The wound in Phil’s shoulder turned out happily to be but a glancing blow and under Sydney’s administration he suffered only the inconvenience of carrying his arm in a black silk sling about his neck. As Phil brought his gunboat for the last time to her berth, there on the dock stood General Wilson and his aides, and before the gangway had been down a moment they came on board to praise the work of the navy men, and hear the thrilling story of the end of Espinosa. A sad-eyed stranger in civilian’s clothes stood silently by as Phil modestly told how the outlaw had died. Then he grasped the lad’s hand while the general murmured a name which made the young man blush as if with shame. He stood in the presence of Lieutenant Tillotson’s father. “My boy,” the bereaved man said in a low voice, “you have a father’s blessing. The general has told me of your unselfish and reckless act in a vain endeavor to save my son.” Phil turned away to hide his emotion. Mr. Tillotson, taking the body of his son, sailed the following day for Manila. For ten days the “Mindinao” remained quietly at her dock, while from all over the island there came to Palilo to surrender to the general small bands of insurgent soldiers. Gregorio Rodriguez, the acknowledged leader after Espinosa’s death, had sent word to all his captains to stop fighting, and their obedience was instant. One evening somewhat over a week later, on board the “Mindinao” a dinner party was in progress. The happy general, a weight of care lifted from his shoulders, sat on Phil’s right, while about the board were the well-known faces of his friends. O’Neil, barred by naval etiquette from partaking at his captain’s table, in the shadow of the night, stood near, hanging on every word spoken. The Chinese servants with smiling faces flitted between the galley and the quarter-deck. Maria sat between the two midshipmen, and the sadness in her eyes still lingered, but a look of admiration would kindle as she talked to each of her two friends in turn. General Wilson held in his hand two unopened telegrams which had just been handed him by an orderly. The general tore one of the yellow envelopes and ran his eye hurriedly over the contents. “My congratulations, governor,” he exclaimed, as he passed the paper to Gregorio Rodriguez. The native could hardly believe his eyes, for these were the words he read: “Gregorio Rodriguez appointed civil governor of the Island of Kapay to-day by the governor-general.” Rodriguez rose to his feet and strode quietly to the general’s side. “General Wilson,” he said reverently, “this fulfils my father’s dearest wish. I would that he could know.” Then he dropped on one knee and, much to the surprise of the gray-haired prosaic veteran, raised the blue-veined hand to his lips. Maria remained seated, but her dark eyes beamed lovingly on her brother. Then the other telegram was opened and a smile appeared on the warrior’s face.