Lieutenant Chickering cantered back from the sentry's post. Findinghis companion dismounted, he jumped down from his own pony and cameto join her. The native woman had gone her way toward the city beforehe returned, smiling a good-bye to Miss Allenthorne when she foundthat her words were not understood, and hiding the photograph in herbosom as she turned to go.
"I've found out all about it, Miss Allenthorne," the Lieutenantexclaimed.
"There is a story which it seems the natives believe, that years agothere was once, where we now stand, a river which ran down past thefort and emptied into the sea. To give access to this river therewas then a gate in the wall of the fort, directly opposite where weare now. Over the gate was a marble statue of a saint, who was called'Our Lady of Pilar.'
"One night a soldier who was on sentry duty at the gate saw a whitefigure pass out before him. He challenged it, and when he got no answerchallenged again and again. When the third summons brought no response,he aimed his gun at the figure and fired.
"In the morning this sentry was found at his post, stone dead, and thestatue of the saint was gone. What was still more strange, the riverwhich had always flowed past the gate had dried up in the night, andhas never been seen since. After a time they built up the gate intoa solid part of the wall, as you see it now; because as there wasthen no river here, there was no need of the gate. This had hardlybeen done when the tablet which we see there now made its appearancemiraculously. All these strange manifestations attracted so muchattention to the place that this shrine was set up here, and now foryears it has been a favourite place for devout worshippers--especiallywomen--to come to pray and to give thanks for blessings which theyhave received.
"It's interesting, isn't it?"
"Very," assented Miss Allenthorne, when the officer had finished;and then she added, almost immediately, "Don't you think it's gettingvery warm? Wouldn't we better ride back now?"
"Just as you say," the officer answered. Then he helped her to mount,mounted his own horse, and they rode home.
That evening Miss Allenthorne was invisible. When Lieutenant Daycalled, her mother explained that the young woman had a headache,possibly from riding too far in the sun that morning.
Alone in her room the young woman heard the officer's inquiry andher mother's excuses, for the bamboo walls of a Philippine house letconversation be heard from one end of the house to the other. Crushingin both hands the handkerchief which she had been dipping into icedwater to bind about her forehead, she flung it impatiently from her,thinking bitterly to herself as she did so how foolish it was to bindup one's head when it was really one's heart that was aching.
For alone in her darkened room that afternoon, the young woman hadacknowledged to herself--what perhaps up to that time had been almostas much of a problem to her as to other people--which one of the youngofficers she really cared for. She knew now that the love of LieutenantDay meant everything to her, and the love of the other man nothing.
And it was Lieutenant Day's picture which she had seen the Visayanwoman kiss.
One day General Allenthorne sat on the verandah of his house withan American acquaintance, the agent of a business firm, who had beensent to the Philippine Islands to see what opportunities there mightbe for trade there.
Some women walked along the street below the house, carrying heavywater jars poised on their heads.
"Queer country, isn't it?" said the visitor.
"Yes," said the General. "A body never knows what may happen tohim. Probably those women we see down there are slaves. Seeing themmade me think of a funny thing I heard of today, which happened toone of my men a little while ago.
"A young officer hired a native man for a servant. One day the fellowcame to the Lieutenant in a great state of mind, begging the officerto help him. It seemed he had a sweetheart who was a Visayan slavegirl owned by a Moro. The man who owned the girl was going to leavethe city and take all his property, including this slave girl, withhim. Pedro--that was the officer's boy--wanted 'the great AmericanSenor' to say she should not go. Some of the natives seem to havethe most wonderful confidence in the power of the Americans to doanything and everything.
"The officer told his boy he had no power to prevent the man's movingand taking his property with him; but he happened to ask how muchthe girl was worth. How much do you think the fellow said? Fifteendollars! And he went on to explain that this was an unusually highprice, he knew, but that this girl was young and handsome and cleverat work. Of course he thought so, for he was in love with her.
"Well, I suppose the Lieutenant was flush, or felt generous, or perhapssomething had happened to put him in an unusually serene frame ofmind. He handed over fifteen dollars, and told Pedro to go and buythe girl and marry her; which he did, and has been the happiest manalive ever since. He is really grateful, too, and there isn't anotherofficer in the service that is waited on as Lieutenant Day is. Thefunniest part of it all is, though, that he just found out a day ortwo ago, that in his gratitude Pedro had stolen one of his master'sphotographs to give to the Visayan girl he had married, so that shecould see what their benefactor looked like, and she has been going outwith it every day to an altar, or shrine, or something of that sort inthe wall of an old fort here, where the native women go to worship,to pray to the saint there to shower all kinds of blessings on theAmerican Senor who brought all this happiness to her and her husband.
"The boys have guyed Day so much about it, since they found it out,that he swears he will discharge the man, and have him hauled up forstealing the picture into the bargain. If he does, the woman will belikely to think that there is something the matter with the saint,I reckon, or that her prayers havn't found favour."
For once the wicker walls of a bamboo house had a merit all theirown. At least that was what a certain young woman thought, when shecould not help hearing this conversation in the room in which shehad shut herself for the afternoon.
That night at dinner Miss Grace Allenthorne, was so radiant that evenher father noticed it.
"What have you been doing, Grace?" he said. "What's the reason youfeel so well, tonight? I havn't seen you look so fine for a month."
"Oh, nothing, father," said the girl. "I don't know of any specialreason. I think that you just imagine it."
Which was, of course, a very wrong thing for her to say; for she knewperfectly well what the reason was.
While they were still at table a messenger came post haste for GeneralAllenthorne, with word that he was wanted at once at headquarters. Hewas absent nearly all night.
In the morning it was known that an outpost in the northern part ofthe island had been surprised and almost captured. The enemy was stillin force about the place and threatening it. A loyal native had creptthrough the lines to bring word and ask for help. A relief force hadbeen made up and sent at once. Lieutenant Day was among those whovolunteered to go, and had gone.
Ten days of horrible anxiety followed. Then word came that therelief party had reached the post in time. The forces surroundingthe place had been scattered, and the post was safe. There had beena sharp fight, though, and among those who had been badly woundedwas Lieutenant Day.
Of course he got well. No man could help it, with four such nursesas Mrs. Allenthorne and Mrs. Allenthorne's daughter Grace, and Pedroand Pedro's Visayan wife Anita.
Just what Grace told her mother, which led that worthy person tobecome responsible for the young officer's recovery, no one everknew except the two women themselves, but in addition to being amotherly-hearted woman, Mrs. Allenthorne was a soldier's daughter aswell as a soldier's wife, so perhaps it was not necessary to explainso many things to her as it would have been to some people.
Nobody ever knew--or at least never told--what explanation the youngwoman made to the Lieutenant, when he came back to consciousnessand found her helping to care for him. Perhaps she did notexplain. Possibly the explanations made themselves, or else nonewere needed.
At any rate, the young man got well, and since then he has b
eenknown to say--although this was in the strictest confidence to a veryparticular person--that he should always regard the Visayan woman'sprayers before "Our Lady of Pilar" with the profoundest gratitude,because the greatest blessing of his whole life had come to himthrough this woman's praying for him outside the walls of the old fort.