d in, seized the oars and started in
pursuit. The launch on which he was being carried had for its power
a gasoline engine, and, of course, it soon left her far behind. When
she first started, the swells caused by the launch rocked her little
canoe quite roughly and impeded her progress. As she approached the
mouth of the river, passed the monument of Magellan and came between
the walled-city on the southern bank and the docks on the northern
bank, a crowd of excited natives thronged the shore, and many of them
recognized her. She heard some one cry out, "Vive Marie!" With might
and main she strove forward.

The launch made its seven-mile run to Cavite; the victim was placed
in the chute; the tide had risen to the danger line; her lover,
with his head thrown back, had just begun to gurgle the salt water,
when Marie, in frantic agony, almost exhausted, rowed around the
lower end of the chute and came near enough to the dying hero to
be recognized by him. Straining ever muscle to keep his head above
the water a second longer, he cried out in chocking tones that were
interrupted by the merciless sea which was rapidly filling his mouth,
"Goodby, Marie, God bless you. Avenge my death!"

Hush! At this moment another tidal wave engulfed the apex of the
chute. Not a sound could be heard save the slight flapping of the
waves against the pier, and the dismal chant of three priests, who
stood on the shore near by, and who had not been permitted to attend
the young spy before his death. Marie trembled; she dropped the oars;
her eyes fell; for a moment it seemed that her young heart stood still:
then her face flushed; the tears stopped flowing; anguish gave vent
to determined revenge; pent-up sorrows yielded to out-spoken threats;
and in tones sufficiently audible to be heard ashore, she cried,
"I'll do it."

The Spaniard knows no pity. If Marie were to have stepped ashore
immediately after her lover's strangulation, she might have come
to grief. It is strange that she escaped punishment for having
followed. She, therefore, rowed directly east and landed on the beach
of the bay, about four miles south of Manila, just west of the little
city of Paranaque.

From sheer exhaustion, she needed food; therefore, she walked northward
along the shore until she found a Mango tree heavily laden with
fruit. After eating a few luscious mangoes, she crept into a clump
of bamboo and had a good cry: tears so ease a woman's soul.

From her po