The building was now in plain sight. The wide porch with its profusion of clinging vines was deserted. The long flight of bamboo steps was half in ruins. To the right not a hundred yards distant their horses were standing, their noses deep in the rich grass. At the foot of the steps the midshipmen halted. There was a mysterious silence in the air about them and they imagined that from the deserted building unfriendly eyes were peering down upon them. Phil gave a sigh of relief as he saw Maria, leading little Juan, come slowly through the tall grass toward them from the neighborhood of the horses. He made up his mind quickly. Nothing further could be gained here, and the evidence that others had been on this spot very recently was too strong not to take the warning. He caught Sydney’s arm and wheeled him away from the house. The lads had not taken a half dozen steps before a shrill cry from Maria riveted them in their tracks. Over their shoulders they saw that now the porch was filled with natives who were pointing their rifles at them menacingly. “Come on, we might as well face them,” Phil whispered, his teeth tightly clenched and with his hand on his pistol. Turning, Phil led the way back to the steps, and there he halted, glancing inquiringly at the unfriendly guns covering him. A native, apparently an officer, dressed in a dull gray cotton uniform, walked slowly toward him down the rickety steps. “How dare you insult me and my friends on my own door-step?” Maria’s voice was high pitched in anger. “These gentlemen are my guests. By what right are you here?” The Filipino officer had stopped half-way on the steps in surprise, his revolver held in front of him. Unconsciously he dropped its muzzle toward the ground and regarded the girl in unfeigned admiration. “Pardon, señorita,” he said apologetically, using the Spanish of the higher classes of Filipinos. “You, then, are Señorita Rodriguez, and I ask your forgiveness for my rudeness. I thought these señores,” indicating the two midshipmen with a nod of his head, “were Americans and my enemies.” Phil’s ears were startled by a loud peal of laughter, and he gazed in almost horror at the girl, believing that she had become hysterical. But a glance at her smiling face showed that her nerves were well in hand. An angry flush suffused his face as it crossed his mind that this was a trap of her own laying. But he blamed himself instantly for even entertaining such a thought. What would she say? She must acknowledge that he and Sydney were Americans, naval officers, though they were not in uniform, having on khaki riding suits. Phil’s hand slowly drew out his revolver from its holster, while his eyes were turned now on the averted face of the native officer. “From what part of the island have you come?” Maria asked quickly, the smile of superiority still on her face and Phil saw that to the native the smile was disconcerting.