Phil from his seat in the stern of the banka caught a significant look flung to him out of the eyes of the girl who was seated in the bow, her head bent gracefully backward regarding the Filipino leader. In the rear of Maria was little Juan, his small hands grasping a paddle, much too large for his strength. “Give the señor your paddle, Juan,” the girl ordered, then turning to Salas she added persuasively, “Sit behind Juan, señor. I’m afraid he might fall overboard and I don’t know what my father would do if anything should happen to him.” The outlaw smiled and took the empty seat, taking from the boy’s unwilling hands the large paddle. “Bueno,” he exclaimed, while the two men released the boat, pushing it gently away out into the stream. Under the strong strokes of four paddles, for the midshipmen were both expert, having owned canoes at the Naval Academy, the native boat swept swiftly through the water. To avoid the strength of the current the canoe was steered close in to the steep bank under the protecting shade of the overhanging trees. Great crocodiles basking on the muddy banks were passed, the animals slinking away as the boat approached, their long tails lashing furiously in their haste. Monkeys filled the trees, whistling and jabbering fearlessly as the boat passed under them. While Phil exerted himself manfully at his paddle, his thoughts busily sought a plan to escape the enforced hospitality of Salas. A great fear filled his mind as he dwelt upon the horrors of imprisonment among these lawless men. To Sydney and him it would eventually mean death, and to Maria and her little brother a long and dangerous imprisonment and harsh treatment. But why had not Salas made them prisoners at once if he suspected their real identity? Phil did not guess that the outlaw had read defiance and action in the midshipmen’s eyes, and alert as the outlaw’s faculties had become to scent danger even though carefully concealed, he had detected the stealthy motion of Phil’s hand when he had been confronted by his men. Salas was not a coward, but he had realized instantly that if he ordered his men to open fire, unless the first shots killed the Americans, he himself would fall the victim of their vengeance. So he was biding the time when he would have them safe without danger to himself.