Tillotson shook his head. “None,” he replied, “unless we can catch them by surprise. This gunboat would scare off an army of insurgents. They don’t like them.” “But we shall surprise them,” Phil cried enthusiastically. “We’ll get there before daylight, hit the enemy from behind and crumple him up. I dare say, though, the fight will be finished before we arrive.” Tillotson shook his head. He was non-committal. “News travels fast in this country, and it’s only twenty-five miles by road to Binalbagan,” he said. “Have you been there?” Phil asked, all interest. “No,” Tillotson replied carelessly. “What is your plan?” Phil inquired quickly. Tillotson eyed the lad, his blue eyes wide with astonishment, while a superior smile curved the corners of his mouth. “Plan?” he asked. “Why, just to land, that’s all; isn’t that enough?” “Yes, but,” Phil urged, “it’ll be dark, and if fighting is going on, we may get between the two fires. I got myself in that fix once, and I know how it feels.” Tillotson’s eyes opened wider. He took a closer look at this young midshipman. “What does he know of being under fire?” he thought. Tillotson was a first lieutenant; he had served in Cuba and in the Philippines, but his active duty until his assignment to the regiment whose number he now wore on his collar had been only at a desk at headquarters. “What service have you seen?” he inquired of Phil in a patronizing voice. “Were you in the battle of Santiago, or Manila Bay, perhaps?” “No--not those,” Phil answered quickly, awe in his voice; “only a few skirmishes, that’s all,” he added sheepishly, “in South America and in China.” “Have we then had trouble in those places recently?” Tillotson inquired in mild surprise, and in a voice calculated to annoy his listeners. “Not very lately,” Phil answered; “the South American trouble was over a year ago and in China about six months ago. They were only small rumpuses. I dare say you didn’t hear about them.” Phil’s pride was touched, for he knew that many papers had given full and even exaggerated accounts of both fights, and his name and Sydney’s had been glowingly mentioned. “I suppose I must have been out in the field at the time,” Tillotson explained indifferently, “so I didn’t see the papers.” “Hadn’t we best make up a plan of just how we’re going to do this thing?” Phil urged, returning to his point and being guided by his training at the Naval Academy, which had taught him to be methodical in all things. Lieutenant Tillotson regarded the lad coldly. “You can plan for yourself,” he replied. “I’ve been fighting these insurgents for some months and my men know my plans by heart: they comprise just one word: ‘Forward.’” After the lieutenant had gone to his cot and was sound asleep, the midshipmen adjourned to the brightly lighted chart house to discuss the situation.