She remained at Ilagan until the middle of June, when it began to be rumored that the Americans were preparing to invade the Cagayan valley, not only soldiers from the south but with the “mosquito fleet” coming up the river from its mouth at the extreme northern end of the island of Luzon. Nobody in the city seemed to know just where Aguinaldo had gone. Part of his advance guard had arrived in the city some three months before, but he had not come, and his soldiers had soon departed for the southeast, following the valley of the Pinacanalan river.

Tired of her surroundings and impatient to join Aguinaldo, Marie departed by the same route that his soldiers had taken. From an old native living all alone in a bamboo shack on the bank of the Rio Masagan river, which empties into the Pinacanalan about eighteen miles southeast of Ilagan, she learned that Aguinaldo and his troops had started up the valley of the Masagan. This stream rises high up near the summit of the Sierra Madre mountains which parallel the eastern coast of northern Luzon for nearly five hundred miles, and are inland from the coast from ten to thirty miles.

Marie had with her three trusted natives from Ilagan. She did not want to spend another night alone in the mountains. After proceeding up the Masagan for thirty-five miles to a place where its valley narrows itself to a gorge, its bed was so strewn with huge boulders that it became impossible to travel any longer on horseback; therefore, one of the natives was sent back with the horses, and Marie and the two others continued the ascent on foot, taking with them such equipment and provisions as they could conveniently carry.

After many hardships they succeeded in crossing the range in safety and soon found themselves descending the other side. A Filipino scouting party was met at the evening of the first day’s tramp down the Pacific slope. They were well supplied with food—thing Marie and her companions greatly needed. From them it was learned that Aguinaldo and his body guard and quite a complement of Filipino soldiers were secreted at the little town of Palanan on a small stream by the same name, about ten miles back from the coast and lying directly east of them on the journey which they were pursuing. This party escorted them to Filipino headquarters, which they reached July 10, 1900.

Marie was cordially welcomed by Aguinaldo, who restored her to a position on his staff and secured from her the identical information which he desired relative to the movement of the American troops, and the very information, strange to say, which led to his own discovery and capture by General Funston of the American forces in March of the following year.

Aguinaldo learned from Marie that from the Filipinos’ standpoint, the war around Manila had been a dismal failure. He decided, therefore, to send one of his trusted generals south by practically the same route over which Marie had come, with information to the Filipino troops east and south of Manila to move all their available forces north with the quickest possible despatch and to place them under his immediate command so that he might not only render himself immune from capture, but take the initiative and oppose the American campaign in the valley of the Cagayan river.

In December, 1900, about three months before his capture by General Funston, Aguinaldo, having learned that the Americans were making their way in great numbers into the valley of the Cagayan, asked Marie to take up duty as a spy again; to recross the Sierra Madre mountains; visit the American lines; ascertain their number of soldiers on duty in the valley on the opposite side of the mountains and then to bring this information to him, so that when reinforcements should arrive he would know better how to undertake the campaign.

To this, Marie willingly assented, but she insisted that she could not make the trip alone over the rugged Sierra Madre mountains; that she had nearly famished crossing them the first time. Aguinaldo therefor fitted out a little expedition consisting of eight Filipinos, in addition to Marie, and a pack-train of fourteen ponies to accompany her over the divide. Nine of the animals were for riding purposes; the other five were to pack the supplies,—three of them for the outward trip, two for the incoming. In addition to the rice which they took along, they were instructed to forage as much as possible.

On December 9, the party started out on their perilous undertaking. A point far up on the mountain slope, near a refreshing mineral spring, having been reached on December 17, the party halted and established a sub-base for their return trip. It was evident to them that they had struck the wrong trail and were going to be compelled to send Marie back through a different gorge from the one by which she and her associates had come over a few months before.

Here the party divided into two relays—one to accompany Marie close to the top of the mountains, the other to remain where it was until her guides returned. At this temporary base three Filipinos and two pack-horses were left. The Filipinos thus left behind were instructed to hunt and trap all they could till their comrades returned.

The on-going squad, consisting of Marie and five native soldiers, took with them their six riding ponies and three of the pack-horses. They departed from their comrades early in the morning, December 18. By night of the second day they had gotten so near the crest they could plainly discern that in one long march Marie could cross the divide and get a safe distance down the slope on the opposite side. Coming to an old stone church they dismounted and established themselves for the night. It was December 19,—the anniversary of Lawton’s death. Marie remarked about it.

