“My chief will be delighted to receive such distinguished visitors,” he laughed, kicking Phil viciously as he lay helpless upon the ground. “That is for your cleverness of yesterday,” he snarled. “We’ll see you are kindly treated. We shall give you all the refined initiations that we can think of to make your stay with us pleasant and then----” He stopped with a significant gesture. “O’Neil,” Phil whispered after Colonel Salas had left him to join Lopez, who had assembled his men ready to advance, “I am afraid we are in for a pretty bad time of it. But if I ever get the opportunity I’ll make that little brown piece of pomposity pay for that kick he gave me.” “Well, sir,” O’Neil replied evasively, “I may have been in worse situations--no doubt I have--but this one seems rather more complicated. I think we’ll have many kicks and worse to pay back before we can call our bodies our own and not footballs for these little brown brothers to score with.” After a rapid parley the party were again in motion. Phil and O’Neil were roughly seized by two natives and forced ahead up the trail. Two or three times Phil’s foot slipped into yawning holes at either side of the trail, but each time he was dragged back to safety by the natives behind him. “This whole place is trapped,” O’Neil whispered, pointing to where his foot had uncovered the top of a square hole some six feet deep, the lantern carried by a man in front betraying to view the green bamboo spears at the bottom. Phil shivered as he gazed down on the pointed sticks as sharp as a needle, and poisoned, he knew, with a deadly vegetable sap that would kill within the hour. “Be careful, Mr. Perry,” O’Neil cautioned in a low, anxious voice. “These men know where the traps are, and will try to catch you if you make a misstep--but they might fail,” he added with a shudder. A halt was called suddenly as they moved through a densely wooded section of the level trail, while several of Colonel Salas’ men moved cautiously ahead and appeared to work quietly in the jungle. After a few minutes they reappeared and signaled for the column to proceed. “Spring traps,” O’Neil informed the midshipman. “They’ve detached them from their springs. If we hadn’t known they were there one of us would have caught his foot in a piece of innocent looking vine which would have pulled a trigger and sent twenty or more spears across the trail with force sufficient to penetrate a pine board.” Phil half wished that he had not volunteered for this nerve-racking ordeal. After all what did he owe Tillotson? Had not the army man tried to injure him in every way? Yet the lad knew for that very reason he had asked to be allowed to risk his own life to rescue him. Then he thought suddenly of O’Neil. His stalwart form was just ahead of him, dimly outlined in the darkness. Had he acted generously to this brave and willing sailor? “O’Neil, I am mighty sorry I brought you along,” he exclaimed suddenly.