The Americans bowed, but the Filipino advanced, his hand outstretched. Phil took it with almost a shudder. Why had this hand been withheld while the Spanish captain and his officers were asking for mercy scarcely five minutes before? Yet he knew that he had no choice but to take the proffered fingers; he and his companions were in the power of this man, the lines of whose mouth told what might happen if the native leader’s pride was offended. After shaking hands, Colonel Martinez went straight to the point. “You belong to the country of our enemy, and being such you must remain prisoners of war. We shall land at Dumaguete to-morrow, and if you will give me your solemn parole not to bear arms against us, I shall send you with an escort and safe conduct to Palilo. If not, I must send you to the headquarters of my superior, General Diocno.” Phil as spokesman bowed. “We shall not give you our parole, colonel,” he said emphatically. “We prefer to remain prisoners of war.” “As you will,” the insurgent answered coldly, but his swarthy face betrayed his admiration. “I shall assure you of my good offices with our general. And now, I shall leave you, but I warn you that your lives will be in danger if you leave this deck, or if you make the slightest attempt to thwart my plans. I shall have your belongings brought back here. You see I can take no chances, and I appreciate that you three Americans are no mean antagonists.” He cast a look of admiration at O’Neil, who had been listening in silence, his muscular fingers still clasping the stout crowbar with which he would like to have brained this pompous little Filipino. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Mr. Perry,” O’Neil exclaimed with a wry smile after the officer had departed, “and I guess it was a good thing the girl knew how to get the ear of that there little bantam rooster. In another minute, I’d have brained one of them, and then those words she spoke would have had as much chance to be heard as the chairman’s voice in a state convention.” The Americans’ belongings were brought to them from their cabin by several evil-looking natives, and very soon all were comfortable under the awning, protected from the wind by the boat against which an hour ago they had been about to make their last stand. The sun awakened the Americans at an early hour the next morning. While they were sipping their morning coffee, the lads gazed in admiration at the beautiful scenery about them. The little steamer had during the night wound its way past myriads of small islands, now but black smudges astern. The high mountains of Kapay Island rose boldly from the sea on their starboard hand. Ahead, becoming more distinct, was the shore line toward which the steamer was now traveling at an increased speed as told by the more rapid chugging of her engines. “Hello,” Phil exclaimed as he cast a glance toward the bridge, “something’s happening.”