, I've no desire to sit 
 in anyone's lap, or have the cards served as a course 
 after the soup, or take any such chances. I know 
 these natives better than you do." 
 
 Her husband advanced and stood beside her. 
 " We're doing a lot of entertaining, it seems to me," 
 he said. " I'm afraid that we're going it beyond our 
 means. Don't you think so ? You know I told you 
 
 326
 
 CARTWRIGHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 
 
 that we ought to try to lay up a little, each year, for 
 Mabel's sake." 
 
 " All this," replied his wife, indicating the table 
 with its array of linen and wine glasses, "is in the 
 nature of an investment. Do you recollect the con- 
 versation you and I had some six weeks ago, relative 
 to Mabel and," she glanced over her shoulder to make 
 sure that they were alone, " and Mr. Humphrey ? " 
 
 The Colonel's features relaxed into something 
 which was about half way between a smile and a grin. 
 " Perfectly," he said. 
 
 " Well ; it's all but accomplished, and if you leave 
 things alone a while longer," she hesitated, searching 
 for words in which to express a delicate fact, 
 " Mabel's future will be arranged for." 
 
 The Colonel crossed to the window and looked out. 
 " Have you said anything to her ? " he inquired, after 
 a moment spent in gnawing the end of his white mus- 
 tache. 
 
 " Only in a general way. I have explained to her 
 how she would be situated if you and I were to die." 
 
 "What did she say?" 
 
 " Nothing especially ; but I could see that it set 
 her to thinking. I fancy she likes him." 
 
 " It seems devilish cold-blooded." 
 
 Mrs. Cartwright was exasperated. " Why so, in 
 827
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 Heaven's name ? " she demanded. " What are we 
 doing that every parent ought not to do? Really, 
 Laurence, you try my patience. One would think 
 we were leading the girl out to auction! We're 
 simply giving her the advantages of a little social 
 life ; she's never had enough to hurt her, poor child. 
 If Mr. Humphrey likes her and there is no objection 
 to him, why not invite him to the house occasionally ? 
 The mistake I made was in saying anything to you 
 about it." 
 
 " Your arguments are certainly plausible," ad- 
 mitted her husband. " She needn't accept him, if 
 she doesn't want to, need she ? You haven't coerced 
 her in any way, have you ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. I have just had one or two sen- 
 sible talks with her. If, after that, she would rather 
 keep a boarding house or give lessons in painting, 
 than to be the wife of a nice young officer with a 
 future before him, it will be her own lookout. We 
 will have done all of our duty, at any rate." 
 
 " You'd better go and dress for dinner," said the 
 Colonel, looking at his watch. She left the room and 
 he returned to the hall, where he stood by the win- 
 dow, looking down into the garden and ruminating 
 upon the thoughts suggested by his wife. 
 
 He wondered whether it might not be possible that 
 328
 
 CARTWR1GHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 
 
 there was something in this idea of Mabel's marrying, 
 after all. Her marriage would change many things. 
 Of late, he had become pretty well disgusted with 
 his prospects. He had been passed over again and 
 again by younger men, some of whom had been 
 youngsters under him, and who were half his age but 
 possessed of twice his influence. He had attained 
 the age when he could retire at any time, and the only 
 reason he had not done so before was the additional 
 pay of the active list. As long as things were in this 
 unsatisfactory state, he had felt that he ought not to 
 forego that. But with Mabel's future assured by 
 marriage, the prospect would be different. He and 
 Mrs. Cartwright could travel, if they wished. He 
 drew a long breath and wondered how it would seem 
 to be free to come and go. On the whole, he con- 
 cluded, Humphrey was a very nice young fellow. 
 
 " Good evening, Colonel ! " 
 
 The senior turned and exchanged a cordial hand- 
 clasp with the very young man who had been in his 
 thoughts, and who, as it happened, was engrossing a 
 very large share of the thoughts of another member 
 of the household, at that moment, fastening a rose in 
 her hair and wondering if he would notice it. 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm a bit early, sir," explained Hum- 
 phrey. " The truth is, my watch caught cold when I 
 
 329
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 was swimniing the Pasig one night and has gone at 
 fever heat ever since." 
 
 "Punctuality is a great virtue in a soldier, my 
 boy," replied the Colonel, " and," he added, as 
 tho moved by a sudden inspiration, " should be re- 
 warded. Have a cocktail ? " 
 
 " Yes; thanks," replied the young man. 
 
 " Come into my little den," said the Colonel, lead- 
 ing the way to a small room off the hall, where he had 
 installed his writing desk, and which was his favorite 
 retreat. It commanded a view of the garden and the 
 bay, and in it he kept his best cigars and an old pipe 
 or two, which latter he was not allowed to enjoy at 
 large about the house. 
 
 " The others won't be here for ten minutes yet," 
 he said, as he mixed the appetizers, with a skill over 
 which the subaltern smacked his lips. " Cosey little 
 place this," observed the latter, seating himself on 
 the table and puffing contentedly at his cigarette. He 
 was thinking that the Colonel was a fine old fellow; 
 a bit slow-going and unprogressive perhaps, but still 
 a devilish nice old chap. 
 
 " Yes ; I think so," assented the older man. " I 
 believe in having one room in the house where you 
 can do as you please." 
 
 "Freedom's a great thing," said Humphrey,
 
 CARTWR1GHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 
 
 thoughtfully, " but," he added with a slightly bored 
 air, " a man gets tired of it after he's knocked about 
 a bit begins to think he'd like to have a home and a 
 er family and all that. Don't you think so ? " 
 
 It was just as well that Mrs. Cartwright, who at 
 that moment was, with the assistance of Mabel and a 
 Filipino maid engaged in the process of " hooking 
 up," did not hear the reply of her spouse to this 
 query. Indeed, it is as well that wives in general are 
 not blessed with the gift of hearing everything their 
 worse halves say, when away from them. 
 
 " Matrimony's a bad thing for a soldier," replied 
 the Colonel. " Complicates official matters remark- 
 ably sometimes. The best thing to be in the army 
 is an agreeable bachelor, with sense enough not to 
 pay too much attention to any one woman. If you're 
 that, all you need is a friend in the Senate and your 
 fortune's made." 
 
 " I can't believe that, sir," protested the young 
 man, stoutly. " The best success in the world is won 
 by individual merit, and I think that " he flushed a 
 little as he hesitated " a man does better work with 
 the right woman. Don't you think so ? " 
 
 " Depends on what you mean by the best success," 
 said the Colonel, ambiguously. Humphrey was not 
 listening. It is one of the characteristics of the early 
 
 831
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 twenties to ask for older men's opinions, and then go 
 off into day-dreams while they are being given. " Do 
 you think we will be out here long, Colonel ? " he 
 asked, suddenly. 
 
 " In the Philippines ? Yes, I imagine so. Pretty 
 lonely work it'll be too. You youngsters will have 
 years of it, no doubt." 
 
 " Do you think the war will last as long as that ? " 
 asked the subaltern, in some dismay. 
 
 The veteran of four wars sniffed contemptuously. 
 " War ? This is no war. There will be fighting 
 from time to time for ten years yet. The war is 
 over, but the necessity for having troops here, isn't. 
 It will mean garrison and police duty mostly." 
 
 " All the more reason for having a wife, I should 
 think." 
 
 " Good Lord, no ! You don't know what women 
 are, my boy. Do you think a woman would be con- 
 tent at Dagupan, or in Mindanao ? If you happened 
 to be stationed in Manila it would be well enough, 
 but you won't be. The places where a young officer 
 has the best opportunities professionally are the 
 places where it's the least possible for a woman to 
 live." When it came to the expression of his honest 
 opinion, the Colonel was swayed by no motives of 
 diplomacy ; deterred by no recollections of the weeks 
 
 333
 
 CARTWRIGHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 
 
 which Mrs. Cartwright had spent over her little 
 scheme. In fact, the honest soldier had already for- 
 gotten the matter. 
 
 The subaltern shook his head. " A soldier has a 
 right to his home life, I think. Needs it too, more 
 than most men." This opinion was of recent origin 
 in his mind. He had been, heretofore, as strong in 
 his sarcastic denunciation of the holy estate of matri- 
 mony as most young men. He had passed the time 
 when the logic of the Colonel's position could appeal 
 to him, and, after a pause, continued, gloomily, " It's 
 a hard life the life of a soldier. It seems a lot to 
 ask of a woman that she should share it." 
 
 The Colonel adhered to the outspoken airing of his 
 views. " I don't know about that. You'll find any 
 number of women ready to share it, when the time 
 comes. Don't worry over that." 
 
 Mr. Humphrey was not really worrying over it. 
 The speech had been in the nature of a rehearsal. 
 He meant to use it again with Mabel, later on; to 
 show her how unselfishly able he was to consider her 
 welfare. Men are prone to sneer at what they term 
 " feminine logic." It's a singular example of a 
 man's ; this waiting until he has done his best to teach 
 a woman to care for him, and has asked her to marry 
 him, before explaining to her how perfectly he under- 
 
 833
 
 D4NIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 stands the many reasons there are for her not 
 doing so. 
 
 The young man shook his head sadly. " It's not 
 plenty of women a man wants, it's the one." 
 
 The Colonel glanced at him quickly. There was 
 something in the cavalry warrior's tone, which car- 
 ried a meaning. What might have followed if they 
 had not been interrupted is purely a matter of con- 
 jecture. They were interrupted. 
 
 By the time the whole of the party had assembled, 
 Theopilo such was the name of the head table boy 
 had announced dinner, with a sweeping bow, no 
 less than seven times, very much to Mrs. Cartwright's 
 chagrin. At the rehearsal that afternoon she had 
 endeavored to impress upon his slow working mind, 
 by dint of constant repetition, that he was to an- 
 nounce the meal when the last of the guests had 
 come. The result had been hopeless confusion. 
 Left to himself the boy would have worked out his 
 own salvation; as it was, he became hopelessly con- 
 fused and concluded that the safest plan was to make 
 his announcement after the arrival of each new 
 guest. 
 
 " That makes the seventh time," said Constance, 
 laughing and holding out her hand to Everton, the 
 last to arrive. " I suppose he's afraid that if we 
 
 334
 
 CARTWRIGHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 
 
 don't sit down immediately, the cook will steal the 
 dinner." 
 
 " Let us spare him any further anxiety then," said 
 the Colonel, giving his arm to Mrs. Merrill, the wife 
 of an infantry major, and leading the way to the 
 dining room. 
 
 To Mr. Marcy was allotted the young and rather 
 pretty wife of a navy paymaster; while, needless to 
 say, Humphrey, whose step was even more elastic 
 than the recent cocktail justified, bore in Mabel. 
 Everton took Constance, while Taylor took Mrs. Cart- 
 wright. The newly-promoted captain felt a little 
 shade of regret, and wondered whether his two bars 
 were not costing him rather dearly. While dressing 
 for dinner he had noticed how liberal the sprinkling 
 of grizzled hair was becoming, and how thin it had 
 all grown about the temples. Then he dismissed the 
 thought as he had learned to dismiss regrets in his 
 life, and made himself just as agreeable to Mrs. Cart- 
 wright as he would have done to Constance, had he 
 been more fortunate. Charlie Howard, being an 
 extra man, sauntered in by himself, which, by the 
 way, was typical of his journey through life. In 
 arranging the dinner, the hostess had had but one 
 especial end in view putting Mabel next to Mr. 
 Humphrey. Beyond that she was anxious to please 
 
 335
 
 DANIEL ETERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 everyone, having always a due regard to rank, the 
 importance of which she never forgot. She suc- 
 ceeded as well as possible, in view of the fact that 
 there were three men in the party who were in love 
 with the same woman. 
 
