Silently, like a procession of ghosts, moved the American troops. The rain had moderated to a drizzle, but there was no star in sight to throw the least ray of light over the tropical scene. Almost as straight as a bullet could have been fired Sergeant Hal led the advance guard to the mouth of the gully. There was no challenge, no shot fired by the enemy. A minute's halt; then the advance guard quickly followed Sergeant Overton into the gully, Captain Freeman stepping just behind the leader. When they were two thirds of the way through, Sergeant Hal, who was still in his native costume, held up his hand as a signal to halt. The signal was passed back through the advance. "I think you'd better wait here a few minutes, sir," whispered Hal to the commanding officer. "I'll hand my rifle to one of the men and then stroll forward to see if the coast is clear." "A good plan, Sergeant; but take mighty good care of yourself!" "Yes, sir. If you hear sounds of trouble up ahead then I suppose you'll push right on through." "If there's any sound of trouble, whatever, Sergeant, you can depend upon our rushing through." Saluting, Overton turned and slowly vanished into the darkness ahead. Just as he came out of the gully Hal heard a cautious, warning: "Sh-sh!" The muzzle of a rifle was thrust to his breast. "Noll?" whispered Hal. "Yes," whispered Terry. "Where's the real sentry at this point?" breathed Hal. "The poor fellow was chilled through. I got chummy with him, talking sign language, and then volunteered to stand duty for him. The Moro has gone off to take a sleep where it's drier." "Bully, old Noll!" "The troops are behind you, Hal?" "Yes." "Then march them ahead straight on for a hundred yards due west. You won't run into any of the enemy there. I've made it my business to know." Hal flew back to the advance guard. "Fine!" glowed Captain Freeman, when he had heard the report. The advance was quickly in motion. Captain Freeman was soon up with Noll, who, after whispering, led the advance to the point he had mentioned to his chum. Hal, in the meantime, remained to receive and pilot Lieutenant Prescott's command. "How on earth did you do this?" demanded Prescott in a whisper. "Some of Sergeant Terry's work, sir," whispered Hal. "When you're ready, sir, just keep on straight ahead until you come upon the advance. I'll remain here, sir, if you permit, to warn the men behind you that they're marching inside the Moros' lines." "Do so, Sergeant," directed Lieutenant Prescott, at the same time making the motion for his men to move ahead. On came the rest of the command in single file. "Softly," warned Hal, as the men passed by him. "You're inside the enemy's lines." Then, as the last man passed him, Hal whispered: "Fall out, Gleason. Remain here to warn the rear guard when it arrives." "All right, Sergeant. But this kind of work in the dark makes one creepy. I feel as though I were robbing a judge's chicken-roost."