The Americans were not slow to obey Klinger’s directions. Count Rosen scowled darkly as they passed him. The chiefs gazed upon them with angry eyes. Even Kataafa no longer wore his welcoming smile, but his eyes were still mild and kindly. To Phil’s surprise the high chief fell into step alongside his pony and trudged silently beside them; the other chiefs closed in after O’Neil and quietly followed. Fanua, the native woman, darted back to her house, upon the steps of which the count was left alone. Upon reaching the top of the hill, Kataafa and his chiefs stopped while the high chief waved a dignified salutation. “Talofa, Alii,” he said. Klinger went on a short distance farther. He had by this time regained his self-control. The danger had passed. “Tell your captain,” he said earnestly to Phil, “that Kataafa has nearly every native in Kapua on his side. Tell him I say don’t let the English throw sand in his eyes. He has the one chance in his career to do something for his country. If he throws over the English and supports us, Tua-Tua and the island of Kulila might be given to America, and Kataafa will be king without bloodshed.” “I know nothing of my captain’s plans,” Phil replied distantly, “but I will deliver your insulting message. I hope to be able,” he added still haughtily, but with a forced smile, “some day to repay your civility to us in Saluafata.” He saluted stiffly and put his pony to a trot. The Americans trotted their steeds until the little animals were breathing heavily from their exertions. Then Phil allowed his pony to walk. They were passing through a native village. Beyond the reef the first of the war canoes was in sight, and an occasional shout from an overwrought warrior as he paddled came distinctly to their ears. A curl of smoke at the entrance of Vaileli Bay in the general direction of Ukula marked the progress of the returning steam launch. It was nearly two in the afternoon before Phil and his party reached town. In the road before the British consulate they saw drawn up a company of British sailors, while on the lawn others were setting up their white tents. The British captain and his consul hailed them from the porch. “We were getting worried about you,” he called, waving a greeting. “You see we’ve acted upon the information you secured.” Phil stopped and told the Englishmen briefly what they had seen, and then continued toward the landing. Alice Lee spied the horsemen and ran out joyfully to meet them. “I began to be frightened,” she owned. “I am deathly afraid of a Kapuan when he blackens his face.” Phil could now smile easily, but he acknowledged that the sensation of being surrounded by a swarm of excited warriors, bent upon war, had not been a pleasant one.