Suddenly from the grass a horribly disfigured face confronted them. It was Espinosa. His cunning gave him counsel that he must control his ungovernable temper. He could gain nothing by accusing these Americans of wilfully aiding Martinez in his escape. “I am sorry to inform you, señor captain, that Colonel Martinez escaped. These gentlemen can tell you the details. I was about to kill him. They doubtless had good reasons for permitting him to escape.” Captain Blynn turned quickly to the midshipmen, a surprised look on his face at the words of his guide. “Is this true?” he asked angrily. Phil felt as he had before the court-martial that had tried him for disobeying orders. “I alone am to blame, captain,” the lad replied quietly, after an effort. “I saw these two men on the ground and separated them, seeing they were both natives. This man attacked me afterward, so of course he was knocked down.” “But it was Colonel Martinez! His capture is worth far more than all these men and rifles,” the captain exclaimed angrily, pointing to the heaps of slain being laid side by side in the narrow trench dug by the soldiers. “He escaped,” Phil said, his throat dry, but his eyes looking fearlessly into those of the enraged officer. “You will have to explain this, sir,” Captain Blynn cried hoarsely, cutting short any explanation. “You are under my command here. If you have deliberately allowed this man to escape, I shall prosecute you to the utmost of my power, and you know the articles of war sufficiently to understand the penalty for such an unauthorized act.” Phil was stunned; but his conscience had acquitted him of all guilt. CHAPTER VI THE “MINDINAO” Captain Blynn rested his tired soldiers until the cool of the evening and then the march was begun back to Palilo, carrying with them the spoils of the fight. The judge-advocate general, in spite of the complete victory, was not friendly to the Americans whom he had rescued from a torturing captivity. The escape of the Filipino leader, Colonel Martinez, was indeed a severe blow to his pride. Both Sydney and O’Neil, while giving the officer their gratitude for their deliverance, were hurt at his stern attitude toward Phil. “Why did you allow him to escape?” Sydney asked as they were riding side by side along the back trail which the soldiers had taken the night before. Phil looked at his friend, a hurt expression in his eyes. “He was armed,” Phil said quietly, a catch in his voice which he could not control, “and I knew he would not be taken alive. I couldn’t kill him,” he added, “before the girl’s eyes, and there seemed no other way. Something tells me that there is a strong blood tie between those two. I can’t explain, Syd,” he cried in confusion. “It may sound sentimental, but the look in the girl’s eyes when she realized what might happen made me lower the muzzle of the rifle to the ground.”