and more morose and silent as the day wore on; at times the tired,
lonely girl at his side lagged and cast wondering, piteous glances
at him. Her woman's intuition told her that this man did not belong
where he was; it told her also that he had a secret and that one
of her sex was deeply involved.

The events of the next two weeks are of small consequence in this
narrative, which deals not so much with the history and mystery of
the campaign in the fall of '99 as with the welfare and emotions
of a single soldier at the front. Aguinaldo and Pilar had become
refugees by this time, hunted and hounded from place to place with
relentless fervour. Pilar was somewhere in the hills with his men,
the pride of the insurgent forces; Aguinaldo's remnant had scurried
off in another direction, and General Tono was on the coast with
what was left of the scattered force.

The net about Gregorio del Pilar was being drawn in and tightened.
The closing week in November saw him driven to the last extremity.
The tragedy of Tilad Pass was near at hand.

Teresa Velasquez never faltered, never tired. She proved herself to
be no incumbrance. Day after day, the officer in command expected
the expedition which would take her back to Manila; forces came up
from the south, but none were ready to go back.

She was an inspiration to the camp. Men who had forgotten their
manners completely brushed them up and danced attendance upon the
girl in the Filipino uniform.

Every man prayed for opportunity to do brave deeds, and when