they mentioned now and then she gathered that they were trying to trace the nearest route to the coast. Suddenly the Captain turned and spoke to her in her own tongue.

"Do you know anything about the country around here?" he asked, more gruffly then he really meant to; but these Filipinos had caused him many weary days' marches.

Wenina turned her head slightly, but remained as silent as though he had spoken to her in English.

"You try her, Graham," he said, after he had waited in vain for her to speak.

Lieutenant Graham smiled, and turning to the girl said softly, "Señora, you will take cold if you sit there with the dew falling. Won't you come in and talk with us awhile?"

The girl turned her head, and slowly surveyed the Lieutenant. Then with a sudden blush she rose, and closing the door, seated herself in a low chair which he drew up to the table round which they were seated.

"Ask her about the route," the Captain said to him impatiently.

"Presently," the Lieutenant answered; and he began to talk to Wenina about herself, her life, and her family and friends. Very few were the girl's answers at first; but as her distrust wore away she yielded more and more to his gentle manner, and before she knew it found herself talking freely about her father, her native lover, and the hatred and fear in which they all held the white strangers. The Captain listened impatiently while this dialogue was being carried on, now twisting inpatiently in his chair, and now walking

nervously up and down the small

room.

"For pity's sake hurry and get to your point," he interrupted at last, "or we shall be here all night."

an

"Patience," the Lieutenant swered again; "if we frighten her we shall learn nothing."

He turned to Wenina again, and drawing the map toward them said, "Now do you suppose you could find where you live?"

The girl was indignant. Did he think she knew nothing because she was a Filipino maiden and did not understand the strange language he and his gruff companion spoke? Rising, she went to a small closet in the room, and brought out a torn, dirty map printed in the Spanish language. Proudly she pointed out the location of the village, and before she realized it she had traced out the route for them from village to village, to the coast. Her conscience smote her once or twice when she thought that she was giving information to the hated strangers flashed through her mind; but she quickly put the thought aside by the reflection that her father and lover were in an entirely different part of the island. When she had finished, the Captain rose and prepared to go. The old grandfather roused himself at the same time, and seeing the strangers about to leave, left the room. Lieutenant Graham went to the door with the Captain, but looking back saw a wistful look on the girl's face.

"I will just stay to say good night. to her," he said, and the Captain went out, leaving them alone. Lieutenant Graham walked over to where the girl was standing, and taking her

hand, said gently, "Don't let anything you have said to-night trouble you. You have done nothing for which you should at all reproach yourself, and I should not like to feel that you were worrying about it. You know we should find our way to the coast even if you had not helped us."

"But my father, what would he say?" the girl faltered, her eyes filling with tears, "and Junita, he would kill me if he knew."

"They will never know," he replied, "and you have done nothing wrong. I understand your father and lover are in another part of the island, and there is not the slightest chance of our meeting them, so you need have no fear about that. Come, I must go, and I don't like to leave you looking so sad."

The girl tried to smile, but the tears would come, and seeing them the Lieutenant drew her chair up for her again, and seating himself opposite, began to talk to her, hoping to divert her mind. Instead of questioning her again about her life, he told her of the lives of the women he knew in far off America, of their happy childhood, and how when they grew to be women, but a good deal older than she was, they met some man they loved, and married him. The girl forgot her sorrow in listening to him, and her eyes grew soft and bright.

"And they marry some one they love," she said, "I think that would be nice."

"And do you not love Junita," he asked her, looking at the sweet face gazing up into his.

"Oh, no," she replied quickly, "my father likes him because he is rich and brave, and will be the chief when

he is gone. But he is hard and cruel and I only fear him."

Poor little girl, the Lieutenant thought, but I suppose it is the same with all of them. Give us fifty years on the islands, and we will change all that.

"Well, little one, I really must go," he said, "for your grandfather will put me out. I am coming over to breakfast, remember, and must. see no tears."