This old church had partly fallen down. Vines and mosses had so interlaced themselves in climbing over its rocky walls and across its openings that they had to be cut away by the unwelcome intruders before they could gain an entrance. The stone cross on the front gable was still in place; but the old mahogany door had long since been torn from its hinges by the mountain storms, and it lay in a state of decay on the ground. An earthquake had destroyed part of the roof, and had caused the west wall to become inclined and to crumble.

Within, one end of the old altar was still found to be intact. The priest’s pulpit chair had become ivy-mantled, and one handle had rotted from its fastenings and had fallen to the floor. Statues of the Saints had pitched from their moorings in the alcoves along the walls and were lying face-downward or standing on their heads amid the debris below.

What hands had built this old church, none could tell. It seemed certain that no human being had entered it for over a century. The mountain tribes who had lifted into place the huge chalk stones that composed its massive walls, under the devout leadership of some pious monk, for a place of worship, had long since perished from the earth. The mountain game which rendered possible their habitation in this altitude had vanished. Everything and everybody had evidently given way before some fierce invasion of one of their southern tribes.

Marie was busy cleaning off the trash from the massive rock that lay at the entrance to the door-way. “1765,” said she; “come, see the date chiseled in the rock! I wonder what has become of the tribe that built it?”

A soldier who had made his entrance by one of the window openings, was busily engaged in prying up a huge flat stone just back of the altar. He had it loosened; he called for help to remove it. When the stone had been overturned and had fallen back onto its aged neighbors, some soft damp earth beneath it was slowly scraped away.

“Listen!” said the native who on bended knees was doing the sacrilegious work, “Did you hear that grating noise?”

He scraped again with his bolo turned edgewise, and gripping the back of it firmly with both hands. “Do you hear it?” said he. “It’s here!”

In a few minutes a metallic box was pried out of the earth wherein it had lain unmolested for many years.

“Can you read the inscription on it?” asked Marie.

Carefully the sediment and rust shales were removed. The grooves in the letters and figures of the inscription were carefully cleaned out with a knife. It read

“The old father has been dead a long time,” said the fellow who was doing the details of the work.

“I wonder,” said Marie, “if we really ought to disturb his bones.”

“Do you suppose they put any valuables in the little chest when they sealed it up?” asked another.

“It has always been customary to put in the sacred urn,” said Marie.

“Cut it open!” commanded a corporal.

“I can’t,” said the robber; “we’ll have to build a fire and melt it open.”

This they did; and in it they found the dust of his bones and a number of valuables including the Patricia’s gold-lined cup which Marie took and hung on her belt.

That night a terrible storm swept over the mountains. Marie and her companions crept into the old church for refuge. The ponies had been given some rice and then set free to forage as best they could. They were stampeded by the violence of the wind and rain.

The morning broke cool and clear. Everybody was astir at day-break. The ponies were gone, but plenty of rice remained. Marie soon saw a way out of the difficulty. She left three of her men at the old church to await the return of the two who were to accompany her until she reached some plan for speedy descent on the opposite side of the mountains.

The advance party started out early on foot, taking with them such a supply of rice and bananas as they could carry. Only three miles farther up they entered a canon whose rocky walls, at places almost perpendicular and seeming to form pillars for the sky, were so close together at their base that it would have been impossible to have used the ponies for travel, even though they had not retreated in the storm.

Good progress was made, and by sun-down, December 20, they had reached the upper rivulets of what afterwards proved to be the north fork of the Rio Masagan, instead of the south fork which she had previously followed. The beautiful valleys below them were plainly visible as the sun sank to rest over the distant hills. A small native village could be seen on the bank of the stream a few miles ahead. The party bivouacked for the night.

Early the next morning, after a light lunch of cold rice, Marie was off on her important mission.

Her two escorts made their way back to the old church, where after another night’s rest, the five undertook their return journey to the sub-base at the spring far down the mountain side. When they reached this camp they found their ponies all returned to it; and their comrades, thinking they had all been captured or slain by the Americans, were hastily preparing to retreat. The entire party, except Marie, got back to Aguinaldo’s camp at Palanan, on Christmas Day.

Marie, was therefore, left to arrange for her own return, after her spy work had been completed. She contemplated securing help from the natives at Ilagan, among whom she had previously lived for a few months.