 " I've been admiring your decorations, Mrs. Cart- 
 wright," said the wife of the navy paymaster. 
 " Where did you get your roses ? I didn't know 
 there were any to be had in Manila." 
 
 " Nor did I," replied her hostess, " until they ar- 
 rived anonymously, for Constance. She should be 
 the one to explain." 
 
 " I have no explanation to offer," said Constance. 
 
 " Not even a conjecture, Miss Fairchild ? " in- 
 quired Howard, tasting his sherry. 
 
 " Not even a conjecture. There was no card with 
 them." 
 
 " It's usually the flowers which come without a 
 card which require the explanations," observed Mrs. 
 Merrill, playfully, as she began with her soup and 
 noticed the unmistakable flavor of the canned article. 
 
 " That rule might apply in the States," said Ever- 
 ton, " but I fancy a card is quite as much of a rarity 
 in these lands as a La France rose." 
 
 " Or a beautiful girl to send it to," added the cav- 
 alry warrior, gallantly. Constance blushed slightly 
 
 336
 
 CARTWRIGHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 
 
 and smiled. Mabel felt just a tinge of a feeling 
 which was new and by no means pleasant. It was 
 not of long duration, for the next instant Humphrey 
 turned to her and spoke in an undertone. 
 
 " I've got the girl, but I didn't have the gumption 
 to send the flowers. Where do you suppose they 
 come from, and which of the three sent them ? " 
 Humphrey had not been so engrossed with his own 
 affair as to remain totally ignorant of what had been 
 going on about him. 
 
 Mrs. Merrill broke a piece of bread and waited 
 until a small red ant had issued forth upon the table- 
 cloth before raising it to her lips. " I didn't know 
 that there were any roses here," she remarked to the 
 Colonel, by way of starting the conversation. 
 
 " They came on ice from Hongkong," explained 
 Mr. Marcy, unable to keep his secret in the face of 
 so much speculation. 
 
 Constance moved one of her wine glasses the frac- 
 tion of an inch, and a little shadow of disappoint- 
 ment crossed her face. Then she raised her eyes and 
 thanked the Englishman quietly. 
 
 " I'm awfully fond of flowers," observed Hum- 
 phrey, " Aren't you Ma Miss Cartwright ? " He 
 was quick to check the utterance of Mabel's Chris- 
 tian name, but not so quick that Mrs. Cartwright did 
 22 337
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 not hear him. She shot a rapid glance at her hus- 
 band, who did not return it, being engrossed with his 
 dinner and Mrs. Merrill. On the whole, Mrs. Cart- 
 wright reflected, happily, there was no cause to 
 regret the money which had gone into the cham- 
 pagne. Mrs. Merrill raised to her lips her glass of 
 the carefully iced beverage and wondered how the 
 Cartwrights managed to entertain like this on their 
 income. 
 
 Like all affairs which rehearse badly and discour- 
 age their managers, the dinner went off remarkably 
 well. Theopilo arose grandly to the occasion and, 
 aside from naming each dish with a grin as he passed 
 it, was guilty of no serious blunders. Everyone ap- 
 peared to be enjoying the evening, and Charlie 
 Howard went so far as to become involved in a flirta- 
 tion with the wife of the paymaster; a flirtation in 
 which she met him more than half way. 
 
 " If I had known that I could get flowers sent here 
 from Hongkong," said Humphrey, " I would have 
 sent you some." 
 
 " You must not do anything of the sort," protested 
 Mabel. " How frightfully extravagant." 
 
 " Can't a fellow be extravagant once in his life ? " 
 he whispered impressively, gazing down at her. She 
 was looking remarkably well in her evening gown
 
 CARTWRIGHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 
 
 of white, which showed to advantage her really 
 beautiful neck and arms. Mrs. Cartwright, who was 
 not blind either to her offspring's beauties or de- 
 fects, glanced at her once or twice during the evening 
 and made up her motherly mind that it was now or 
 never. Certainly Mabel had never looked so well 
 before. There is something which imparts a beauty 
 to the plainest women; it had come to her that night. 
 
 She made no reply to his question, which did not 
 require one. She was making a little calculation. 
 If he had graduated from the Military Academy the 
 year before, he must be between twenty-one and 
 twenty-six, and she was forced to admit to herself that 
 he looked nearer the former than the latter age. 
 
 " Do you think they will send you away from 
 Manila again soon ? " she asked, by way of starting 
 him out of an awkward silence. 
 
 " Great Scott ! I hope not," he replied dismally. 
 Then he remembered Dagupan, and thought how dif- 
 ferent it would be under certain circumstances, if she 
 were there too. The Colonel was a nice old chap but 
 he didn't know everything. " I'm ready to go where 
 they send me," he added stoutly, drinking a glass of 
 champagne to fortify himself in this military frame 
 of mind. 
 
 "Yes; of course you are," said Mabel. He
 
 D4NIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 glanced at her sideways, taking in his bright new 
 shoulder straps, on which gleamed the single bar. 
 " I do hope this dreadful war will be over soon," she 
 added. 
 
 " War is the soldier's opportunity," observed the 
 cavalryman, who had not been a soldier long enough 
 to get over a certain thrill which the very mention of 
 the word " soldier " sent through his healthy young 
 frame. " I hope for a great war some day," he con- 
 tinued magnificently. 
 
 " Oh, no ! Don't say that ! " protested Mabel, 
 with a vague alarm in her eyes, which she raised to 
 his. She had really learned to care for him in these 
 last weeks. Partly because she thought he cared for 
 her and partly because she felt the need of loving 
 some one with a love different from that she gave to 
 her father and mother. 
 
 Just then there fell upon the company one of those 
 sudden silences which do fall upon parties, as tho 
 in obedience to some generally recognized signal. In 
 it the wife of the paymaster was heard to remark 
 sadly : " Too often, Mr. Howard, men marry women 
 whom they can't in the least understand." 
 
 Howard looked extremely foolish and glanced 
 anxiously at Constance to see if she had heard. Ap- 
 parently she had not, for she was speaking in an 
 
 340
 
 undertone to Everton. Then he looked at Taylor 
 and that officer had the effrontery to wink at him. 
 The conversation began briskly once more, and the 
 reply of the special correspondent to the spouse of 
 the absent mariner, was heard by her ears alone. 
 
 "It's just six weeks to-day," said Constance, "since 
 we met you out by the old fort at Malate. How 
 time flies." 
 
 " It does, indeed," Everton agreed gloomily. " I 
 have just received a cable from Hongkong. The 
 machinery for our mills has arrived and I shall go up 
 on the next steamer." 
 
 Constance made no reply. During the weeks 
 which had elapsed since that afternoon when he had 
 spoken to her of his hacienda, his manner had 
 puzzled her continually. 
 
 There had been things in it which made her be- 
 lieve that his love remained unshaken; moments 
 when she would look up suddenly to find him regard- 
 ing her with a look which was certainly that of a 
 lover; tones which crept into his voice, in spite of the 
 sincere and honest efforts he made to keep them out 
 of it, and certain gentle, little attentions, from his 
 manner of doing which she had inferred that he had 
 not been in the habit of doing them for other women. 
 
 Indeed, there were a hundred little signs which indi- 
 
 841
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 cated that he still loved her, and yet, altho they 
 had been together almost every day, he had spoken 
 no words other than those of a friend. And, woman 
 like, the longer he remained silent, the more anxious 
 she became to have him speak. 
 
 " Will you return to Negros, after that ? " she in- 
 quired. 
 
 He hesitated, knowing very well that he ought to 
 go directly from Hongkong with his machinery. 
 Then he reflected that he could as well go south by 
 way of Manila. "No" he said, "I think I shall 
 return here." 
 
 " Yes ? I hope so," she said simply, and turned to 
 listen to an anecdote which Mr. Marcy was relating. 
 
 The conversation of Constance and Everton had 
 not been, of late, of a character calculated to interest 
 them or others. A man can go just so far in his 
 love affair with a woman, without having to be per- 
 sonal. They can talk of books or politics or golf or 
 any other of the themes of ordinary conversation, 
 according to their taste. But the time comes after 
 awhile when the personal rebels and demands to be 
 heard; demands to become the chief topic of con- 
 versation, as it has become the chief element in life. 
 If this demand is not acceded to, the conversation 
 suffers. It becomes strained and forced, and split 
 
 842
 
 CARTWR1GHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 
 
 up by long, awkward silences. This was exactly 
 what had happened to Everton and Constance, and 
 the past ten days had not been very happy ones for 
 either. 
 
 Dinner was over at last, at about ten o'clock, and 
 the moment for which Mrs. Cartwright had planned 
 had arrived. They had adjourned to the big hall 
 for coffee, and that matron discovered that she had 
 left her shawl in the summer-house out in the 
 garden. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed quite naturally, " Mabel ! " 
 
 " Yes, mother ? " replied Mabel, turning from the 
 window where she and Mr. Humphrey stood looking 
 at the moonlit sea. 
 
 "I left my shawl on the bench in the summer 
 house, just before dinner. I wish you'd go and fetch 
 it for me." 
 
 The Colonel overheard. " Let me go," he said, in- 
 nocently, putting down his coffee cup. 
 
 " You couldn't find it, Laurence. Whenever I 
 send you for anything of mine, you invariably get the 
 wrong one." 
 
 "I don't see how I could very well, in this in- 
 stance," he replied, genially, " inasmuch as I pre- 
 sume you only left one there." 
 
 It seemed to his wife that all the denseness and 
 843
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 stupidity of his life had become concentrated and 
 crowded into this one, well-meant, offer of his serv- 
 ices. She was about ready to cry with vexation 
 when, turning, she saw that the young people had 
 disappeared. 
 
 " Never mind, dear," she said sweetly. " Mabel 
 has gone for it." 
 
 The absence of the young pair was unnoticed by 
 all save Mrs. Cartwright, and, as the moments sped 
 by, and they did not return, she began to feel very 
 like a candidate on election night, when, after weeks 
 of talking himself hoarse, he leans back and awaits 
 the decision of the fates. At length, when more than 
 half an hour had passed, the Colonel observed sud- 
 denly : 
 
 " It seems to me that those young people are tak- 
 ing a long while to find your shawl." 
 
 The remark caused Mrs. Merrill to glance at the 
 clock. It was half past ten, and she had ordered her 
 carriage which was borrowed for the occasion for 
 ten. " Dear me ! How late it is ! " She advanced 
 and pecked Mrs. Cartwright's cheek. In the years 
 that were gone the two women had been stationed 
 together in a frontier Post. " The time has passed so 
 rapidly, my dear." 
 
 " Must you go? " inquired Mrs. Cartwright, 
 344
 
 CARTWRIGHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 
 
 sweetly. Humphrey and Mabel came up the stairs 
 carrying the shawl between them. 
 
 " Colonel Cartwright, sir, I'd like to speak to you," 
 said the cavalry warrior, when all of the other guests 
 had gone. 
 
 " Certainly, my boy," said the Colonel, in a tone of 
 mild surprise. " Suppose we have another cigar ? 
 It's early yet." 
 
 " We'll bid you good night, then," said Mrs. Cart- 
 wright, holding out her hand and noticing that the 
 rose was gone from Mabel's hair. 
 
 " Good night, Mrs. Cartwright " he took the 
 hand of each in turn, growing unaccountably red and 
 dropping his hat upon the floor during the ceremony. 
 
 " Good night, Miss Fairchild. Good night, Miss 
 Cartwright." There was a great dignity, and a dis- 
 tant formality in his tone as he spoke the last name, 
 a formality compared to which his manner of addres- 
 sing her mother had been frivolously intimate. 
 
 When the women had left the room there was an 
 awkward silence, during which the Colonel lit his 
 cigar and Humphrey made an unsuccessful attempt 
 to light his, ending by holding it in his hand, being 
 ashamed to ask for another match. 
 