Wenina gazed after him until he was lost in the darkness.

"They marry the man they love," she kept repeating to herself, as she closed the house for the night. All night long she tossed, and turned, waking with a start from a feverish dream, in which Lieutenant Graham's strong face had been the central object.

"And they marry the man they love." The thought had entirely driven out all her remorse at the information she had given the Captain, and it was with her as she prepared the morning meal. But the Lieutenant had said there were to be no tears; so putting a red poppy in her dark hair she met her guests with a smiling face.

That morning was the happiest in the girl's life. Under one pretext or another the Lieutenant lingered around the hut, telling her story after story of his native land, and trying to ease his conscience for the slight wrong he had done her in getting her to give him the information she had the night before. And Wenina listened, drinking in every word, and getting him to tell her of girls he knew who had married men they loved.

So the day wore on, and with the cool of the afternoon the troops started on their march again, for the Captain was anxious to reach the next village, which commanded a better position of the surrounding country.

The Lieutenant held Wenina's hand as he said good by, but he did not again refer to their conversation of the night before, thinking it the best way to help her forget it.

Climbing the hill back of her house, Wenina gazed after the retreating troops until the last white hat had disappeared in the dark woods; then she threw herself on the ground and gave way to the flood of tears she could no longer keep back. "And they marry the man they love." And she had to marry Junita. Never! she would die first. She would run away to America, and live like one of the white girls he had told her about. What had any of them done that they should be better favored than she? A thousand improbable ideas chased one another through her mind, made all the more bitter by the knowledge underlying them all that she would marry Junita, and live and die his household slave. When night fell and she was obliged to return to her home her sobs and cries had ceased, but an intense hatred of Junita filled her heart. She did not know that she hated him the more now because she loved another; she was too ignorant to realize her feelings, but a loathing and fear of the man, greater than she had felt before, had taken possession of her.

As she neared the village she noticed an unusual stir going on, and her heart beat fast as she thought for

an instant that perhaps the troops had lost their way, and had returned for the night. But entering her hut she started back with an exclamation of fear as Junita rose to greet her.

"Why are you so late?" her grandfather asked peevishly. "Junita has been waiting long for his supper, and, besides, you should not stay out so late with the foreigners around."

"I lost my way," she faltered; “but my father, where is he?"

"Your father will never return," replied Junita, more gently than he was wont to speak. "Beyond the hills we buried him, worn out with hunger and the marches. But I will care for you now, Wenina; it was his last wish. When I return from our next march I will marry you and take you home with me."

Wenina stood still, the tears once more rolling down her cheeks.

"Come, come, child, you mustn't cry so," the grandfather broke in.. "My son has given his life for his country, and you must not grieve for him. Besides, it is late, and I am hungry," he went on peevishly.

Poor old man! His only son was dead, but a merciful Providence had ordained that he could only partly grasp the fact, and his body cried for its accustomed food.

Wenina dried her tears and prepared the evening meal. It was not that her father had been so much to her, but, excepting her grandfather, he was all she had, and now she must marry Junita at once. In a dazed sort of way she listened to him talking to her grandfather and telling him stories of the fights and retreats. His unusual kindness toward herself was lost on the girl, and after the

meal was cleared away she drew her low chair to the door, and burying her face in her hands, gave herself up to the whirl of thoughts that went round and round in her brain. Junita's hand on her shoulder roused. her.

"Come, Wenina," he said, "your grandfather has gone to bed, and now we must talk over our plans for the future. You know when I return next time I want to find a smiling bride waiting for me."

"Where are you going?" she asked, feeling she must say something.

"After the troops who left to-day, of course. We will give them time to leave Rinika and fall on them in the swamps between there and the hills. If we can only come upon them unawares we can kill every one. Those who escape will get lost in the hills; we will track them down, and your father will be avenged."

Wenina dared not trust herself to reply. One word from her would betray the interest she felt in this particular company; so, without answering him, she began to talk to him about her father and their future · home together.

