“Major Lukban, one of Rodriguez’s officers, will go with you as a guide,” Captain Blynn informed the lad as he stepped ashore. “He was wounded in the attack on the ranch, but he is well enough to go on the gunboat, and he knows the navigation of the river. He is now questioning an insurgent officer who was brought in by one of our companies; they captured him in a village several miles from here. “Lukban is like a wild beast; they have just told him of Rodriguez’s murder by Espinosa and Salas, so I suppose we had best keep an eye on this unfortunate prisoner.” Captain Blynn led Sydney down to the basement of the ranch house. The midshipman, when his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, gave an exclamation of surprised horror as he saw a half-strangled native on the floor with several others astride his heaving chest. Sydney noticed the wounded major in a chair, looking down upon his victim, a savage smile on his face. “It’s not strictly orthodox,” Captain Blynn whispered as he saw the horror in Sydney’s eyes, “but it’s effective.” “A little more,” Major Lukban ordered in a cold voice, after nodding a welcome to the newcomers. Sydney saw the native at the prisoner’s head slowly pour the water which he held in a bamboo cup between the prisoner’s teeth. The unfortunate man choked, while the veins in his neck stood out like whip-cords. His eyes turned glassy and staring, while his colorless face became a sickly blue. “You’ll kill him,” Sydney cried aghast. “It shouldn’t be allowed, captain,” he appealed, turning to the army man. “Don’t you worry, Monroe,” the captain answered calmly, “he knows within a few drops of how much the man can stand--watch!” he added quietly, as the natives raised the prone captive to a sitting position and struck him smartly on the back with their open hands. The native coughed and sputtered; gradually his color returned and he drew great gasping breaths. After the prisoner had returned to a comparatively normal condition, the inquisitor reached out his hand and struck him smartly across the cheek. Where his hand had fallen, a white imprint was left, dying out gradually, as the sluggish blood flowed back again. “This is the ‘water cure,’” Captain Blynn observed as Major Lukban fired question after question at the thoroughly cowed and now tractable prisoner. “He will exact a confession from him which will give us all the information we need. If you or I did this we would be court-martialed and maybe dismissed but----” He ended with an expressive shrug.