 " You haven't bitten the end off," said the Colonel, 
 gravely interested. When this had been done, he 
 
 345
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 held out the match box again. In a moment the 
 young man was puffing nervously and wondering how 
 to begin. The silence became marked once more. 
 
 " Suppose we have a whisky ? " exclaimed the 
 Colonel, suddenly. " Ginger ale with it, eh ? Theo- 
 pilo!" 
 
 " Delighted ! " said the cavalryman. The Colonel 
 poured out two drinks, which were more than mas- 
 culine and less than excessive; " military " describes 
 them as aptly as a word can. They had adjourned to 
 the den, and when they had drank, the young man 
 summed up courage to begin. 
 
 Half an hour later he walked down Calle Eeal on 
 air and moonlight. Between his lips was one of the 
 Colonel's best cigars, and in his pocket was a La 
 France rose, which had come on ice from Hong- 
 kong. 
 
 The Colonel, as he sought the apartment which he 
 shared with his spouse, was calculating as to dates. 
 If the young people got married before long, he and 
 Mrs. Cartwright could go home, and get there in time 
 to see all the new plays. Later on, in the Winter, 
 they could go to Italy. He had never been abroad. 
 
 When he reached the room Mabel had been and 
 
 gone. There had been tears. She would have 
 
 346
 
 CARTWRIGHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 
 
 waited to see her father, but reflected that she would 
 be in time to see Humphrey walk down the street, if 
 she sought her own room, directly she heard their 
 voices in the hall. The atmosphere was still a trifle 
 damp and Mrs. Cartwright was doing something sus- 
 picious with a handkerchief. 
 
 " Well, Laura ! " 
 
 " Well, Laurence ? " 
 
 "She's told you?" 
 
 " Of course. I'm her mother." 
 
 He crossed to the dressing table and began to re- 
 move the eagles from his blouse. "It'll be just a 
 little lonely without her; don't you think so?" he 
 asked at length. 
 
 " I don't think I realized before just what the 
 army is," she said. " He's cavalry and you're artil- 
 lery. It means a total separation." 
 
 " Not so bad as that. I dare say it's all for the 
 best." 
 
 " She cares for him." 
 
 He made no reply. Now that it was actually 
 settled he began to think that possibly things might 
 be a little different when Mabel was gone. They 
 would be alone then, and they were no longer young. 
 He tried to picture to himself what the house would 
 be like with no Mabel; then he recalled what it had 
 
 347
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 been like before there had been any Mabel. In those 
 days there had not seemed to be the lack of anything, 
 as there was now. Why ? 
 
 In those days there had been a good deal of foolish- 
 ness love making. They were more sensible now, 
 and yet the void would be there. He glanced at his 
 wife, who was arranging some hairpins on her dress- 
 ing table and looking thoughtfully at the floor. There 
 had been something wrong somewhere, all these 
 years. He was convinced of that. It was her fault 
 too. She had been dictatorial and had not listened 
 to reason. Suddenly it occurred to him that in those 
 old days she had never been so. But then there had 
 been the lovemaking. Could it be possible that, 
 after all, common sense and reason were inferior to 
 foolishness, as guides to life ? It was absurd that it 
 should be so and yet he hadn't been able to reason 
 with her all these years. How would it do to try a 
 little foolishness again? 
 
 He crossed the room to where his wife sat and put 
 his hand on her shoulder. " Laura ! " 
 
 She looked up in surprise. There was something 
 in his manner which was new and yet not new, alto- 
 gether. " Well ? " she asked. 
 
 " She doesn't care for him as much as " he 
 hesitated an instant, as tho he thought that he was 
 
 848
 
 CARTWRIGHT TRIES AN EXPERIMENT 
 
 too old for " foolishness." Then he continued 
 boldly, " as I care for you, dear." 
 
 For the space of a moment she sat quite still. 
 Then, slowly a soft flush crept over her face and 
 neck; a flush which made her look as she had in the 
 old days, and set him to wondering if Time was not 
 a lie. Then she arose and put her arms about his 
 neck. 
 
 When he fell asleep that night, it was with the 
 knowledge that his experiment had been a success. 
 
 349
 
 Chapter XXH 
 
 NEWS FROM NEGROS 
 
 APTAIN TAYLOR had, upon his arrival in 
 
 Manila two months before, been assigned 
 to quarters in a somewhat dilapidated old 
 Spanish mansion in the district of Ermita. It was a 
 dwelling very much out of repair, and was like the 
 house on Calle Real in that it commanded the same 
 wide view of the bay and the distant shores of Cavite 
 and Corregidor. 
 
 Thither the four men had bent their steps on leav- 
 ing the Cartwrights. It was still early, from a mas- 
 culine point of view, and the night was just hot 
 enough to make a cold drink acceptable. 
 
 " Why didn't young Humphrey come away with 
 us ? " inquired Mr. Marcy, when they had chatted 
 awhile. 
 
 " He stayed behind to propose to Mabel," ex- 
 plained Howard, putting his feet on the window- 
 silL 
 
 350
 
 NEtTS FROM NEGROS 
 
 " Do you mean Miss Cartwright ? " inquired the 
 Englishman, rather distantly. " I was not aware 
 that he was devoted to her." 
 
 " Nor was I," said Howard, " until that little 
 episode of the shawl. I didn't notice that any one 
 kept Mrs. Merrill out in the moonlight for an hour, 
 hunting a shawl." 
 
 " They were not gone an hour really 2 " asked the 
 Englishman, in surprise. He had not known How- 
 ard long enough to make allowances for a little exag- 
 geration. 
 
 " I didn't time them," the American admitted. 
 
 " You're a nice one to talk," said Taylor, dryly. 
 " I noticed that you were not wasting any time with 
 that little navy woman what's her name 2 " 
 
 " Agnes." 
 
 The reply was greeted by a general laugh. How- 
 ard continued to puff contentedly at his cigar. " It's 
 a beautiful night," he remarked, placidly, watching 
 with interest the signals which were being flashed by 
 one of the big men-of-war in the harbor. 
 
 " Agnes what ? " inquired Everton. " Or didn't 
 it occur to you to ask her surname ? " 
 
 " Cragin. She's the wife of a paymaster on the 
 'Nevada.' Her husband's at Nagasaki with his 
 ship." 
 
 851
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Why the devil doesn't she join him, then ? " de- 
 manded Taylor, bluntly. " Nagasaki's preferable to 
 this hole, as a residence." 
 
 " Don't know, I am sure. Probably by the time 
 she got there he'd be off to Chemulpoo. That's how 
 it is in the navy." 
 
 " Matrimony isn't always a thing to be desired, 
 for a military man," was Mr. Marcy's comment. 
 
 " Nor for a civilian, either," added Taylor. " I 
 know as many happy marriages in the army as I do 
 out of it." 
 
 " Ideal life military life for a single man," con- 
 tinued Marcy. " I wish I'd gone into the service 
 when I was a youngster," he added. 
 
 " Determined to remain a bachelor ? " asked How- 
 ard, innocently. 
 
 Mr. Marcy glanced at him with suspicion. The 
 inference which was obvious to the others, had 
 escaped him. " I have formed no definite views on 
 the subject," he replied coldly. 
 
 " Well, I imagine that's equivalent to the same 
 thing. A man who has no definite views on matri- 
 mony generally remains single. I dare say young 
 Humphrey's chuck full of definite views by this time. 
 He probably knows more about it than the Colonel." 
 
 "If you're so sure about those f babes in the 
 352
 
 NEWS FROM NEGROS 
 
 woods/ Howard, we might as well drink their health, 
 and felicity, and all that," suggested Taylor. 
 
 " With all due respect to the bride that is to be," 
 observed Howard, when the health had been drunk, 
 " I don't see how any one could fall in love 
 with her when there's a beauty like Miss Fairchild 
 around." 
 
 No one replied to this observation. Then Taylor 
 said, rather flatly, that beauty was not the only thing 
 for which men married. 
 
 " Perhaps not," admitted Howard. " But what- 
 ever the other things are, I don't believe Miss Fair- 
 child is lacking in them." 
 
 " Miss Cartwright is not beautiful," admitted 
 Marcy, " but she's an extremely nice girl, and I think 
 Humphrey will be devilish lucky if he gets her. I'm 
 not so sure about her. He didn't appear to have an 
 idea in his head, when I was talking to him." 
 
 " When a man has been eight months in one of the 
 barrios up country, he's ready to marry his grand- 
 mother when he gets back to civilization. This is a 
 fine matrimonial market. Let's start an agency, 
 Taylor," Howard continued frivolously. 
 
 " I doubt if you could make it pay," said that 
 officer, yawning. 
 
 " He certainly isn't marrying her for her looks." 
 28 853
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " What would you marry for, Howard ? " inquired 
 Taylor, idly. 
 
 " Half a million," replied the correspondent, after 
 devoting a moment to consideration. " You men 
 needn't laugh," he continued, " I'd be as good to her 
 as any of you would to a girl you married. I don't 
 see why I should marry for love, anyhow. Love 
 never did anything for me, except to get me into hot 
 water once or twice." 
 
 " I couldn't imagine a man's marrying for money," 
 said Taylor. 
 
 " I should never have supposed, Howard, that you 
 were the sort of a man to have an ideal woman," said 
 Everton. 
 
 " Well, that's just where you are wrong then. I 
 have." 
 
 " Describe her," said Marcy, with interest. 
 
 " Well," said the correspondent, " I think that a 
 widow, who had been married about two years to a 
 man who beat and neglected her, but who, at the end 
 of that time, died and left her a million, would about 
 fill the bill. There's nothing like getting a woman 
 who has had one unsuccessful venture. She won't 
 expect so much the second time, and she'll be all 
 the more delighted when she gets a man that's good 
 
 to her." 
 
 354
 
 NEWS FROM NEGROS 
 
 " What is the million for ? " inquired Marcy, 
 densely. 
 
 " For Charlie Howard, of course," said the other, 
 regarding him in surprise. 
 
 " I don't know that I should care to have a woman 
 whom another man had been beating for two years," 
 said Taylor. 
 
 "Tastes differ," admitted Howard. "The taste 
 for a million is one of the very few which don't have 
 to be cultivated, however." 
 
 " I shouldn't know what to do with a million, if I 
 had it," said Taylor, thoughtfully. 
 
 "I'd guarantee to show you," replied Howard. 
 " You'd resign the first thing." 
 
 " Certainly not. I wouldn't give up my profession 
 for ten millions." 
 
 " Do you mean it, really ? " asked Marcy. " I 
 thought chaps usually resigned from the service when 
 they came into their property." 
 
 " Not with us, they don't. I couldn't exist out of 
 the army." 
 
 " I have no such sentiment about my profession," 
 said Howard frankly. " I'd stop poking my nose 
 into other people's business and writing ultimatums, 
 or things I know nothing about, to-morrow, if I had 
 
 money." 
 
 855
 
 D4NIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 " Well ; that's the way I feel about the army," said 
 Taylor, briefly. 
 
 " I must be off," exclaimed Marcy, looking at his 
 watch. 
 
 The men rose to their feet simultaneously. 
 " Don't go just yet," said Taylor to Everton. " I 
 have a letter from Negros which I thought you might 
 like to see. Have a fresh cigar to smoke on the way 
 home," he added, extending the box to the others who 
 were at the door. He followed them to the head of 
 the stairs and returned to find Everton sitting in the 
 window. 
 
 " Who is the letter from ? " 
 
 "From that second lieutenant, who joined us a 
 few days before you were wounded. You never saw 
 very much of him, did you? We will see what he 
 
 Everton mentally braced himself for that which he 
 felt was coming. Affairs were approaching a climax, 
 and for some reasons he was not sorry. He almost 
 wished, now, that he had told of his marriage at first. 
 These two months of sailing under false colors had 
 not been comfortable ones. 
 
