Phil scrambled to his feet and sheepishly dropped again into his chair. His breathing was quick and his eyes dilated with suppressed rage and mortification. At that moment he could have quite forgotten his natural instinct of gallantry and would have taken pleasure in throttling this slight girl who had come between them and freedom. “They would have all been shot,” she said in quick accents of excitement. “You see I can understand a little English. I could not be a traitor to my own blood as long as I had power to prevent it.” For answer Phil gave her a look of loathing. The girl recoiled under his menacing glance. “I am sorry for you,” she hastened to add, “for now Colonel Martinez will have to keep you closer prisoners, unless you give me your word that you will not again try to prevent the escape of the steamer.” Phil shook his head savagely, his eyes on the steering quadrant within easy reach of his hand. The girl waited breathlessly for an answer, then finding none was forthcoming she gave a sharp command in her own language and immediately the four sentries closed in around the Americans, their rifles pointed toward their prisoners. “For goodness’ sake, Phil,” Sydney exclaimed in an agony of doubt, “don’t be foolhardy. We are absolutely in their power. See,” he cried desperately, “the ‘Albany’ has stopped and sheered away. She has given up the chase.” Phil realized that Sydney was right--nothing could be gained by giving in to his rash anger. He saw that O’Neil had dropped the crowbar and had been led away by two of the natives, going as peacefully as a lamb. However his pride stood in the way of an outward surrender, and instead of agreeing to make no attempts to disable the steamer he arose and moved away from the tempting steering quadrant. The “Negros” had meanwhile threaded her way among the dangerous shoals and was now in the river; the cruiser had disappeared behind the land. A great crowd of natives ashore had witnessed the escape of the steamer from the war-ship and these lined the banks of the river shouting joyfully as the “Negros” steamed quietly to the bamboo pier in front of the village. As soon as the dock had been reached, the girl dismissed the guards and the Americans once more gathered about the breakfast table. A few moments later Colonel Martinez, his face wreathed in smiles, left the bridge and joined them. “You are to be given the freedom of the town,” he said as he took a cup of coffee from the servant’s hands and sipped it gratefully, “but I warn you if you attempt to escape you will be shot, and even if you escaped, without guides you would be lost in the jungle and be killed by ladrones.” Phil bowed his head in sign of submission. They were certainly prisoners, without hope of rescue.