"The fellow looks to me more like a Tagalo. He's a sharp, keen, little business man—of his peculiar type."
"A Tagalo?" mused Lieutenant Prescott. "By Jove, I wish you'd give me a close description of the fellow."
"Perhaps I can do better than that," proposed Mr. Seaforth, rising. "When the collector was here my son succeeded—without the rascal's knowledge—in getting a snapshot at him. I think I can find the photo."
Disappearing into the house, the planter soon returned, handing the young officer a card. Prescott gazed at the photo, then called out:
"Men, pass the word for Sergeant Overton to report here. Tell him that his orders are to keep under cover while on the way here."
Hal soon appeared, crouching behind the trench, and sheltered by the high dirt wall.
"Sergeant, have you ever seen this fellow in the photo?" inquired the lieutenant, with a smile, passing the card to Overton.
"I should think I have, sir. This is Vicente Tomba."
"Can't be a doubt about it, can there?"
"Not unless Tomba has a twin brother, sir."