 Taylor threw himself into a chair beside the table, 
 and opening the letter, which covered several finely 
 written sheets, began to read aloud. 
 
 356
 
 NEWS FROM NEGROS 
 
 " Hadn't you better read it to yourself first ? " sug- 
 gested Everton, interrupting him. " There might 
 be something private in it." 
 
 " I don't believe so," replied Taylor, simply. 
 " The kid and I have no secrets." Then he turned 
 to the letter and began once more : 
 
 " Dear Taylor : 
 
 " Since you left this God-forsaken stronghold, 
 things have gone from bad to worse. When I suc- 
 ceeded you in command, they went to the bad, and 
 now they've gone to the worse. Two weeks after 
 your departure, when I was just getting on swim- 
 mingly and learning how to command a Post, along 
 came a senior in the person of Major Crompton. As 
 criticism of one's superiors is forbidden by the Regu- 
 lations (I've been boning Regulations lately), I will 
 content myself with stating a few facts about the 
 Major. 
 
 " The night he arrived he revoked all of the stand- 
 ing orders which you left, and which I had main- 
 tained. He said he always liked to start like a new 
 broom with a clean sweep. He also declared that 
 he felt tired and would go to bed early. So he did, 
 at eight o'clock, after drinking pretty nearly a quart 
 of Scotch. Next morning I asked him about the 
 
 857
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 new orders. Mad ? You ought to have seen him ! 
 1 1 will let you know when I have any orders, sir ! ' 
 he yelled. ' What the devil is the service coining to 
 when second lieutenants talk about orders ! ' He got 
 drunk by four in the afternoon, and he's been drunk, 
 off and on, ever since. When he's full he talks about 
 himself, and how Sheridan helped him to win the 
 Civil War, and when he's sober, he gives me Hell for 
 nothing. If it wasn't for the satisfaction of being a 
 hero, I'd resign and get out. 
 
 "The worst of it is, that he spoils all chances of any 
 successful operations against the enemy. About two 
 weeks after he came, I tumbled to a peach of a 
 plot in which several of the so-called ' loyal ' citi- 
 zens of this burg were implicated. If it had been 
 properly managed we'd have bagged a hundred rifles. 
 I reported the facts to the Major, and what did he do ? 
 Sent out and arrested everybody that was in the con- 
 spiracy. Old Ramus came over to call on him and 
 gave him a lot of soft soap. Swore he was loyal and 
 all that. Before he got through telling what a good 
 American he was, the Major and he had finished off 
 a bottle of whisky between them. When the old 
 rebel left, the Major sent for me and gave me rats for 
 preferring charges against reputable citizens. He 
 read me a long lecture on the grave responsibilities of 
 
 358
 
 NEWS FROM NEGROS 
 
 a commission, and how careful I ought to be not to 
 bring ' groundless charges.' ' 
 
 " He seems to be having a hard time of it," said 
 Everton, as Taylor paused for breath. 
 
 " Yes, indeed; but it may all be the making of 
 him." 
 
 " By force of good example ? " inquired the other, 
 dryly, beginning to take some enjoyment out of his 
 cigar. If the young officer had written so far with- 
 out referring to the marriage, it was not unlikely that 
 he might omit doing so. In spite of his being pre- 
 pared for exposure, Everton instinctively fought for 
 delay. He was inconsistent in small things, as men, 
 who are strong in big ones, not infrequently are. 
 
 " !N"o," replied Taylor, " of course not by example. 
 But it isn't a bad thing, sometimes, for a youngster 
 to have a hard man over him. It forces him to do 
 everything so perfectly that the senior has no oppor- 
 tunity to find fault. It's a quick way to make him 
 learn." 
 
 " That's all right in theory," replied Everton. " I 
 don't believe in that sort of discipline myself. That 
 it's possible, is one of the lamentable things about the 
 military service." 
 
 "Perhaps you're right," admitted Taylor. "I 
 359
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 know I sometimes think that the hazing which goes 
 on at West Point is a bad thing for the army." 
 
 " How so ? I shouldn't think it would be of any 
 importance after the men graduate." 
 
 " Well ; it is in this respect. A man who tyrannizes 
 over lower class men at the Academy, will tyrannize 
 over enlisted men after he graduates." 
 
 " Hazing isn't tyranny," replied Everton. " But 
 go on with the letter." 
 
 " There's only a little more," said Taylor, con- 
 tinuing. 
 
 "There is no news of a social nature that I know of, 
 except that our friend Mispall is very devoted to the 
 wife of that man Everton " 
 
 Taylor stopped abruptly and glanced up in amaze- 
 ment. " What does he mean by that ? " Everton 
 made no reply. " Are you married ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The simple monosyllable was spoken quietly and 
 when he had spoken it the man at the window 
 knocked the ashes from his cigar and went on smok- 
 ing. There was a silence of a moment's duration. 
 Then Taylor spoke again. 
 
 " Kegularly married legally ? " 
 360
 
 NEWS FROM NEGROS 
 
 " Regularly and legally." 
 
 "God!" 
 
 The man at the table arose and began to pace 
 rapidly up and down the room. 
 
 It seemed to the one at the window that he was 
 more upset by the news than even its remarkable 
 character justified. 
 
 " To a native ? " 
 
 " To the daughter of Senor Paris." After four 
 months of married life, Mercedes was still to him 
 " the daughter of Senor Paris." 
 
 Taylor returned to his chair and sinking into it 
 buried his face in his hands. Everton regarded him 
 in amazement. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " he demanded, abruptly. 
 
 Taylor raised his head. " Matter ! Why, great 
 God, man, don't you know ? " He checked himself 
 suddenly. It was possible that Everton did not 
 know what he did ; having learned it at the cost of 
 many a heartache. His voice sank almost to a 
 whisper. " Is it possible that you don't know ? " he 
 repeated, speaking to himself, but audibly. 
 
 "Know what?" 
 
 Taylor paid no heed to the question. Instead, he 
 leaned back in his chair and knit his brows. He was 
 thinking deeply of one whom this knowledge would 
 
 361
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 crush. He never for one instant considered him- 
 self or the possibility, which would have occurred to 
 many men, that it might react in his own favor. 
 The thing was horrible. > It was worse than that. It 
 had in it the elements of a ludicrous farce a farce 
 in which the proudest and best of women was to be 
 crushed and humbled, ignominiously. This man to 
 whom she had given her love was married to a half- 
 caste. The humiliation of it all was abominable. 
 And he could do nothing, absolutely nothing ! Sud- 
 denly he realized how he would like to choke and 
 kill the fool at the window, the fool, and worse than 
 fool, whom until five minutes ago he had looked upon 
 as the luckiest man alive. But then, killing would 
 do no good. Was there nothing else? 
 
 " It must be a mistake/' he protested. " Some 
 beastly joke. You can't be married to a native, 
 Everton, you a gentleman ? " 
 
 Everton left the window with a gesture of impa- 
 tience. " It's quite true, Taylor, and there is no 
 joke about it. I I'll say good night now, and good- 
 by. I am going back to Negros." 
 
 He moved toward the door. Suddenly Taylor put 
 forth his hand and grasped him by the shoulder. 
 Everton raised his head and returned the other's 
 
 look. 
 
 362
 
 NEWS FROM NEGROS 
 
 For a moment they stood thus; Taylor reading 
 Everton's face and trying, through it, to read his 
 soul. This man had saved his life. He had made 
 the one woman in all the world love him. He had 
 been a gentleman always, and now he had given the 
 lie to everything in his character. " Why did you 
 do it ? " asked the soldier. 
 
 As Everton looked into his friend's stern eyes, he 
 recalled how, officer and man, they had shared so 
 many vigils together. It was hard, that in all the 
 world there should be no friend left, whose faith in 
 him was not to be broken. He felt suddenly a wish 
 that in going out of the life to which he belonged, 
 he might leave one behind, in that life, who under- 
 stood. " Taylor," he said, slowly. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Will you swear to me on your honor as a man 
 and a soldier never to breathe a word of it, if I tell 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Taylor, simply. " I swear it." 
 
 " Then I married for money; and I had to have 
 the money to save some one from conviction for a 
 crime." 
 
 Taylor did not speak at once, but something in 
 his face changed. " One who had a claim on you ? " 
 
 " The very highest claim, perhaps." 
 363
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 The grip on the shoulder loosened and, glancing 
 down, Everton saw that Taylor's hand was out- 
 stretched. Neither spoke as he took it, and when 
 their hands had been clasped for a long moment, 
 Everton quietly picked up his hat. 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 " Why didn't you come to me ? " said Taylor, in a 
 voice which had the note of tears in it. " I've got 
 a little property, and you could have had it all." 
 
 " The amount was thirty thousand dollars, and 
 I couldn't have taken yours, anyway." 
 
 " I haven't anything like that," Taylor admitted, 
 sadly. " But we might have done something, I wish 
 you had come to me." 
 
 " I'm the one to suffer, old man." Everton was 
 at the door. The other did not contradict him. 
 " I'm the one it hits, you know. I shan't be able to 
 associate with people, now that it's known," he flushed 
 and laughed nervously. " I'm glad," he went on, 
 " that it's only myself. It would be different, if I 
 had a mother or sisters." 
 
 " Yes ; it's good that it's only you," said the man 
 who knew. 
 
 The man who did not know, went down the stairs, 
 
 and out into the street. 
 
 364
 
 Chapter XXIII 
 CONSTANCE 
 
 OCO tiempo, Senor," explained Theopilo, 
 with a deep bow. 
 
 Everton nodded and turned toward the 
 window. The native withdrew, seeking those 
 domestic regions of the house wherein he was wont 
 to officiate as majordomo, and where he spent the re- 
 mainder of the morning in doing as little work, in 
 as much time, as possible. And very great feats of 
 laziness are possible to one whose Malay indolence 
 has been accentuated by a Spanish education. ' 
 
 It was only half past ten o'clock, and the man who 
 stood with his eyes fixed on the glassy surface of the 
 harbor, had come at a most unconventional hour. 
 News of a certain kind is noted for the rapidity with 
 which it travels, and he had laid no injunctions as to 
 secrecy upon Taylor, the previous night. 
 
 The morning was hot and still, and yet his hands 
 were cold. This was the only external sign he gave 
 
 of the despair which had settled upon him. In other 
 
 365
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 respects he, who had tried to school himself to bear 
 all things with the simple, unquestioning fortitude of 
 military discipline, was to outward appearance quite 
 as usual. 
 
 He was there to state a fact, because he preferred 
 that she learn it from him, rather than from another, 
 and when he had done so, he would go away. There 
 would be no explanation, of course. That was out 
 of the question. She would feel towards him as a 
 woman of refined sensibilities should, under such cir- 
 cumstances, and she would treat him with a civility 
 which would veil her contempt, at least until he was 
 out of her presence. Indeed, he had, during the 
 long watches of the night, lived through the scene 
 many times. He knew just what to say to her and 
 just what she would reply, and he believed that he 
 had more than discounted all the humiliation that 
 was to be his. 
 
 He was calm, with the composure of one who has 
 made up his mind to face injustice, and who, by 
 anticipation, has robbed it of its sting. And then, 
 just at the one moment of his life, when he stood 
 most in need of his composure and his self control, 
 they both deserted him. 
 
 Tired of his inspection of the ships which lay at 
 anchor in the bay, he left the window and ap- 
 
 366
 
 CONSTANCE 
 
 preached the big table in the center of the hall. On 
 it were scattered several books and papers, an empty 
 box which had once contained Mabel's chocolates, 
 and, on the side nearest to him, a woman's handker- 
 chief. 
 
