He paced restlessly the silent bridge. His men he could see sleeping under the awning just below him. The man at the wheel, his eyes on the compass, and the lookout on the forecastle were alone awake and alert. The hours dragged by. A faint blush of dawn was visible on the eastern horizon when Phil through his powerful night-glass could recognize the chief landmark near the town of Binalbagan, a deep notch in the rugged coast hills through which the river in the season of rains flowed to the sea. It was as yet too dark to discover the town, and Phil knew that the hull of the gunboat could not be seen from shore until the sun had almost risen above the horizon. The last point of land was rounded, and the gunboat’s bow was directed toward the locality where he knew the town was even then in the throes of an attack from a savage enemy. His heart rose in his throat as his mind dwelt upon the gruesome possibilities if the handful of soldiers had been overpowered by their numerous foe. It was almost with a sigh of relief that, as the gunboat approached nearer the shore, he indistinctly recognized the faint flashes of flame from rifle fire. At least the soldiers, or some of them, were still alive. All hands had been called, and on the deck of the “Mindinao” there was a scene of great activity. Boats were cast loose and supplied with the accessories of war. A grim Colt gun was mounted on its tripod ready to be carried ashore to hurl its five hundred shots a minute at the foe. Lieutenant Tillotson, after a rapid inspection of his men, approached the two midshipmen on the bridge. Phil had slowed the gunboat. With a leadsman in the chains, calling out the depth of water, he was now steering directly for the small, serpent-like flashes showing distinctly against the dark background of the hills. “It looks like a big fight,” Phil exclaimed excitedly as the lieutenant reached his side. “These people make a lot of noise,” the latter replied nervously. “I am not afraid of their rifles; the bolo is their weapon. By Jove!” he exclaimed, after taking another long look at the scene. “It is a big fight. I’d no idea they had so many rifles on the island. My fifty men won’t be a drop in the bucket.” He turned upon Phil, alarm in his eyes. “I shan’t land under that fire. Our men are doubtless intrenched in the convent and can hold out till daylight, then when it gets light enough to see, you can easily drive the insurgents off with your guns.” Phil gazed at the army man in undisguised surprise. What did he mean? Was this the same Tillotson whose only order was “forward”? Here they were, undiscovered, with fifty soldiers, a Colt gun and a gunboat. It was a chance a landing party seldom had to deal its enemy a severe blow. “There must be five hundred riflemen surrounding the town,” Tillotson continued, with more assurance, believing from Phil’s silence that he had agreed with his plan of attack. “It would be foolhardy to risk my men against such odds.”