Before noon the “Mindinao” had anchored off Rodriguez’s ranch and the general and party were landed to view the scene of the recent fight. The shore was lined with curious and excited natives, those of Rodriguez’s men, who had been spared from the fierce attack. To them the presence of the gunboat so far up the river was almost a miracle. They pointed knowingly at the big guns and clapped their hands in savage joy at the thought of what they could do against the enemy. Captain Blynn had taken the situation in hand and had distributed the soldiers of his company to reinforce the native companies. A feeling of relief was now manifested by all. They were confident that no attack would be attempted while the gunboat’s guns frowned menacingly out there in the river. “That’s worth a regiment,” Captain Blynn exclaimed as he saluted the general and helped him from the “Mindinao’s” cutter to the bamboo pier, pointing to the graceful white ship, standing sharply against the dark background of jungle grass and banana trees. As they walked toward the house Captain Blynn dropped behind and took Phil’s arm confidingly. “After you had gone my men found a native tied up in all sorts of sailor knots with silk neckerchiefs, just under Rodriguez’s window. Señorita Rodriguez recognized him at once as a former friend of her father who she said had betrayed him. He was pretty well frightened and to save his skin, for he believes we are going to kill him, he has offered to show us the trail to Espinosa’s stronghold.” Phil shook his head in mystery. “I don’t know how he got there, unless----” He turned and called O’Neil from the boat. “O’Neil, do you know anything about a native securely bound with sailor neckerchiefs?” “Sure, sir. It was the one that crawled out of the window,” he explained hastily; “the young lady saw his face spying on her father. His name is Garcia.” “Do you know,” the captain said knowingly, “that he is the only prisoner captured? There wasn’t a single wounded man in sight this morning. It isn’t the custom of the country, you see.” Phil involuntarily shuddered. “How callous one becomes,” he thought, “in war time. Think of maybe a hundred wounded men cruelly butchered by brother natives.” Before they reached the house the party was startled by a rifle-shot from behind them. Glancing about quickly they saw a large canoe manned by natives appear from behind the trees and paddle directly for the gunboat; a large white flag flew prominently from the bow of the boat. Phil and Captain Blynn walked quickly back and sent O’Neil and his cutter out to learn the meaning of the flag of truce. The general and the rest of the party halted and waited, eager to see what this strange move might mean. The boat came quickly back and Phil took a letter from a native’s hand scanning it with beating heart. “For the general,” he said.