“Fire when you’re on, aim at the edge of the rock,” he said in a tense voice. The three guns roared almost in unison and three black dots winged swiftly out toward the frowning cliffs ahead of the gunboat. Three dull brown splashes suddenly appeared just under the edge of the cliff and the reverberations died out slowly to an unearthly wail. “Seventeen hundred,” the lad cried out sharply, for the shots had fallen short of the mark. The sight-setters corrected their sights by a swift movement of the wheel under their hand and the air was again rent by the discharges. “Fine shots,” the general exclaimed excitedly as he leveled his glass at the top of the mountain where the three shells had exploded, scattering the rock and dirt in all directions and causing the inquisitive insurgents to hurriedly seek shelter. “Rapid fire,” Sydney ordered calmly and his voice had scarcely died away when a puff of white smoke belched from the stronghold. The lad’s heart almost stopped beating. Artillery he did not fear, if he could return the fire. He was confident that he could take care of himself with those three unerring guns, but this gun of the enemy was mounted just where Phil had warned him not to shoot. He sickened at the thought of disobeying the order, yet there was the menacing screech of the shell in his ears, as it struck the water only a few hundred yards ahead of his approaching gunboat. What else could he do? The gun must be silenced before the “Mindinao” could proceed, and the gorge was only a thousand yards ahead. CHAPTER XIX A WILLING CAPTIVE The sun was high the next morning before Phil awakened from his sound sleep. He had tossed on his hard bed listening to the half morbid ravings of poor Tillotson. Ever before him was the fear that after all he would be unable to save him. He knew only too well the difficulties that must be overcome before a rescue were possible. He recalled the difficult trails over which he and O’Neil had been led. At every point they had been under the eyes of unseen men on top of the mountain and within the range of modern rifles. There was not a tree nor rock large enough to offer cover to the men who on the morrow would assault the stronghold. His heart ever beat faster as he pictured the fight in his imagination: The natives behind intrenchments, cornered, no retreat open to them, fighting with the courage of despair; and the American soldiers, fearlessly charging upward, giving no heed to the danger at the top. On the summit, the lad knew, it would be a fight to the death. The part he was to play had seemed only too simple in the light of day, but now in the silence of the night, bound as he was hand and foot, and guarded by cruel enemies who would gladly shoot him down at the first show of force, all seemed different. O’Neil’s healthy body had long since been wrapped in slumber and when Phil’s feverish eyes opened he was up and seated calmly by the lad’s side.