While this surgical operation was going on, Graydon, for the life of him, could not resist the temptation to ask her again why she had tried to shoot him. At first, so terribly in earnest did she take the question and beg for mercy, that he smiled at her; and then, seeing his amusement, she said, coquettishly: "How could I possibly have known that you were so nice? Besides, I had always heard you Americans referred to as brutes."
Graydon laughed, then suddenly his face became very grave. The realisation of her terrible situation had dawned upon him. A woman among a crowd of rough soldiers! Her brother and protector dying! And all surrounded by hordes of savage enemies who at any moment might kill them! The thought dismissed all pleasantry from his mind. Something must be done, and at once. Presently, he asked: "What is your name?"
"My father was Colonel Ramos Jose Velasquez; that also is my brother's name, except that he is not an officer. I am Teresa Fortune Velasquez. My mother was English--a sister of Sir William Fortune. She is dead. For ten years we have lived in Manila."
"You won't mind if I call the sergeant, will you?"
The girl nodded a slightly bewildered assent as Graydon moved rapidly towards the others. Shortly, he returned with the gallant Irishman.
"Senorita," began Connell, mopping his forehead and assuming his most polite manner; "you are perfectly safe with us, and as quickly as possible your brother and yourself shall be sent back to Manila. You are a brave slip of a girl, and we boys respect bravery in whatever dress--boy or girl."
She looked at him in grateful surprise and her lips trembled.
"But I am not your friend?"
"Possibly, senorita;" he bowed low with almost Chesterfieldian grace; "but we are your friends."
Outside, once more the Mausers were rattling, and Connell, with a word of parting hastily took his leave. Graydon, on the point of returning to his post, was prevented by the girl.
"You were gentle with me even when I tried to---Don't risk your life there. Shoot from that narrow gate," pointing aloft; "it's not so exposed."
Bansemer dragged an altar chair up to the grated window and perched himself upon it. The girl sat below him, holding her brother's head in her lap. He was groaning and crying out to the soldiers to kill him rather than permit him to fall into the hands of the natives again.
Suddenly there was a great commotion, and crashing of timbers in the front part of the church, followed by shouts and the rushing of feet. Graydon dropped from his perch and ran forth into the chancel. As he did so the banging of rifles close at hand deafened him. In an instant he saw what had happened. The Filipinos had charged the door and had forced it. They were crowding their way into the church in the face of the deadly Krag-Jorgensens. The chapel was lighted, but not from the inside. Cunning insurgents, in the shelter of the walls, were holding great torches just outside of the windows. Graydon could see his comrades firing at the door from behind every conceivable barrier. Without hesitation he dashed down the aisle and into the thick of the fray near the door.