“I have been thinking over a plan,” Commander Tazewell replied. “This Captain Scott is an American citizen and is sailing under the Herzovinian flag. His mate, Stump, who deserted him, has given us evidence that he came into Ukula with ‘blacks’ for the Kapuan firm and guns for Klinger. All circumstances seem to show that we shall find everything we are searching for at Saluafata. That’s the Herzovinian port, leased to their government, and I dare not send there to arrest him. But I can send a party by land to observe and bring us news.” “Right-oh!” the British captain agreed. “I think I’ll send my steam pinnace to fish along the edge of the reef toward Saluafata. There’s rare fishing there. Have you ever trolled for these big Kapuan bonitos, using pearl-shell hooks?” he asked. “I have a lieutenant who is keen on it.” Preparations were made at once for an early start on the morrow. The distance to Saluafata by trail was about fifteen miles, and by water scarcely ten. A code of signals was decided upon to facilitate communication between the American land party and the British steam launch. Mr. Lee took upon himself the supply of ponies. The two midshipmen and O’Neil were selected by Commander Tazewell to go. “I’ll send them openly,” Commander Tazewell said, as the naval officers rose to take their departure from the consulate; “in uniform, of course.” Alice Lee endeavored in vain to win her father’s permission to go along with the midshipmen. “I may be able to help them,” she declared. “I know the trail and speak Kapuan.” The midshipmen and O’Neil were on the dock at an early hour the next day. There they found three intelligent little ponies waiting them. Phil carried a sketch chart of the road to be taken. As they passed through the Matautu district of Ukula, they caught a glimpse of Alice’s wistful face gazing upon them from the porch of the consulate. She waved them a good-bye, while all three raised their caps in return. “She’s a plucky girl,” Sydney exclaimed, “but I feel more free without a girl along. We can’t tell; there may be a chance for a fight before we get back.” O’Neil chuckled. “No fear,” he said. “A Kapuan wouldn’t raise his finger against a naval officer. Unless,” he added grimly, “these scheming white traders put them up to it.” The trail was none too good for their ponies and the going was slow. At the village of Tangali they stopped and got a black boy, a laborer on a near-by plantation, to gather for them a few green cocoanuts. The boy readily climbed a tall slender tree with the agility of a monkey. “All he requires is a tail,” Phil said as the black boy dropped the fruit into their hands and then came rapidly down to receive his reward.