 Constance Fairchild was one to impress upon the 
 inanimate objects which belonged to her, a distinct 
 personality, which was, as it were, an offshoot of her 
 own. He knew that the delicate little fabric was 
 hers, even before his eyes fell upon the fine em- 
 broidered monogram. It suggested all that was 
 womanly and soft and tender, all of the woman in 
 her, for which the man in him had yearned so hope- 
 lessly. Suddenly a strong realization of what her 
 love might have been to him, broke in upon his mind 
 through the barriers which his fortitude had erected. 
 In that one moment he realized, for the first time, all 
 the difference that there is between life with the One 
 Woman, and life without her. The primitive forces 
 of his nature, engrossed in a great love, rose up in 
 protest against the long denial. Unconsciously he 
 groaned aloud, and carried the handkerchief to his 
 lips. 
 
 It was soft and cool, and yielded no perfume but 
 the faint suggestion of fine linen. He closed his 
 
 eyes, that by shutting out the sight of all other things 
 
 367
 
 DANIEL EFERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 he might revel in the sense of intimacy with her. 
 Then he opened them to find hers fixed upon him 
 with the holiness and gravity of love. 
 
 She had entered during that moment when he had 
 been too engrossed with the flood of his emotion, 
 to heed her footstep. He raised his head quickly 
 and dropped his hands to his side, assuming almost the 
 position of " attention." For an instant neither 
 spoke. He had been taken completely by surprise 
 and had no words at his command. Before any 
 came to him she acted upon an impulse as strong and 
 irresistible as his own had been. Advancing a step 
 she stretched out her hand and spoke. 
 " Then you still care for me, Daniel ? " 
 There is that about the old Biblical names which 
 gives them a wonderful, quaint sweetness on the lips 
 of a woman who loves. A man never really hears 
 his Christian name until it is spoken for the first time 
 by the One Woman. As he heard his now, the 
 scales fell from his eyes, and he knew of that which 
 had been paramount in her life so long. With that 
 knowledge came the thought that this had been 
 brought about by his silence, and he believed that in 
 the gratification of a selfish desire, he had sacrificed 
 her. Gradually, as he saw it all, the color forsook 
 his face, leaving it ashen gray, and he felt the soul 
 
 368
 
 CONSTANCE 
 
 sickness of one who had done a great wrong, uninten- 
 tionally. Without thinking, he answered her. In- 
 deed, it seemed to him that there was but one answer 
 possible. Now that she had made her unconscious 
 confession, he could not crush her pride by saying 
 " No," and besides, it would be a lie. 
 
 " Yes," he said, slowly, in a voice which he 
 scarcely recognized, and which sounded strangely in 
 her ears. It was not the happy declaration of a 
 lover; it was more like the desperate confession of a 
 man driven to bay. She could see from his face that 
 he was suffering, as it is not given to men to suffer 
 for many hours in their lives. She forgot herself 
 utterly in a great desire to help him. 
 
 " What is it ? " she entreated, coming quite close 
 to him, and looking into his eyes with a look which 
 was part perplexity and anxious fear, but altogether 
 love. " What is it dear? I " 
 
 He roused himself and put out his hand implor- 
 ingly. " Stop, for God's sake ! " 
 
 She recoiled quickly and stood quite still, regard- 
 ing him with amazement. As she did so there crept 
 into her heart a strange, benumbing fear. He had 
 said that he loved her, and yet there was something 
 here, for which she was totally unprepared. In the 
 agonized face of the man before her, she saw no 
 24 369
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 happiness, such as she had thought to find there, 
 when she should tell him of her love. 
 
 " You must not go on," he continued, hoarsely. 
 " I had no right to tell you. I I meant to conceal 
 it always. There is something which you do not 
 know, something I must tell you. I see now that 
 that I should have done so before, but I " He 
 broke off suddenly, unable to continue, and turned 
 toward the window. 
 
 Without, the water was ablaze with the same 
 glassy surface, and the ships in the harbor looked 
 just as they had done a few minutes before; but 
 everything else in the world was changed. 
 
 It had seemed to him, when he had first entered 
 that room and looked out upon that scene, that there 
 was nothing to be added to his cup of bitterness. 
 He had felt that he was beyond the reach of any 
 additional pain. He realized his mistake now. The 
 burden had been heavy enough before, but it had 
 been upon his shoulders then. Now she was to bear 
 her share. He had perhaps deserved his. She had 
 done nothing to merit hers, and, if he read the pride 
 and love of her nature aright, it would crush her, as 
 it had never crushed him. 
 
 " Well ? " she said, quietly. " Why don't you go 
 
 on?" 
 
 370
 
 Well?" she said, quietly. 
 " Why don't yau go on? "
 
 CONSTANCE 
 
 He drew a deep inspiration, keeping his eyes fixed 
 upon the big, black, British cruiser, which lay the 
 farthest out of all the ships. 
 
 " I was married," he said, in a hard, dry voice 
 " I was married four months ago to the daughter 
 of Senor Paris, my business partner." 
 
 A thin veil of smoke began to rise from one of the 
 funnels of the big cruiser. He watched it float 
 astern and sink upon the water, for want of a breath 
 of air to carry it upwards. The distant shore-line of 
 Cavite was radiating heat, and Corregidor was dis- 
 solving and vanishing in a red haze. A little travel- 
 ing clock behind him began, suddenly, to tick. That 
 was the only sound. 
 
 He did not turn. A certain instinct of his being, 
 which was the instinct of a gentleman, told him not 
 to look at her. The clock ticked on and it seemed to 
 him that each tick represented a year of his life. He 
 grew old rapidly during that moment. At last, 
 when he could endure the silence no longer, he 
 turned. 
 
 She was standing with her back to him, one hand 
 resting on the table. " Why didn't you tell me of 
 this before ? " she added, quietly. The clock stopped 
 ticking once more. 
 
 Of all the questions she could have put to him, 
 371
 
 DANIEL EVERTQN, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 this was, perhaps, the most difficult to answer. After 
 pausing an instant for him to do so, she continued: 
 " It would have been kinder, if you had done so, I 
 think." 
 
 The very gentleness of the reproach wounded him 
 sorely. The dignity of it was what he might have 
 expected. After what she had said, she would make 
 no effort to recall the admission of love which she 
 had made to him, however bitterly she might re- 
 gret it. 
 
 " I did not know I had no idea that you would 
 ever care. I just wanted to be near you a little 
 longer to have one last bit of happiness. I " 
 
 "Stop!" 
 
 She turned and faced him steadily, with eyes from 
 which all the love had vanished. " Please remember 
 what you told me just now. After that after that, 
 any words of love from you can be nothing but an 
 insult." 
 
 The tone cut him far more than the words. The 
 contempt which he had anticipated was just begin- 
 ning to manifest itself. He did not intend to accept 
 this attitude without protest, however. The whole 
 situation was damnable enough without her think- 
 ing that he wished to speak to her as he had no right 
 to speak. 
 
 372
 
 CONSTANCE 
 
 " You are mistaken," he said, raising his head and 
 regarding her as fearlessly as she had him, for from 
 this imputation, at least, he could clear himself. 
 " You are mistaken. The love of no man, or of no 
 dog, for that matter, is an insult until it begins to 
 demand." 
 
 She turned away with a gesture of impatience, and 
 sank upon the big cane divan, clasping her hands and 
 looking steadily away from him towards the window. 
 Then she spoke again. 
 
 " I beg your pardon. I only intended to stop 
 you to prevent your saying that which I did not 
 wish to hear, that was all." 
 
 For a long time she sat thus, while he stood by the 
 table watching her. Neither realized how long it 
 was before she spoke again, for the thoughts which 
 crowded through the mind of each, were such as to 
 render them insensible to time. 
 
 She thought, first, of what he had just said and 
 her reply; then, of how she had waited so many 
 weeks to hear the very words to which she now re- 
 fused to listen. She smiled bitterly at this recollec- 
 tion. Already the work of disillusion had begun. 
 
 Of all the thoughts which came to him, one was 
 uppermost. This was the last time he should see 
 
 her. He regarded her steadily with the intensity 
 
 373
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 with which one stands by the side of a coffin and 
 stares at the features of the beloved dead. There 
 are many things which combine in a man's heart at 
 that moment, pain, protest, the struggle against fate, 
 and the refusal of the soul to believe that it is the 
 last time. All of these were in his heart at that 
 moment. 
 
 " If you cared for me, as you say you do," she 
 continued, after a while, " why did you do this 
 thing?" 
 
 She had considered well before putting the ques- 
 tion. At first the impulse had been to terminate 
 the interview and creep away to her own room, 
 where she could, perhaps, realize in time just what 
 this horror was. Then the same thought came to 
 her that had held him silent. She, too, realized 
 that it was the last time. She could not let him go 
 quite yet. Her love and faith had been too strong 
 for that. There must be some explanation of the 
 hideous contradiction of his professed love for one 
 woman and his marriage with another. 
 
 Again, he was silent, for he dare not trust himself 
 to speak lest, by so doing, he should undo all the good 
 if there was any good of his sacrifice. 
 
 " Was it," she continued, slowly, for, strange to 
 relate, her mind was working rapidly and with pain- 
 
 374
 
 CONSTANCE 
 
 fill clearness. " Was it to further your business in- 
 terests ? " 
 
 " Yes," he replied, almost eagerly, for it suddenly 
 occurred to him that the worse his act appeared to 
 her, the better it would be for her, in the end. If her 
 respect for him was killed, the love would not long 
 outlive it. It only made it a little harder for him, 
 and it might make all the difference in life to her. 
 If she knew the truth, or even as much of it as he 
 had told Taylor, she might go on loving to the end 
 of time. It seemed to him that a broken faith was 
 better for her than a hopeless" love. Certainly the 
 more contemptible he appeared, the better. " Yes," 
 he repeated, determined to put it as plainly as pos- 
 sible. " I married for money." 
 
 He succeeded better than he had thought, for the 
 quick look which passed over her face was one of 
 scorn. So this was the man she had loved ; the man 
 in whom she had had put her faith! She recalled 
 another, who had once professed love for her and 
 who had subsequently married a most inferior 
 woman, with money. She remembered the con- 
 tempt she had felt for him when she heard of it, and 
 now this was a much worse case. That man had 
 married a gentlewoman, a girl who was in every way 
 his social equal. This one had not that, surely! 
 
 875
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 And yet, " he is nearly all Spaniard. His father 
 was a Spanish officer." The words came back to 
 her with a horrible distinctness. Yes, it must be 
 true, this man had not even drawn the color line ! 
 
 " Your wife," she said, interrogatively, " is a 
 resident of the Philippines ? " 
 
 " Yes. She is a light mestiza. Her father took 
 me into partnership." When he made up his mind 
 to do a thing, Daniel Everton did it thoroughly. 
 
 She turned her face towards the window once more. 
 Again the little clock began to tick audibly. Ever- 
 ton picked up his hat. 
 
 " I will say good-by," he said, quietly. 
 
 The little clock had a monopoly of all the noise in 
 the room for awhile. It was a longer time than she 
 had thought, as she sat there, making no reply, and 
 giving no sign. Then she aroused herself and 
 turned. The little clock had ticked away four min- 
 utes. Everton was gone. 
 
 376
 
 Chapter XXIV 
 ON THE SLOPES OF CANALOAN 
 
 AR below, in the valley by the sea, there was 
 already a faint tinge of dawn, by the light of 
 which the hacienda laborers, waking, were 
 just able to distinguish a difference between the 
 greenish gloom of the sugar lands and the bluish 
 gloom of the sea; far above, on the very crest of the 
 hills, there was a flush spreading, a flush which told 
 of the sunrise back behind the mountains of Cebu. 
 But between, in the heavy forests which stretch 
 down the sides of Canaloan, the night was still of the 
 blackest and the life of the jungle was still asleep. 
 
