tried to make a stand, around an old rice-house, and it took another
half hour to dislodge them. But when they did retreat at last, they
went in great haste, many leaving their weapons and outfits behind
them.

The fighting over, Ben started to find the major. Gilbert accompanied
him. Their first hunt for the commander, however, was unsuccessful.

"It's queer," was Ben's comment. "I trust he isn't dead in the
bushes."

The hunt gradually brought them to a trail through the jungle, and
presently Gilbert heard a faint moan for help. Running in the
direction, they found a soldier of Company C lying on some moss, his
knee shattered from a Mauser bullet.

"Oh, the pain!" groaned the poor fellow. "Help me, won't you?"

"We'll do all we can for you," answered Ben, and while he went to
work, Gilbert ran back to bring up the hospital corps with a
stretcher.

"You want to go after Major Morris," said the wounded soldier, as soon
as he felt comfortable enough to talk.

"We are looking for Major Morris," replied Ben, much astonished.
"Where is he?"

"He was knocked over by one of the Dagos, and then three of 'em
carried him away."

This was certainly news, and Ben waited impatiently for Gilbert to get
back. As soon as the young Southerner returned, both asked the
wounded soldier in what direction the captured major had been taken.

"They went through the cane-brake," was the answer. "You'll find the
trail easily enough, I think, if you look for it. One of the rebs wore
boots with high heels, so you can't miss 'em."

The wounded man did his best to point out the right direction, and was
then taken back to the hospital tent. Without delay Ben called Ralph
Sorrel and half a dozen others to his aid.

"We must go after Major Morris, and at once," he said. "Are you ready
to undertake the work? It may be a dangerous proceeding."

"We're with yer, cap'n," answered Sorrel, and his sentiment was that
of all of the others.

The trail into the cane-brake was followed without much difficulty,
and the party of eight advanced as rapidly as the nature of the ground
permitted. The storm had cleared off the night before, and the sun
shone down hotly, making the air in the brake suffocating.

"This yere is a putty big cane-brake, an' no error," remarked Sorrel,
after a quarter of a mile had been covered. "Cap'n, it won't do fer us
to turn ourselves about an' git lost."

"We'll stick to the one trail," answered Ben. "As yet I've s