By Sargent Kayme
“The native pilot who is to take the gunboat Utica aroundfrom Ilo Ilo to Capiz is a traitor. I have just discoveredindisputable proofs of that fact. He has agreed to run thegunboat aground on a ledge near one of the Gigantes Islands，on which a force of insurgents is to be hidden， large enough tooverpower the men on the gunboat in her disabled condition.
Do not let her leave Ilo Ilo until you have a new pilot， and oneyou are sure of.
“Demauny.”
Captain James Demauny， of the American army in thePhilippine Islands， folded the dispatch which he had justwritten， and sealed it. Then， calling an orderly to him he said，“Send Sergeant Johnson to me.”
Captain Demauny’s company was then at Pasi， a smallinland town in the island of Panay. He had been dispatched bythe American general commanding at Ilo Ilo， the chief seaportof Panay， to march to Capiz， a seaport town on the oppositeside of the island， to assist from the land side a small force ofAmericans besieged there by the natives， while the gunboatUtica was to steam around the northeastern promontory of theisland and cooperate from the water side of the town， in itsrelief.
The distance across the island was about fifty miles， whilethat by water， by the route which the Utica must traverse，was about two hundred miles. Captain Demauny， startingfirst， had covered half the march laid out for him， withoutincident， until， halting at Pasi， half way across the islandand well up in the mountains， he had been so fortunate as toobtain the information which he was about to send back tothe commander at Ilo Ilo. Panay had been， up to this time，one of the most quiet islands in the group. He had met withno opposition in his march， so far， and it was believed that theonly natives on the island who were under arms were thoseliving in the northeastern part of the territory. It was a force ofthese that had invested Capiz.
“Sergeant Johnson， sir，” the orderly reported.
“Very well. Send him in.”
A young man， wearing a faded brown duck uniform， tightlybuttoned leggings， and a wide-rimmed gray hat， entered thetent.
“I have sent for you， sergeant，” said Captain Demauny， “fortwo reasons. One is that I want a man who is brave， and onewhom I can trust.”
The sergeant bent his head slightly， in acknowledgementof the implied compliment， his cheeks looking a trifle darkershade of brown， where the blood had flushed the skin beneathits double deep coat of tan.
“The other reason，” the officer went on， “is that I want a manof whose muscle and endurance as a runner， and whose skill asa boatman， I have had some proof.”
In spite of the difference in rank， and the seriousness of thesituation， which the officer knew and the man guessed， the twomen looked at each other and smiled. For one was a Harvardman， and the other had come from Yale.
“The gunboat Utica is to leave Ilo Ilo at midnight， tonight. Itis of the very greatest importance that this dispatch，” handinghim the letter， “be delivered to the American general at Ilo Ilobefore the vessel gets under way. I entrust it to you， to see thatit is delivered.
“You ought to have no trouble in getting there in ampleseason，” the captain continued， spreading out a map so that theother man could see it. “I cannot spare any men for an escortfor you， because my force is already far too small for whatwe have to do. Instead of following back the road we took incoming here—which would be impassable for any one but aman on foot， even if I had a horse for you， which I have not—Ithink you can make better time by another route.
“Six miles from here，” pointing to the map， “you will reachthe same river which we crossed at a point farther up thestream. Get a boat there and go down the river some fifteenor twenty miles， until you come to a native village built at thehead of steep falls in the stream. I am told that until you reachthere the river is navigable， and that the current is so swiftmuch of the way that you can make rapid progress. At thatvillage you will have to leave your boat， but from that placeyou will find a clearly marked path to Ilo Ilo.
“The quicker you start， the better； and， as I have told you， Itrust it to you to see that the general has the dispatch before theUtica leaves port.”
It was ten o’clock in the forenoon when the sergeant hadbeen sent for to come to headquarters. Half an hour later hehad started， the letter tightly wrapped in a bit of rubber blanketbefore he had placed it inside his jacket， for he had already hadenough experience with the native boats to know how unstablethey would be in the current of a rapid river.
The five miles from Pasi to the river were easily made， inspite of the fact that it was midday， for there was a good path，which， for nearly all the distance， was shaded by lofty trees.
When he reached the river the sergeant bought from a manwhom he found there a native “banca，” for three dollars， asum of money which would make a native rich. In this boat hestarted on his voyage down the river.
A native “banca” is a “dug-out，” a canoe hollowed out fromthe trunk of a tree. It is propelled and guided by a short， broadbladedpaddle， and is as unstable as the lightest racing shell，although not any where nearly so easy to send through the water.
It was unfortunate for the sergeant that he did not know—what he could not， since the map did not show it—that theplace where the path touched the river first was on the upperside of a huge “ox-bow” bend. If he had kept on by land， athird of a mile’s walk farther through the swamp would havebrought him to the river again， at a point to reach which bywater， following the river’s windings， he would have to paddlethree or four miles.
Another thing which was unfortunate； that he could notknow the nature of the man from whom he bought the “banca，”
any better than he could know the nature of the river， and sodid not suspect that he was dealing with a “tulisane，” to whomthe little bag of money which the officer had shown when hehad paid for the boat had looked like boundless wealth， to seewhich was to plan to possess.