 In this opaque darkness, at a point half-way be- 
 tween the last hacienda mill of the low country, and 
 the crest of the hills, a small detachment of soldiers 
 were halted, awaiting the dawn. Somewhere, on 
 their right, which was the south, they could hear the 
 faint roaring of the Bago River as it coursed through 
 
 a gorge; above them there was only the barking of 
 
 877
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 the tree lizards to make more intense the deep silence 
 of the tropic night. 
 
 By degrees, as the soft flush on the mountain-crest 
 deepened and spread downward, the waters of the 
 Bago came out of the darkness in a grayish, restless 
 foam, while above, the stars grew fainter. 
 
 Suddenly, there came a low melodious note from 
 the branches of a lofty tree which stood just by the 
 river's bank. It was a call, half mournful at first, 
 and then, as it echoed down the gorge, it rippled off 
 into a soft melody, more tender than the finest notes 
 of a flute. It was the jungle reveille. 
 
 In the adjoining tree, there was a brown mass of 
 something, from which there hung suspended several 
 long, dark tails. At the first note of the low, sweet 
 call, the mass stirred. A head was lifted and there 
 was a great chattering as the father monkey, being 
 in no hurry to arise, burrowed his way back into the 
 family mass. It was cold up there in the mountains, 
 and the family as a unit gives warmth. 
 
 But the stealthy approach of another day was not 
 to be denied. As the gray river and sky merged 
 into the warmer tints of sunrise, the call was 
 answered, far and wide, from a hundred feathered 
 throats. It was not all musical now. The discord- 
 ant voices had awakened as well as the others, and 
 
 378
 
 ON THE SLOPES OF CANALOAN 
 
 the shrill scream of a big, white cockatoo drowned 
 the softer notes of nature's trumpeter. 
 
 Then the air changed slowly. On the eastern 
 slopes of Negros, the sun was already shining 
 warmly and steadily; the warmth passed with the 
 light across the mountain tops and down into the 
 gorge beyond. As the damp chill left the air the 
 brown mass in the tree dissolved into four units. 
 The father swung himself from the tree, by arm and 
 tail, and landed on a great stone beside the clear 
 river. Just below him there was a little basin of 
 crystal, in which the waters curled slowly, slowly 
 around. The old monkey leaned over and drank, 
 regarding his reflection curiously. 
 
 The noises were many now. It was nature's 
 breakfast hour. The two little brown ones were tak- 
 ing their meal without stirring from the warm, snug 
 attitude in which they had passed the night. The 
 birds were flitting about in search of food, and high 
 up on the slopes of Canaloan a dozen wild caribou 
 came out into a clearing and began to graze. 
 
 To the north, on the hill where the soldiers were, 
 the dawn came more slowly. It was never more 
 than a dull twilight in there, even on the brightest 
 mid-days, and now, long before the first dull tinge 
 
 stole in, the men had warning of its approach in the 
 
 379
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 sounds of awakening life, which floated up to them 
 from the gorge, drowning the faint roaring of the 
 river. 
 
 The soldiers, who sat shivering in the trail, were 
 the first white men to push so far northward beyond 
 Pandanaong, and to them the dawn came slowly. 
 
 As it began to lighten, the Second Lieutenant 
 gave a whispered command, and the detachment 
 moved forward in single file preceded by a prisoner, 
 a Bibbillane, who had been captured down at the 
 foot of the hills, the night before and impressed as 
 a guide. He marched with bound arms, a short 
 cord running from his wrists to the man from Ten- 
 nessee, who drove him much as he might a horse. 
 The path was a trail which no one but the prisoner 
 could have followed. When they had been march- 
 ing a half hour, the native stopped abruptly. 
 
 " Seege ! " growled the Tennesseean. 
 
 The Bibbillane gave a guttural exclamation and 
 jerked his head significantly towards the jungle on 
 the right. They looked up and saw through a break 
 in the trees, a bit of distant sky, like the setting of a 
 window frame, right across the center of which arose 
 a thin column of white smoke. 
 
 The Second Lieutenant and Cassidy advanced a few 
 feet further down the trail. There they stood for a
 
 THE SLOPES OF CAN 'A LOAN 
 
 moment in whispered conference, and then the men 
 behind saw them drop upon their hands and knees 
 and crawl away into the brush, in the direction of the 
 clearing. 
 
 They were gone a very long time, and when they 
 returned the jungle was quite gray, which meant 
 that, out in the open slopes beyond, the sun was shin- 
 ing. 
 
 At a sign from the Second Lieutenant, Sergeant 
 Redder advanced and made a third in the confer- 
 ence, which lasted several minutes longer. Then 
 the three returned together and the force of thirty 
 was quickly divided. The young officer led the way 
 to the right, half the men, among whom was Cassidy, 
 following him and crawling through the dense under- 
 brush. 
 
 Redder, with the other half of the detachment, 
 moved on down the trail for fifty yards or so, until 
 they neared the open. He halted here and placed 
 his little force just at the edge of the clearing, in 
 which there were three crude barracks of nipa, and 
 an irregular line of trenches. 
 
 "What are the ordahs, Sarjunt? " whispered the 
 Tennesseean, eagerly. 
 
 " To geeb your moud shud," grunted Redder, ex- 
 
 plicitly. 
 
 881
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 When the snub had had time to have a proper dis- 
 ciplinary effect, the German condescended to give 
 further instructions. Creeping along the line, he 
 divided his force into three parts, to each of which he 
 assigned a nipa shack. " I vill give de gommand 
 1 fire ' ven de Loodenunt fires his virst shot ; dake an 
 easy aim, aboud at de floor and vaid ready. Dere 
 vill pe no varnin', mindt, joost de gommand to 'fire ! ' 
 De range is boint blank, an' effery man order hid de 
 house, vat as peen assigned to 'im. Lie as flad as 
 you gan, for ven dey shood, dey'll shood mosdly dis 
 vay. No talgin, mindt." 
 
 The men obeyed and lay waiting. As the mo- 
 ments dragged, the Tennesseean saw a chicken fly 
 down from the roof of one of the nipa houses, and 
 begin to feed. He wondered vaguely whether it 
 would be scared by the firing and hide in the thicket, 
 where he would be unable to find it afterward. 
 
 Meanwhile it seemed to the other party that they 
 must have lost their way. The crawl was intermi- 
 nable and exhausting. Their clothing was wet 
 through with the heavy dew which clung to the grass 
 and leaves, and their faces were cut with the 
 brambles, and yet the thoughts which ran through 
 the Second Lieutenant's mind, as they struggled 
 laboriously on, were of a most agreeable nature.
 
 OAT THE SLOPES OF CANALOAN 
 
 Here, at last, was his opportunity, for which he 
 had waited a very long year. He was about to enter 
 his first fight and in command. The fates had been 
 indeed kind to him. Major Crompton had received 
 an order two days before to repair to Iloilo and sit 
 upon a court-martial. The command of the Silay 
 detachment consequently devolved upon the junior, 
 and the following day Benita had appeared with a 
 letter from Mispall. That was at four o'clock in 
 the afternoon; six hours afterward they had marched 
 out of Silay and had been marching ever since. 
 
 The long crawl was over at last and they neared 
 the clearing. Peering through the few feet of brush 
 which still intervened, the young officer made a 
 survey of the field. 
 
 They were now in the rear of the trenches, on the 
 flank toward the west, and the garrison, with one ex- 
 ception, appeared to be asleep. The exception was 
 a solitary sentry who had been stationed at one end 
 of the long line of trenches. He sat with his back 
 toward them and his rifle across his knees. At the 
 moment he was engaged in rolling a cigarette. 
 
 "Fire!" 
 
 So perfectly had Sergeant Redder kept his men in 
 hand, that the two volleys rang out all but simul- 
 taneously. Their fire crossed just in front of the 
 
 383
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 houses and riddled all three pitilessly. The sentry 
 stopped rolling his cigarette and lay upon his back, 
 staring upward with a half smile, his eyes fixed 
 meaninglessly upon the sun, which rose just then 
 above the bamboo brake across the clearing. 
 
 "Forward!" 
 
 The fifteen men tumbled, pell mell, out of the 
 jungle brush and into the first trench. There was 
 no opposition there. The greater part of the 
 enemy's force of seventy odd had been sleeping 
 under, and behind, the three little houses. At the 
 first volley, at least a third fled wildly into the jungle 
 and down the slope beyond. The others fell into the 
 center trench and began an erratic fire at will, in the 
 direction of Redder's force. They were forty odd 
 in number, and strangely enough had, at the first 
 moment, no suspicion that the real attack was on 
 their flank. 
 
 Creeping to the juncture of the two trenches, the 
 Second Lieutenant grouped his men carefully and 
 poured a murderous magazine fire into their dis- 
 ordered mass. 
 
 " L " Company's bugler now sounded " Commence 
 firing," and as the clear notes rose above the sharp 
 rattling of the rifles, Redder's men began a deliber- 
 ate and careful fire at will, their bullets just grazing 
 
 384
 
 ON THE SLOPES OF CANALOAN 
 
 the center trench. The combined fire was irresist- 
 ible and the enfilade was complete. 
 
 There was one among the enemy who seemed to be 
 in command and who could be heard shouting orders 
 in Spanish and Visayan. Under this leader, what 
 remained of the force retreated to the third and last 
 trench. This was their final stand. Beyond there 
 was the jungle, through which pursuit would be im- 
 possible. The trench had been built with more skill 
 than the others and ran almost at right angles with 
 the one which had been enfiladed the moment before, 
 and into which the Second Lieutenant now poured 
 his little force. It was the happiest moment of the 
 young man's life. 
 
 "Cease firing!" 
 
 The call rang out and conveyed its message to 
 Redder, as the fifteen men under the Second Lieuten- 
 ant were crouched in the enemy's trench. 
 
 The plan of action had carried admirably. Not a 
 man had suffered from the wild firing of the insur- 
 gents, and Redder was even now moving his force 
 rapidly toward a point where they could sweep the 
 short open space between the last trench and the 
 safety of the dense brush beyond. 
 
 The Second Lieutenant paused for breath, as there 
 was a moment's lull in the action. 
 25 385
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 One final charge from the flank, and then the third 
 trench would be carried and the day won. So far 
 it had been absurdly easy. 
 
 The Second Lieutenant had planned that little en- 
 gagement with a skill which promised well for his 
 future as an officer. Had he been as old as Oas- 
 sidy, or had he followed his usual custom of con- 
 ferring with that soldier as to the next move, he 
 might have lived to do great things for his country 
 some day. But there is a reckless enthusiasm which 
 comes to young men at the moment of success in 
 battle and leads them to mar victory by over con- 
 fidence and carelessness. It came to the Second 
 Lieutenant then. 
 
 It was ridiculous to prolong this action. " Strike 
 while the iron was hot." That was a good motto. 
 He reloaded his revolver. 
 
 " Fix bayonets ! " 
 
 The fifteen bayonets sprang into their places with 
 a sound they had never had on the parade ground in 
 front of the Silay church. Things do sound differ- 
 ently when they are done in earnest. The young 
 man's eyes were blazing with a strange light. " For- 
 ward," he shouted, and sprang upon the embank- 
 ment. 
 
 Just one hundred per cent, of the men behind him 
 386
 
 ON THE SLOPES OF CANALQAN 
 
 were there as soon as he was, and a few seconds 
 later they were pouring their fire direct into the last 
 trench. But in those few seconds a fairly directed 
 volley was poured into their midst by the enemy's 
 force, which was now reduced to some twelve men. 
 The Second Lieutenant sank upon one knee. 
 
 " Give 'em hell, boys ! Take command, Sergeant 
 Cassidy, enfilade ! " 
 
 The last words died faintly away in the sharp 
 magazine fire of the fifteen rifles. Eedder's guns 
 spoke next, as the fragment of the enemy, dropping 
 all efforts at anything but self preservation, darted 
 across the open space. Two of them fell and the 
 others gained the shelter of the wood. 
 
