“Take a few shots at that gun,” he ordered hoarsely. The gun-pointers when they heard the spiteful hiss of the enemy’s shell had, as though by an order, ceased their fire and waited obediently for the command which they felt sure the midshipman would give. They did not relish being fired upon and not allowed to return the fire. Sydney’s glasses were upon the cliff: he saw a group of struggling figures about the cannon, and then to his surprise and joy the black object detached itself and dropped swiftly to the water six hundred feet below. “Don’t fire,” he cried out quickly, but the gun-pointers through their sight telescopes had also been watching the struggle about their target and had waited. The lad rang up full speed ahead and again the gunboat sped toward the cañon. “Open fire on the left flank of the hill,” Sydney ordered. The three-pounders barked, and shell after shell was sent against the gathering crowds forming to attack the mere handful on the right, where the trail ended. The soldiers under Captain Blynn could now be plainly seen plodding upward. Sydney’s boyish nerves were at the highest pitch of excitement. He realized that he was to perform one of the most difficult feats of his life, and he had the life of a general of the army in his keeping. An error of judgment on his part would send them all to their deaths. He glanced searchingly at the frowning cliff, now scarcely a thousand yards away. He could plainly see that at the top a fierce fight was raging. The narrow gorge ahead seemed barely wide enough to permit the gunboat to pass, and above it, he knew only too well great boulders were standing ready to be dropped like meteors on the frail deck of the “Mindinao.” “Are you ready there with the Colt gun?” he called loudly to the sailors in the foretop, where the gun was mounted. There was no answer; a glance aloft showed him the crew of the gun grouped anxiously about it. “Jammed again, I suppose,” he exclaimed. Closer and closer loomed the cañon. “Look out for the prisoner,” Sydney cried out as he saw the native, his hands on the rail, about to leap overboard. Major Marble was near enough to grasp him and the next minute ready hands had bound him securely to the rail and from there he gazed up in terror at the rapidly approaching cliffs. “There goes the first one,” Sydney exclaimed excitedly as a great boulder swayed unsteadily and then rolled slowly over the edge of the chasm and descended with the speed of a shooting star. Every man on the gunboat was on his feet; above them now was the camp of the outlaws, and several hundred such boulders were there ready to be dropped upon their defenseless heads. The firing of the “Mindinao’s” guns had long since stopped as the elevation was much too great.