Sydney was silent. He believed implicitly in Phil and if opportunity had offered he was sure that he would have acted the same. “But why didn’t you give Captain Blynn your reasons for allowing this insurgent to escape? You must see how he now views the occurrence and a word from you would have set matters straight.” A sudden anger came into Phil’s face. “I would have told him all, but you saw how he cut off my explanation and arraigned me before that despicable spy Espinosa. After that a mule team couldn’t drag the story from me. I’ll tell it in good time, but not to Captain Blynn. Syd,” he added confidingly, “I don’t like that fellow Espinosa’s looks. He reminds me of a domesticated coyote. He will bite the hands that feed him some day. You see if he doesn’t!” “I haven’t any use for these men who are traitors to their own countrymen,” O’Neil joined in as he rode up alongside of Phil, the trail having widened to allow three abreast. “The soldiers tell me he is the white-haired old boy with Captain Blynn. It was he that betrayed the Tagalos. How he gets his information no one seems to know. Did you notice,” he asked suddenly, “the expression on his face when I dragged him away from the insurgent colonel? He wanted that man’s life the worst kind, and the girl’s too, I guess. We’ve made an enemy, Mr. Perry,” the sailor added decidedly, “and one who won’t soon forget us.” Phil gave a mirthless laugh. “I don’t mind making that sort of an enemy,” he said, “but we shall have to keep our eyes open hereafter, I suppose, for Señor Espinosa.” It was broad daylight before the expedition arrived in Palilo and after a formal parting from the other Americans, which O’Neil described as “the frozen mit,” the naval men separated from the soldiers and took the street leading to the water-front. There in front of the quartermaster’s depot they saw the gunboat “Mindinao” moored snugly to the stone jetty. A wave of pride swept through Phil’s body as he took in the trim outlines of his command, one of which any lad would be proud to be captain. A score of curious faces peered at them from the gunboat as they drew rein at the gangway and dismounted. An exclamation of surprised inquiry met their ears from the quarter-deck of the vessel and a second later Ensign Marshall was wringing their hands warmly. “Well, if this isn’t luck,” he cried. “I am partly packed and there’s a steamer for Manila this afternoon. But,” and he stopped, precipitously gazing with frank astonishment at their soiled and mud-stained uniforms, “where did you come from? I expected you by boat.” While the Chinese servants set before their hungry eyes a tempting breakfast, Phil and Sydney in turn gave Marshall the exciting incidents of their journey from Manila. O’Neil meanwhile had turned forward and was at once the centre of an admiring crowd of sailors; his big voice and hearty laugh sounded distinctly over the quiet water-front.