Phil lay awake long after his companions had forgotten their troubles in sleep. The bitter thought of failure was even keener to him than the dread of death. The watch-word of his profession was “death with honor.” Why should he fear to die in his country’s service? It was the end that all true naval men sought. Yet, it was hard to die so young and when there was so much to live for. Then the thought of his two companions filled his cup of sorrow brimful. He cried out against a fate so cruel. If they all could but die fighting, but to be shot down by these miserable half-civilized soldiers, as they might shoot so many dogs, was more than his youthful spirit could bear. He dropped off finally into a profound sleep, and when he awakened the next morning, he found the door of their cell open and the guards ready to take them before the military tribunal. Hands bound behind their backs, they were marched through the streets of the town. The natives taunted them with vile epithets, but kept themselves at a distance, for which favor the captives were grateful. After a short march they were led into a courtroom. Here they were unbound and told roughly to sit down. A few moments elapsed, then three officers, led by Colonel Juarez, appeared and took seats at a table in front of the Americans. The room was empty save for the court, the guard and the prisoners. Colonel Juarez arose and read in a monotonous voice from a paper in his hand. Phil understood it to be the order of General Ruiz, convening the court for their trial as spies. Juarez sat down in silence. “What have you to say in your behalf before we pass sentence?” he asked coldly, turning to Phil as spokesman. Phil’s throat was dry. He tried to speak but could not find voice. Juarez turned hastily to his companions. Each nodded his head in assent; the trial was finished and the accused men found guilty. Hot blood rushed to Phil’s face as he comprehended the awful import of this hasty verdict. “You dare not carry out this sentence,” he cried wildly, jumping to his feet. “It will be murder. We are not spies. Our country is not at war with yours. True, we are here to find out the strength of your forces, but it is not to take this information to your enemy. If you do this monstrous deed you will place yourself beyond the pale of civilization”--his indignation choked him. “I claim my right of appeal to General Ruiz,” he demanded fiercely. The court sat unmoved. On Juarez’s features was a grim expression of enjoyment. “Take them away,” he ordered, rising to dismiss the court. As the guards advanced upon the prisoners, a voice from the door stilled the room. The officers of the court clicked their heels together at “attention,” and the guards brought their rifles quickly to the “present.” Turning, Phil’s gaze encountered the steely eyes of General Ruiz. The insurgent commander walked calmly forward, motioning the guards away. “Your verdict, Colonel Juarez?” he demanded.