It was noon of a summer day. The sun was burning hot on the hills. Fleeing from the unusual heat, the cattle had sought cover under the thickets and the pine groves on the mountainsides.
Three men, their clothes torn almost to shreds, dashed into the hut of Adigan where he was weaving a camote basket. Breathless, they sprawled on the floor. All were panting and near exhaustion.
They were Ilocano men, and evidently, revolucionarios. One of them found breath to speak and cried, "Help, brother, help! We are being pursued!"
Adigan looked at the men with suspicion, being alarmed. "What do you want me to do?" he asked cautiously.
"Water! Give us water!" the men gasped.
Adigan ran to the spring above his hut and brought water in a bamboo tube. The fugitives had meanwhile recovered their breath and were sitting in the dingy hut of Adigan. They gulped down the water.
"We are hungry, brother, hungry. Give us something to eat," they begged next.
"I have only salt and camote," replied Adigan. For of such cinsisted the fare of the poor man of the hills, and Adigan was poor.
"Give us anything," the men demanded impatiently.
So, Adigan spread on banana leaves the sweet potatoes he hd cooked, which the men devoured ravenously. He gave salt, and offered half-riped bananas. The famished men were produsely thankful for their food.
Adigan regarded curiously the men, and after they were satiated, he brought out an almost empried jar of rice wine, the little of which he hospitably asked them to drink. He had conceived the idea, that if the men had any tale to tell, they could best render their story after a draught or two of tapoi.
True enough, the tongues of the three were eased when the rice wine was drunk. The first of them apologized for their haste:
"We have not long to stay, brother. We must depart at once and seek a great man who is in hiding in these fastnesses of yours. The enemies are close at our heels, coming to capture and shoot him," he spoke hurriedly.
But Adigan was slow to grasp the import of what the man had said. He stared vacantly for a moment before he ventured to ask, "But why is it that the enemies pursue you, when scarcely a year ago, we helped you drive them away from La Trinidad Valley?"
"Ah, brother, it is a new foe we have this time, not castilas. It is another people of the white race," the Ilocanos elucidated. "We have beaten our former oppressors, but now, an alien nation has come to rob us of our gained liberty."
"Who is this man that you seek?" Adigan asked again, while knitting his brows in recollection. "Is it perhaps he who passed by some days ago, a serious-looking man, tall and dignified?"
"With a long, curving mustache?" the Ilocanos wanted to ascertain.
"Yes!" Adigan brightened with his remembrance of the man's curled mustache. "I saw him on a chair, being borne by the natives. He seemed quite sick. He had large, fierce eyes. I heard him command the men, and his voice was gruff. The men addressed him Apo. I knew not where they were going."
"But which way did they follow?"
"They went over yon hill towards La Trinidad," digan pointed to a dense woodland.
"Good. We must reach them as soon as possible. Let us go." The men hustled themselves.
"Oh, please wait for a moment," Adigan detained them. He had more questions to ask. "Who is this great man. What is his name?"
"Don Paterno. He has come hither to hide," came the brief answer.
"And are the enemies now on the road to seize him?"
"Aye, they are coming fast, for they ride big horses. They shall pass by in the night."
"Paterno?...Tonight?...Adigan turned over and over these two words in his stolid mind. He stood thinking for some time. The forewarners left, saying, "Stay, brother, we go to fulfill our mission."
They were running, but before they got beyond hailing distance, Adigan called after them, "The enemies shall not pass in the night!"
Not understanding, the three men looked back hurriedly, then pushed on. The afternoon sun was declining, falling silently down to a bank og ominous clouds collecting in the west.
II
It was always hard for Adigan to make up his mind readily, even after deliberating. He had a lumberly way of thinking. Though he would set his will upon arriving at some conclusion with his ideas, he was slow about it. He had hit upon a scheme which he was bent on demonstrating.
Adigan thought of the great man who was presently in jeopardy. He had seen Don Patelno's - he mispronounced the name, - face, austere, smooth, unlike his own rugged countenance. In his imagination, he vividly pictured the Filipino leader, a protector of his kind. For the lowland people had declared they were brothers to the hill men!
