Sydney saluted, gulped down his disappointment and turned toward the waiting boat. He had been on the point of asking to go with Phil. “You and Avao can get mounts at the consulate,” Commander Tazewell continued, turning to Phil, who stood like a sprinter ready to run or a hunting dog about to be unleashed. CHAPTER XX THE TABLES TURNED Alice helped Phil and Avao saddle two of her father’s ponies. Time was too precious for conversation, and Phil spoke only in monosyllables, much to Alice’s disgust. “We are going to the plantation house at Vaileli,” he had told her, “but just what we expect to accomplish I don’t exactly know.” As he gave a last tug at the girth bands of the two animals, and lifted Avao on to her side-saddle, he looked about for Alice, but she had disappeared into the darkness of the stable. “Come on, Avao,” he exclaimed eagerly; “we’ve got to do the entire distance on a run if our ponies can stand it.” He shook loose his reins after leaping into the saddle and dug his heels into the pony’s flanks. The pony, believing it meant a race, sprang smartly forward with an eager whinny of delight, and away he raced through the gate of the consulate. Avao followed only a few lengths behind. They had gone several miles at a rapid pace, when it became evident that a third horseman was following. Phil was greatly disturbed when Alice, mounted on her father’s Australian horse, a larger and much sturdier breed than the native pony, drew up beside them. “I have learned enough not to ask permission when I want to go with you,” she exclaimed between breaths. “Now, don’t be angry. I’m in no danger from the natives.” They found the road deserted. The villages through which they passed at breakneck speed were dark and empty. “Look,” Avao exclaimed. “Vaileli!” A bright light, apparently caused by a huge fire, had sprung into view not far distant. As they raced forward they now passed on the road natives, singly and in twos and threes, hurrying toward the scene of festivity. At the massive stone gateway leading into the plantation, the three drew rein and allowed their gasping ponies to walk. As they drew nearer they saw that many fires had been kindled. The great space in front of the plantation house was flooded with light, about which hundreds of men and women had gathered. All were in gala attire. Each of the warriors carried his precious gun, with his cartridge belt of webbed material worn jauntily over his naked shoulder. “Where shall I find the count?” Phil asked. Avao fearlessly greeted the people, who gazed in amazement at the intruders. She called many by name and they, like children, soon forgetting their grievance, smiled back and bade her welcome. “The count is at the house, they say,” the girl answered Phil’s question.