One hour before sunrise Captain Blynn disposed his command in a single circular line about the base of a high hill; its sides were covered with a dense jungle while a single trail led to the top. Under the guardianship of Espinosa the command moved forward, straight up through the high clutching brush; the men were so close to each other that their neighbors on each side were always in sight. Captain Blynn and one company marched fearlessly up the trail. A few feet from where the round top hill had been cleared he halted and waited for the remainder of his men to join him. His enemy’s camp was silent, but his keen eyes could discern shadowy forms lying prone on the ground. He searched for a sentry, but no movement could be seen. Were they all asleep, believing themselves secure in their surroundings? No! there directly in front of him he saw a white figure standing upright beside a dark form on the ground. This must be an officer, for the native soldiers do not wear white--something familiar in the pose and cut of the uniform struck him. Could it be possible, was it a navy uniform? At that instant the soldiers on both sides reached the edge of the clearing. As yet the enemy were unaware of their presence. Not a moment must be lost; they must attack at once. Firing his revolver, Captain Blynn plunged forward, straight toward the white-clad figure. Several of his men passed him while he stopped to find why the figure had thrown itself face downward in the grass at the discharge of his revolver. The next moment he was shaking hands with three almost tearfully joyful fellow countrymen. As soon as Phil realized that they were again free his thoughts were for the Filipino girl and her little brother. Was she in danger? With the rifle he had taken from the sentry in his hands, he rushed anxiously in the direction that he believed she might be found. He recognized some of her belongings on the ground at his feet, but the girl had vanished. Fearful at the thought of finding them killed by his own people, he sought her everywhere, repeatedly risking his life as the terrified natives, finding themselves trapped, flung at him with their long, sharp knives or discharged their weapons almost in his face. He gave them but little heed, not giving a thought to the reason why he had not been killed, although a faithful sailor at his elbow was the only tangible cause. A score of times O’Neil had saved his young officer at the risk of his own life.