In truth that had been Vicente Tomba's very plan. Now he gave up the idea, for Sergeant Hal's tone and manner made it very plain that treachery would prove but another name for suicide. "Then look out, Senor Sergente, that when I open the door there is no rush on the part of my brave ones." "Whether you or they plan the rush, it will be the end of the world for you, Tomba," Overton warned him steadily. "I will do my best, senor," replied Tomba in a voice well nigh as steady as the Army boy's. Then he bent forward, pressing until he found a hidden spring. In the seemingly solid stone wall a large block of stone swung around on a pivot, disclosing a larger cellar room beyond. "Steady, now, Tomba!" Sergeant Overton flashed the lantern's rays over the Filipino's left shoulder. Nor was it a reassuring sight that the light of the lantern revealed to the young soldier. Instead of a dozen brown-skinned men in the next room, there were eight, if Hal's hurried count was correct. Moreover, he believed them to be the same eight who had first received and bound him. The most disquieting fact, however, was that five of the men wore revolvers at their belts, and a pistol usually has a knife at a disadvantage. "Explain to them, Tomba," muttered the young soldier in English, "that any move of your own, or any move of theirs to help you, will be expensive for you. Warn them, for I am watching all the rascals at once and I shall not endure an instant's treachery or disobedience of my orders." Tomba spoke to them rapidly, partly in the Tagalo and partly in the Moro dialect. Sergeant Hal listened, watched, waited in keen anxiety, for life and death hung on the issue. CHAPTER VII THE KIND OF MAN WHO MASTERS OTHERS Every one of the eight sullen fellows stood as though rooted in his tracks. While Tomba spoke none answered, but many baleful glances were cast at Sergeant Hal Overton of the Thirty-fourth Infantry. When Tomba had ceased speaking two or three of the rascals spoke, slowly, briefly. "What do the scoundrels say?" demanded the Army boy. "They do not like the situation, senor." "Can you blame them? Or can they help the situation in the new turn that it has taken?" The Filipino shrugged his shoulders. "Well, ask the brown pirates what they intend to do?" Tomba spoke as though translating the question into the two tongues that these surly fellows understood. "They say that they do not know," replied Vicente Tomba presently. "Can't make up their minds, eh?" jeered Hal. "Then I'll form their decisions for them. There's a further way out of this place?" Vicente Tomba hesitated, muttering.