Without waiting a moment longer, he climbed an elevated promontory where he had an unobstructed view of good portions of the Naguilian trail. He was tryng to discern the mounted men were on the road.
After gazing patiently long, he sighted a troop of cavaliers small in the distance. Thereupon, he reckoned that the horsemen would not be able to pass by till late in the night.
Adigan returned to his hut. By now, he had perfected his plan. It seemed, all circumstances were conniving with him, and he foresaw the perfect working out of his plot. He sat in his smoky hovel, hugging something. With anxiety, he waited for twilight to descend, which seemed slow of coming.
At last, darkness began to show outside, and he stepped forth, shouldering a heavy instrument. It was a moonless night of stygian blackness. He could not see an arm's length before him, for even the little eyes of heaven were shut, and a thick pall of mist had enshrouded the earth, such as often covers the uplands.
He went down the Irisan river till he came to a precipitous windgap, which was crossed by a wooden bridge. The trail stretched on from both ends of the bridge.
Not long after, the staccatto noise of a falling ax was echoing in the hills, causing men still awake in the few scattered huts around to sit up, wondering who waschopping wood in the grim darkness. But as the chopping was prolonged altogether, the men thought no longer of it, and went to sleep. They did not hear afterwards, a mighty splash into the roaring river.
For Adigan had cut the middle portion of the bridge, thus leaving two disconnected wings to stand, with a pitfall between. Adigan laughed forcibly to himself as he mused on the probable fate of the cavaliers. He did not bother thinking whether he was doing right or not. His duty was to save Paterno.
The bridge stood high above the river which was overlaid with hard stone boulders. A fall from the ferry would certainly cause instant death. Adigan stoically resolved to await the arrival of the mounted troops. He perched himself on a huge rock not far from the would-be scene of destruction.
Many moments passed before he heard the fast beating of horses' hoofs approaching. The sound came nearer. The horses were trotting. Now, Adigan held his breath. There was a rush over the first wing of the bridge, then...splash! splash! splash! He counted each plunging horse and rider - one, two, three, four, and more. The impact of falling bodies nigh froze his blood.
Suddenly, there were shots fired in the air. Adigan was startled and fled; but as he skipped away, one thought seared his mind. "They shall not pass tonight!"
The ravine was very steep, and the bridge was the only way across, none going around. If the horsemen went down the roadside, they would encounter an impassable thicket; while they could not ride up the other side as it was the blunt wall of a tall hill.
Adigan thought on the importance of his deed. Paterno could start unpursued during the night. Adigan felt an odd sort of satisfaction for having, as it were, done well his duty. "They shall not pass on tonight!" he repeated his vaunt.
Long before dawn, in the grayest twilight, the remaining cavalry soldiers proceeded to Baguio with their dead and wounded comrades. They had fered that Filipino guerillas were in ambush nearby. The curious natives, seeing the abandoned horses, cut them up for their meat. They invited Adigan to partake of the spoils, but he would have none of it. He stayed in his hut.
III
Days passed since the fall of Irisan bridge. It was early in the morning. Adigan sat sharpening the spathe of his ax preparatory to leaving for the forest to cut wood.
The same men who had passed by the hut of Adigan came again. They now seemed in no hurry, but were in a mood to tarry. Adigan looked up to them inquisitively, awaiting news that had to tell.
"We are returning home, brother," said they.
"Where is Paterno?" Adigan wondered.
"Ah, brother, it was not necessary for him to flee after aall. He finally surrendered peacefully, and the American soldiers treated him like a royal prisoner."
Adigan became downcast. He was silent.
"By the way, do you know who cut the Irisan bridge nights ago?" the men asked in turn.
"I do not know," Adigan vigorously shook his head in negation. A moment past, he would have proudly described his feat, but strangely, he was disinclined just now. The men saw his face being worked up.
They could not understand the sudden change in his expression. So they took leave of him and would not bother him furthermore. "Then, we shall leave you, brother," said they.
Adigan turned after the men had gone. He followed with his eyes the departing men as they sped down the trail to the lowlands. He would have liked to laugh aloud to himself, but he repressed his laughter. Instead, he spat sourly on the ground.