But Junita was full of the victory he had planned, and ever and again he brought the subject back to the coming fight. It was generally thought that the white troops would stay that night at the next village, and, eager to get beyond the hills before another night fell, would start early in the morning for the day's march. But the natives, who knew the difficulties to be encountered in that day's march, knew that night would probably find the enemy still fighting their way through the damp,

dark swamp. And then they would surround them and strike.

Wenina listened as in a dream, striving not to betray her agitation, and thankful when the last good night had been said and she was alone once more. What should she do? Her brain was in a whirl, and she opened the little window and leaned out to get the cool night air. Should she betray the plans of her own people and draw down upon her her father's curse. But her father was dead now, and if, as she had been taught, he was in another world, where he knew all, would he not see that his race was fighting a hopeless battle, and the sooner it was ended the better? And Junita! He would kill her, of course, but that would be better than having to marry him. At this thought she grew suddenly cold, and closed the window. "And they marry the man they love." Did some girl love the Lieutenant? At any rate, he must be saved. But how? His company was in Rinika to-night, and tomorrow the men would be in the swamps, footsore and weary, losing their way, and having to camp for the night where the enemy could surround them. Her people were to leave early the next morning, and by a forced march could catch up with the white troops at dark. If she was to reach them in time she must start at once. How she should find them in the swamp she must leave to fate. Having decided on her course, her next step was to get a horse. There was no help for it; she must take Junita's. At all events her flight would be discovered the next morning; but whether her grandfather would guess the truth or not, she did

not know. If he did, it was only an added reason why she should start at once, for she would be obliged to make a long detour of Rinika in order that they might not trace her.

Rising, she stole softly to the living room, filled a small basket with food and a pouch with water, and stole out of the house. The horse was fastened in the bushes near by, and very carefully she loosened the halter and led him farther into the woods. Her heart failed her as the branches cracked beneath his feet, but her grandfather could not hear, and Junita was sleeping the sleep of exhaustion. The outskirt of the village was gained in safety, and, mounting, she took the road for Rinika. Hour after hour she rode, and when the sun sent its first rays piercing through the trees, she took a detour to the left which would take her around about two miles from the village. After another three hours' ride she neared the road on the other side of the village. Here she paused. She had a five hours' start of the men, but her horse had been able to go scarcely faster than they could walk, and it had taken at least two hours to make the detour of the village.

That would give her three hours' start. But she must be at least an hour ahead of the troops, allowing that all were equally fortunate in finding the trail. Two hours she could rest, must rest, if she were to be able to stand the terrible journey of that day. Watering the horse, she tied him in the bushes, and, after eating a hasty meal, threw herself on the ground and slept. When she awoke the sun was high in the heavens, and she realized that it must

be nearly noon. Taking another hasty meal, she led the horse nearer the outskirts of the village, and, tying him again, hoped that some village: might find him later. The rest of her journey she must make on foot. She had lost so much time that she was obliged to strike into the main road and take her chances of meeting some one who knew her. The only person she met was an old woman, a native of Rinika, who stopped her with a pleasant greeting.

"Good day, Señora. You are a stranger here. Are you not afraid to go away from home with the white men around?"

"Are the white strangers near?" inquired Wenina, hoping to get some information without betraying herself.

"Not now," replied the woman; "they left our village very early this morning. But where were you last night, that you did not know they were in our village?"

"I was lost in the woods coming. from Bero. I have an aunt and a cousin coming from beyond the hills to see me, and I was to meet them at Rinika, but I lost my way and was going along this road to see if they were coming."

not

"Pray heaven they have started," the woman replied fervently, "or if they have, that they will escape the strangers. And you, Señora, had better return to the village and wait for them. You can do no good by entering the swamps."

"Thank you," Wenina replied, "I will go only a little farther, and if I do not meet them coming I will return to the village and find you."

She hurried on before her ques