 " Sound th' assimbly ! " shouted Cassidy. " Cease 
 firing!" 
 
 There was no assembly sounded. " L " Company's 
 bugler was dead. 
 
 Five minutes had elapsed. Cassidy had thrown 
 out a hurried cordon of sentinels around the little 
 enclosure to guard against a possible counter attack, 
 but there was no indication that one would be made. 
 
 Those of the enemy who had not escaped lay in 
 the trenches huddled together in pools of blood. 
 
 The Americans who had not been posted as sen- 
 887
 
 D4NIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 tinels were grouped in the shade of a banana tree. 
 In the center of the group lay the Second Lieuten- 
 ant. He was staring at the tree tops with an ex- 
 pression of almost boyish bewilderment on his face. 
 
 " Am I very badly hit, Sergeant ? " he asked, 
 faintly. It had all happened so suddenly, at the last. 
 
 Cassidy did not answer, for the words were chok- 
 ing him. The commanding officer had changed his 
 status in the last few minutes. He was a boy now, 
 to the hard-featured men who stood about him with 
 moist eyes. He could have been Cassidy's son. 
 
 "It's pretty bad, Lootenant," said the Tennes- 
 seean, when the question had remained so long un- 
 answered that the boy looked at them with a faint, 
 sick fear. He did not hear the reply clearly. 
 Everything seemed away off, and the roaring of the 
 river, which was not audible to the other men, be- 
 gan in his ears and was just as it had been during 
 the long hours of the night, when they had crouched 
 waiting. 
 
 The roaring deepened and grew more bold, for the 
 current of the river was running fast. He smiled 
 slightly, and turned his head to one side in an atti- 
 tude of listening. After a long silence, during 
 which his face had grown white, he spoke again: 
 
 " Sergeant," he said. " Sergeant ! " 
 
 388
 
 ON THE SLOPES OF CANALOAN 
 
 As Cassidy answered, the tears which had been 
 restrained so long, fell openly. 
 
 " I think that's the Bago, Sergeant," the boy mut- 
 tered. 
 
 The men, of one accord, took off their hats and 
 stood with bowed heads. " Ah, Gawd, if we'd only 
 a surgeon," said Cassidy, passionately. " It 
 might " 
 
 " Couldn't nohow, Sarjunt," said the Tennesseean. 
 " Look ! " He pointed with his hand, and Cassidy, 
 following the gesture, saw. 
 
 There was no need to speak in whispers now. The 
 roaring of the river drowned all other sounds. It 
 was a broader and a deeper river than the Bago, and 
 he was drawing very near to its banks. 
 
 Then something happened which was spoken of 
 in whispers among the men of " L " Company for 
 long afterward. The young soldier's eyes had been 
 dull and almost glazed. They now became suddenly 
 bright, with a brightness which some of the men sub- 
 sequently declared was not of this world. He raised 
 his right hand sharply to where the brown hair was 
 showing under the rim of his soiled, campaign hat. 
 
 " Sir ! " he said in a voice as clear as it had been 
 an hour before ; " Sir ! I have the honor to re- 
 port " 
 
 389
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 The hand relaxed first, then the whole body, and 
 there was a quick gasp, as he rolled over into Cas- 
 sidy's arms. They put the hat over his face to shield 
 it from the strong rays of the sun and stood about for 
 a few moments in silence. The Second Lieutenant 
 of " L " Company had reported for duty with his last 
 command. 
 
 The spectacle which greeted Cassidy's eyes when 
 he entered the larger of the three shacks a few 
 minutes later, was one which it is not best to dwell 
 upon in any detail. It had been crowded with sleep- 
 ing men an hour before, not one of whom had 
 escaped. 
 
 Cassidy, hardened as he was, sickened at the sight 
 and hurriedly left the hut. 
 
 " Go into thim shacks, some av you min," he said, 
 " and bring out th' dead. Move lively now. Oi 
 want to sthart back directly." 
 
 Several of the soldiers went to do his bidding. 
 The man from Tennessee entered the smallest one 
 and came out again a moment later, bearing some- 
 thing in his arms. He brought it and laid it in 
 silence at Cassidy's feet. 
 
 Mercedes had never looked more fair in her life 
 than she did as she lay there, her luxuriant dark 
 
 390
 
 ON THE SLOPES OF CAXALOAN 
 
 hair falling in profusion over her shoulders. There 
 was a small, round hole just over the right eye, from 
 which the blood had trickled down the soft cheek and 
 begun to congeal. Had it not been for that, she 
 might have seemed quietly sleeping. 
 
 The two men regarded each other questioningly. 
 Cassidy was sorely troubled. 
 
 " How did it happen ? " he asked at length. 
 " Benita said she wuz at th' hacienda whin we left, 
 an' I told her not to let her lave." 
 
 The Tennesseean knit his brows. " Jose musta 
 brung her up heah last night, by the short trail. Ah 
 found this in yander, so Ah reckon they wuz to- 
 gether, Sarjunt." 
 
 The Irishman took Mispall's big straw hat and 
 threw it into the smouldering embers of the camp 
 fire. Then he glanced once more at the sweet, 
 gentle face of Mercedes, and said softly, for in the 
 roughest men there is found, sometimes, the greatest 
 delicacy, " Niver moind that, now, poor gurl; an' 
 don't tell th' others." 
 
 The Tennesseean nodded and the other men came 
 crowding around, staring in blank amazement at the 
 dead girl. They asked a dozen questions, to no one 
 of which Cassidy condescended to reply. At length, 
 
 when their surprise had somewhat abated, a sudden 
 
 391
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 painful silence fell upon them; the mind of each was 
 tilled with the same unpleasant query. Finally Gas- 
 sidy voiced it. " Thank Gawd," he said, slowly, 
 " no wan knows who done it." 
 
 " Amen, Sarjunt," said the Tennesseean, guiltily. 
 He knew where he had fired, at the corner of the 
 building, and he also knew where he had found the 
 body of Mercedes. 
 
 There is a spot in the little clearing, just where the 
 jungle slopes off, toward the westward, and over 
 which Canaloan mounts eternally, a silent, brooding 
 guard. As the sun rises over the eastern slopes of 
 Murcia Pass, it strikes here first. 
 
 It was at this point that they laid Mercedes and 
 the Second Lieutenant and " L " Company's bugler, 
 side by side. Then, when all was ready, the men 
 fell in, in double ranks, facing toward the gorge. 
 
 392
 
 Chapter XXV 
 MARSHALL EVERTON 
 
 DISTANCE FAIKCHILD was alone in the 
 library of a very old house, in a neighbor- 
 hood from, whence most of its dignified con- 
 temporaries had departed. It was after dinner, and, 
 as she approached the window fronting upon the de- 
 serted street, her loneliness partook of a character 
 which it had worn frequently of late. It was a pas- 
 sive acceptance of loneliness and an acquiescence in 
 the decree of Fate, which pointed out a long stretch 
 of years, made up of lonely evenings, and said, 
 " This is your future ! " 
 
 There was a cushioned divan in the window, and, 
 seating herself upon it, she leaned toward the cold 
 glass and gazed thoughtfully at the scene without. 
 It was in keeping with her position and her humor. 
 There was no one in sight and the snow was falling 
 softly and steadily, deepening upon the pavements 
 with a white carpet and rapidly obliterating the tracks 
 
 393
 
 DANIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 of the solitary vehicle which had passed since four 
 o'clock that afternoon. 
 
 Those who live too much alone grow fanciful. 
 She likened the cold, empty silence of the scene to 
 her own life, and shivered slightly. Then, leaving 
 the window, she crossed to a great leather armchair 
 in front of the fire, sank into it, and fell to regarding 
 the cheerful glowing of the coals. 
 
 It is not unlikely that the sudden loss of a great 
 hope is a worse blow than the loss of a possessed 
 reality. Under the most favorable of conditions, 
 realities are apt to be tempered with disillusion, and 
 their loss is less severe than the loss of the hope 
 which preceded them, to the extent of that disillu- 
 sion. In Constance Fairchild's case, the hope had 
 existed so long, and with such good reason, that it 
 had given her almost as clear a title to the happiness 
 it promised, as actual possession. 
 
 More than a year had passed since that last morn- 
 ing in Manila, when her hope had died, and try as she 
 might, she had not been able to bury it. All of the 
 more violent emotions carry with them their own 
 reaction. She had been, at the first, so utterly sick- 
 ened and disgusted with the revelation which Daniel 
 Everton had made to her, that it had seemed as 
 tho she must forget him speedily. In those first 
 
 394
 
 MARSHALL EVERTQN 
 
 days, she had prayed for strength to keep her from 
 despising him too much. Latterly, the prayers had 
 been, that she might forget him and throw off the in- 
 fluence he was exercising over her life and thoughts. 
 These prayers had remained unanswered. 
 
 Whenever she reviewed in her mind that last 
 interview, she experienced a renewal of the scorn 
 and contempt which she had then felt for him; and 
 yet, at odd moments, the other memories came back 
 and intruded upon her, whose mind should have been 
 occupied solely with the recollection of his one des- 
 picable act. When she thought of him deliberately, 
 which was but seldom, she dwelt upon his marriage ; 
 when she thought of him involuntarily, which was 
 often, it was of his courage on the field and of the 
 many other things about him which she had learned 
 to love. 
 
 As the months had passed, she had grown to think 
 of him as two persons separate and distinct. The 
 one, the man she had loved and believed in, the 
 soldier, the gentleman; the other, the man as he 
 had shown himself on that last horrible morning. 
 Sometimes she would awake at night and imagine 
 that that morning had been a dream. She recalled 
 how unusually hot and stifling it had been and how 
 
 unreal the sunlight. Surely, she would think, as 
 
 895
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 she lay in the quiet and darkness of her western 
 home, that heat and that intense, white sunlight 
 could never have had a real existence. It was all a 
 horrible nightmare. 
 
 Then those nights would have other thoughts, such 
 that, when she reverted to them the next day, they 
 would bring a flush of self-disdain to her face. It 
 seemed that she was deteriorating; that she had 
 grown, morally, less erect; because, when his pres- 
 ence was unusually strong upon her, she would have 
 to check herself in the act of wishing that, since he 
 had to marry for money, Fate had given him to her. 
 She could have elevated him, and perhaps the good 
 that was in him would have overcome the one sordid 
 characteristic. She was not perfect, herself, and 
 not strong always; she began to realize that now, 
 Perhaps he had been sorely tried by poverty and 
 need. So, in the long watches of the night, she 
 would find excuses for him, and then, in the bright, 
 clear light of the next day, she would despise her- 
 self for having found them. 
 
 In certain respects, animals are more fortunate 
 than human beings. They have an instinct and they 
 follow it. Men have an instinct; but they also have 
 a judgment, and the two are not always on friendly 
 terms. They had been at odds in Constance Fair-
 
 MARSHALL EPERTON 
 
 child's breast for months. Instinct told her to love 
 Everton; judgment, to despise him. She obeyed 
 both, sometimes alternately and sometimes together, 
 and the result was a continuous quarrel within the 
 domestic circle of the soul, which was infinitely 
 harder to endure than the most rasping ones within 
 that of the family. 
 
 As she sat ruminating upon the future, Constance 
 wondered if she had not made a mistake in planning 
 her life along such independent lines. Perhaps it 
 would have been better if she had followed the more 
 usual convention, commanded by the world for spin- 
 sters in her position, and taken some elderly duenna 
 to live with her. She had not done so, being no 
 believer in artificial relationships, and her brother 
 was still in the Philippines. 
 
