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"How recently have you heard it?" queried Prescott. "Within ten minutes." "Thank heaven, then!" muttered the lieutenant. "The Seaforth people are holding out." "Is it at Seaforth's?" demanded Draney, with assumed eagerness. "So I imagine. But I must hurry on my way. Take care of yourself, Mr. Draney." Perhaps that last bit of advice was delivered in a tone of some sarcasm.
Then, noting that Colonel North had just stepped out on deck from his stateroom, Captain Cortland added hastily: "Pardon me; I wish to speak with the commanding officer." As colonel and captain met they exchanged salutes. "I told Draney, sir, that I wished to speak with you," Captain Cortland reported, in a low voice. "You don't like Draney?" smiled Colonel North, eying his captain shrewdly.
But, as you know, Cortland, some of the Moro dattos are given to heading sudden, unexpected and very desperate raids on white planters, and that fact has discouraged Americans, Englishmen and Germans from investing millions and millions of capital in the Moro country." "Yet the fellow Draney is a planter there, sir?" "Draney owns half a dozen very successful plantations."
When it was finished the officers sat in silence for a few moments. "Well, gentlemen," inquired Captain Cortland at last, "have you anything to offer?" "Are you going to arrest the man, Draney?" inquired Captain Freeman, of C Company. "Frankly," replied Cortland, "that is what is puzzling me. What do you think, Freeman?"
Often he is in a position to give the military authorities useful information of intended native mischief. Draney is a very big planter, you know, and white planters are somewhat scarce in the Moro country. It is one of the great disappointments of our government that more American capital is not invested in establishing great plantations in the extremely rich Moro country.
"I certainly do not," Cortland confessed. "And I'm almost as certain that I don't, either," replied the regimental commander. "However, Cortland, we shall have to treat him with a fair amount of courtesy, for Draney is an influential man down in the part of the world for which we are headed. He is influential with the Moros, I mean.
Personally, I haven't a doubt that Draney is behind all the trouble of which we're hearing rumors." "What can be Draney's object?" asked Captain Freeman. "Perhaps he hasn't really a sane object," responded Cortland.
"Sergeant Overton, do you think it possible that you have mistaken Mr. Draney for someone else?" "It may be, of course, sir," Hal admitted. "But I hardly believe it possible. Besides, I have pointed out Mr. Draney to Sergeant Terry and he also is positive that it is the same man." At that moment all three turned to look forward. There was some sort of commotion going on there.
"Detachment halt!" commanded Prescott in a wearied tone. Then the young commanding officer stepped rapidly toward the planter. "Well, Mr. Draney, what is it?" Prescott inquired. "I'm thankful you've come, Prescott." "Mr. Prescott, if you please," interposed the officer coldly. "I'm mighty glad you've come. Off yonder we've been hearing firing at intervals ever since daylight."
Sergeant Overton and Sergeant Terry have recognized him as one whom they saw with you in Manila." "Bah! That amounts to little. Señor Draney can deny." "But they have recognized you also, my Tomba, and so has Corporal Hyman. More, they have told Captain Cortland all they know, and all they can guess." "The dogs!" growled Vicente Tomba, his snarl showing his fine, white teeth.
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