“The audacity of those beggars,” he exclaimed, “attacking in force within ten miles of headquarters. It’s a shame, the few men we are allowed to cover this entire country. The general sees now that what is needed is concentration, but if we withdraw our entire garrisons from the towns it will mean that the innocent people there who have befriended us will suffer.” “I suppose you are right, major,” Phil said thoughtfully, “but in war it seems to me that one can’t stop to consider the feelings of innocent people where the success of the cause is concerned. Espinosa has twice as many troops as the general, and they are fighting on their home soil. They know every footpath. Some are not armed with a rifle but are far more dangerous to us with their bolos and fanatical bravery. We did not see his stronghold, I am glad to say,” he smiled grimly at the words, “but we know that one thousand men held it successfully against five times that number of Spaniards a generation ago. From what I have seen I say concentrate every available man and crush this fellow Espinosa before he gets any stronger.” Major Marble nodded his head in agreement with the views of the young navy man. “If we could always do what our military training dictates,” he answered sadly, “this war might not have begun.” “I shall go up the river in an hour,” Phil announced, “and if the general wishes I shall be honored to have him on board.” “The general is waiting anxiously to know that,” the major replied promptly; “that was my mission here, but your exploits so interested me I had nearly forgotten my mission.” Within the hour the “Mindinao,” flying the blue flag with one white star at her main truck in honor of her distinguished passenger, General Wilson, cast off from the dock and steamed up the river. “That was a fine piece of work,” Phil exclaimed in admiration, as he examined the cleverly constructed drawbridge built within the twenty-four hours by the army engineers. Its width was just sufficient to admit the “Mindinao.” Phil stood on the bridge beside the man at the wheel, piloting the gunboat through the ever-changing shoals, while O’Neil in person heaved the lead in the chains, calling out the depth in feet. After leaving the town the river ran through several miles of nipa swamp land, the home of the carnivorous land crab, the crocodile and the bandit Filipino. The gunboat continued cautiously, Phil keeping the sharp bow within the deep water, sometimes so close to the thickly wooded shore that he could have reached out and touched with his hand the overhanging trees.