 She aroused herself with a slight effort and picked 
 up a book from the table at her side, prepared to pass 
 this evening as she had passed so many of late. As 
 she opened its pages, however, there was a loud ring 
 at the door and she glanced up in surprise. It was 
 ten o'clock and a call at that hour, from any source, 
 was most unusual. " Not at home, Stevens," she 
 said, and returned to her book. 
 
 The front door opened and there was a sweep of 
 cold, damp air. Then followed a moment's whis- 
 
 897
 
 DANIEL EfERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 pered conference, after which Stevens appeared once 
 more at the door of the library. " It's Mr. Everton's 
 man, miss, and he says it's something most particular. 
 He has a message for you." 
 
 " Show him in." 
 
 " Good evening, Miss Fairchild," said John, 
 brokenly. " Thank you fer seein' me." She 
 glanced at him quickly. The man was laboring 
 under some strong, emotional excitement. His eyes 
 were red, and she saw that he had been crying. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked, encouragingly. 
 
 " Mr. Everton, miss, is a-sinkin' fast has been 
 for two days now, and it looks like he couldn't hold 
 out over night. This afternoon he was took with a 
 fit of wanderin' like, in his head. Didn't know no- 
 body, an' kept a-askin' for you an' Mr. Daniel." 
 
 Constance did not speak immediately, and looking 
 at her, the servant fancied that her face was hard 
 and unsympathetic. He was surprised, for he had 
 expected his appeal to meet with an immediate 
 response. After a moment's hesitation, he added, 
 entreatingly, " I think that if you was to hear him, 
 miss, you'd go. He can't last much longer, an' it's 
 downright pitiful, the way he's been a-askin' for 
 you." 
 
 The hardness in Constance's eyes had not been for 
 398
 
 MARSHALL EVERTON 
 
 Marshall Everton. She hastened to speak, and in 
 her voice the old servant noted an accent of real dis- 
 tress. " Of course I'll go/' she said, " at once. But 
 where is Mr. Daniel ? " 
 
 " I don't know, miss. I wrote him long ago that 
 Mr. Everton was a-failin', and took the liberty of ex- 
 pressing my opinion as how he wouldn't last the year 
 out. I've never had no answer an' it's time one 
 came now that is, if he'd written prompt like, when 
 he got my letter." 
 
 Constance gave a slight gesture of impatience. 
 She had heard enough of Daniel Everton. Her 
 heart went out in sympathy to the old father, who 
 was dying alone. She touched a bell on the little 
 table, and Stevens, who had been waiting outside the 
 door, answered the summons. " Call a cab," she 
 said, briefly. " I'll go back with you," she added, to 
 John. 
 
 Marshall Everton's shrunken form had wasted 
 away, until what lay beneath the blankets was but 
 the frame of a man. His face had not changed 
 greatly, and his eyes shone with an unusual and quite 
 unnatural brightness. As Constance sat beside him, 
 waiting for consciousness to return, his mind wan- 
 dered feebly, and he kept repeating two names. One 
 
 399
 
 D4NIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 was " Martha/' which had not been on his lips of 
 late years, and the other was " Daniel." 
 
 There had been others on those blue-gray lips that 
 evening. Some of them names which John, who sat 
 crying softly in the back of the room, had never 
 heard, and John had been in the Everton family for 
 twenty years. Of all the little company upon whom 
 the old man called, his son and Constance were the 
 only ones who could have answered. Marshall 
 Everton had reached that age when death signifies 
 not a going away to leave, but a coming home to join. 
 
 The trained nurse moved softly about the bed, 
 passing her hand over the old man's brow. The 
 front door closed and a footstep was heard on the 
 stairs; the step of a heavy man who had learned to 
 walk softly. A moment later a physician, whom 
 Constance had never seen, came and stood by the 
 bed. He looked gravely at Mr. Everton and nodded. 
 
 " No nourishment ? " to the nurse. 
 
 " None since noon, sir." 
 
 " Ah." He turned and spoke to Constance. 
 " Has nothing been heard from the son ? " he asked, 
 accepting her presence without comment. 
 
 " Daniel ! Daniel ! " said Mr. Everton, faintly. 
 
 She shook her head, striving to keep back the 
 
 tears. She felt that if the son had only been there 
 
 400
 
 MARSHALL EPERTON 
 
 then, she could have forgiven him all the rest. She 
 was of a nature to forgive all, save this desertion of 
 the old and dying. 
 
 The physician retired to the next room, where 
 Constance could hear him conversing in a low, cheer- 
 ful tone with the nurse. From the fact that he re- 
 mained, she judged that the end must be near. 
 
 When Mr. Everton had been silent for several 
 minutes, breathing heavily, he rallied somewhat and 
 spoke again, this time more coherently. " Daniel," 
 he said, " forgive me." He began to drum feebly 
 with his hands upon the coverlet, just as he had been 
 used to do in health. Constance recognized the 
 little gesture and thought of the day, so very long 
 ago, when she and Mrs. Cartwright had called upon 
 him, and he had drummed upon the arm of his chair. 
 
 " Daniel," he continued, after a pause. " I wish 
 you to explain to Miss Fairchild. She would not 
 prosecute an old man, Daniel, and I am old. It was 
 an error in judgment, an error in judgment and 
 I " 
 
 The sentence ended in a few muttered words, the 
 meaning of which she could not gather. She was 
 leaning forward now, listening intently. Suddenly 
 he caught his breath with a sound which brought 
 
 John across the room. The sound was not repeated 
 26 401
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 and the regular breathing was resumed. Mr. Ever- 
 ton turned his head and fixed his eyes upon Con- 
 stance. He tried to rise upon his pillow. 
 
 "Miss Fairchild!" 
 
 She knelt quickly by his side and slipped her arm 
 about his neck. " I am here, Mr. Everton," she said. 
 
 " Yes," he answered, regarding her intently. 
 " You have been here now for several weeks. I 
 thank you for coming. Had I known where you 
 were stopping, I should have called. I can scarcely 
 see you. Will you come a little closer, please? I 
 have been indisposed and cannot move readily." 
 
 Her face was within a few inches of his own. She 
 drew yet nearer and he sank his voice to a whisper. 
 " There is something I wish to tell you." 
 
 "Yes? What is it?" 
 
 The hurried eager tone startled him, apparently, 
 for he drew back quickly. " I owe you nothing 
 nothing NOTHING !" The voice was raised 
 now, almost to a scream, which brought in the nurse 
 and doctor from the other room. By an effort, Mar- 
 shall Everton raised himself upon his elbow. 
 " Understand," he said, clearly, " I owe you nothing. 
 It was all made good by the sacrifice of my son. The 
 accounts balance. Do you hear ? They balance ! " 
 
 He sank back exhausted, and there was a heavy 
 402
 
 MARSHALL EPERTON 
 
 silence in the room. After waiting a moment, the 
 nurse and doctor once more withdrew. 
 
 It was now after one o'clock, and what little re- 
 mained of Marshall Everton's vitality was ebbing 
 rapidly. The moments dragged slowly and the thin 
 white hands began to stiffen and grow cold. At two 
 o'clock there was a last returning flicker of soul 
 within the emaciated frame and he spoke again; this 
 time so faintly that Constance alone, heard, and as 
 she did so it all grew clear to her. 
 
 " Daniel made good the deficit," he murmured, 
 placidly. " Miss Fairchild has nothing to forgive." 
 A look of contentment came to his face as he spoke, 
 to be replaced, directly, by one of appealing misery. 
 " Daniel is the one to forgive. Oh my boy ! my 
 boy!" 
 
 There was a long silence. Then he said again, 
 piteously, " Forgive me, Daniel. Forgive " 
 
 Constance leaned over and placed her lips close to 
 his ear. " He forgives you," she said, earnestly. 
 " He forgives you." 
 
 The troubled look passed instantly from his face, 
 and he spoke again quite clearly. " That is all I 
 require," he replied, closing his eyes. On his face 
 was the look of a man who, as far as this world is 
 
 concerned, has made and submitted his account. 
 
 403
 
 DANIEL EVERTON, VOLUNTEER-REGULAR 
 
 The physician looked at his watch. It was half 
 past two., and Mr. Everton had been dead five min- 
 utes. Under the circumstances, and in view of the 
 fact that there were no relatives of the deceased 
 present, that was a long time to devote to respectful 
 silence while the soul of the old man sped on its 
 journey. Constance arose from the cramped posi- 
 tion in which she had passed nearly an hour, and 
 descended to the little study where the man upstairs 
 had been wont to pass his evenings. There was a 
 fire in the grate and in front of it Mr. Everton's easy- 
 chair. Sinking into this, she sat, going over again 
 and again the words which had been spoken but a 
 few minutes before. " Daniel made good the defi- 
 cit. It is he who should forgive." 
 
 It did not take long for her to understand, and, in 
 the degree in which she had despised Daniel Ever- 
 ton before, she now regretted the injustice she had 
 done him. It was very good to know that, after 
 all, she had not been mistaken in him. She could 
 go on loving him now, and it would be a great 
 happiness. She sighed slightly, and then, realizing 
 that it was time for her to go, arose and turned 
 toward the door. 
 
 Daniel Everton was standing on its threshold, re- 
 garding her in amazement. 
 
 404
 
 Chapter XXVI 
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 HAT are you doing here ? " he asked, clos- 
 ing the door and coming forward. He 
 wore the traveling suit in which he had 
 crossed the continent and his overcoat. She noticed 
 that he did not offer her his hand. 
 
 " I came because your father sent for me." 
 " My father ! Is he awake ? I'll go to him at once." 
 As he was leaving the room, she said something, 
 but what it was she was never, thereafter, able to 
 recall. It caused him to pause and turn toward her, 
 courteously. 
 
 " Haven't you been upstairs ? " she asked. 
 " No. I have only just arrived. How is he ? " 
 " I don't think you had better go up just now," she 
 said, searching for words in which to tell him. The 
 people in the room above were walking heavily about 
 and slamming doors. He heard a wagon stop in 
 front of the house, and, crossing to the window, 
 raised the shade. Then he knew. 
 
 405
 
 D4NIEL EPERTON, VOLUNTEER- REGULAR 
 
 " When did it happen ? " he asked, quietly. 
 
 " At half past two. He spoke of you at the last." 
 Everton made no reply, and after a moment she 
 added, " I must go now." 
 
 " It was very good of you to come. Is your car- 
 riage here ? " 
 
 She saw that he had no intention of admitting her 
 to his sorrow. " It is waiting," she said, crossing to 
 the door. He stepped ahead and opened it for her. 
 In a moment she would be gone and she might never 
 tell him that she understood, and ask him to pardon 
 the injustice she had done him. " I don't expect to 
 see you again, and before I go, I want you to know 
 that that I know." 
 
 He started and turned toward her, his hand on the 
 knob of the door. " That you know ? " he asked, 
 searchingly. 
 
 " Yes. He told me just before he died, and I 
 want you to forgive me for the injustice I did you. 
 It was all such a horrible mistake and so un- 
 necessary." 
 
 He closed the door quickly and stood facing her, a 
 sudden light springing into his eyes ; a light of hope 
 which changed the whole character of his face. 
 " And you don't blame me ? " 
 
 " No. It was a mistake, but you I don't blame 
 406
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 you." She returned his look and then her eyes fell. 
 She regretted what she saw in his, regretted it be- 
 cause of what stood between them. She feared lest 
 he should forget that barrier and say something which 
 she would, in after years, be sorry to have heard. 
 In love, entire confidence does not come at the very 
 first. " Your wife ? " she said. " Is she with 
 you?" 
 
 He came a step nearer. " My wife," he replied, 
 " has been dead for more than a year." 
 
 When a great sorrow and a great joy come simul- 
 taneously into a life, the joy submerges and drowns 
 the sorrow. In the moments which followed, Mar- 
 shall Everton's death was forgotten. 
 
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