diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20563-8.txt | 8802 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20563-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 167494 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20563-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 176397 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20563-h/20563-h.htm | 9052 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20563.txt | 8802 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20563.zip | bin | 0 -> 167447 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
9 files changed, 26672 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20563-8.txt b/20563-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b05791e --- /dev/null +++ b/20563-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8802 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Terry, by Charles Goff Thomson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Terry + A Tale of the Hill People + +Author: Charles Goff Thomson + +Release Date: February 11, 2007 [EBook #20563] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TERRY *** + + + + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Richard J. Shiffer +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of +public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital +Libraries.) + + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: Every effort has been made to replicate this text as +faithfully as possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and other +inconsistencies. Text that has been changed to correct an obvious error by +the publisher is noted at the end of this ebook.] + + + TERRY + + A TALE OF THE HILL PEOPLE + + BY + CHARLES GOFF THOMSON + + + Late Lieut.-Colonel, U. S. Army. + Formerly Assistant Director of Prisons + for Philippine Government + + + + New York + + THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + 1921 + + _All rights reserved_ + + + COPYRIGHT, 1921, + BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1921 + + + + + DEDICATED TO + + MR. E. J. B. + + WHO HAS GIVEN OF HIS + COUNSEL, SPIRIT AND SUBSTANCE + TO NEEDY YOUNG MEN + + + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE + + +The poem "Casey" used in Chapter IX was written by the late Arthur W. +Ferguson, formerly Executive Secretary for the Philippine Government. +It has been edited and amplified but is substantially as written by +him. A man of unusual facility, Mr. Ferguson composed the verses under +circumstances somewhat similar to those set down herein, and with like +spontaneity. + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I THE FOX 1 + II TERRY DECIDES 18 + III MINDANAO 33 + IV THE FANATIC 52 + V NEW FRIENDS, AND AN ENEMY 66 + VI THE LAND OF HEMP 80 + VII THE PYTHON 98 + VIII THE STRICKEN VILLAGE 111 + IX MALABANAN STRIKES 126 + X MALABANAN 141 + XI INTO THE FORBIDDEN HILLS 157 + XII THE MAJOR FOLLOWS 175 + XIII THE HILL PEOPLE 198 + XIV AHMA 211 + XV THE SIGN 220 + XVI CIVILIZATION DAWNS IN THE HILLS 239 + XVII "SUS-MARIE-HOSEP!" 250 + XVIII THE FOX SKIN 262 + + + + +TERRY + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE FOX + + +The frosty silence of the snow-mantled hills was rent by the vicious +crack of a high-powered, small-calibered rifle. The hunter sprang from +the thicket in which he had lain concealed and crossed the gully to a +knoll where a black furry bundle had dropped to the snow after one +convulsive leap. + +Exultant, Terry bent down to examine the silky black coat. + +"Right through the ear. Well, Mister Fox, you're mine--though you did +lead me a merry chase for twelve days! You laughed at me till the snow +came--knew I wouldn't bring you out of your hole with formalin, that +it was a square game we played. But to-day everything broke against +you, boy,--sun and wind and snow. And perhaps hunger." + +The twinge of pain that stabs every true sportsman as he realizes that +he has extinguished a spark of life shadowed Terry's thin, sensitive +face. It was a face of singular appeal, dominated by a queer twist of +upper lip that stamped his mouth with a permanent wistfulness. Even in +the bracing cold of the winter morning his skin was white, but the +clear pallor was belied by the swift energy with which he moved and +the eager sparkle of his dark gray eyes. He picked up the fluffy +bundle and stroked the sleek fur. + +"Hard luck, old boy! But now you'll never be hungry again, or cold. +And I haven't hunted you all this time just for the sake of the +sport." His face lighted. "You're going to be a proud little fox. If +foxes have souls--and I don't see why we should deny you what we lay +selfish claims to for ourselves--yours will rejoice in the purpose of +your end. Every night and every morning you--" + +He broke off as the distant pealing of church bells came to his ears, +carried faintly but clearly by the light wind that whispered over the +snowy stretches of rolling meadowlands. For a long time Terry stood +facing toward the invisible village, his face moody and inscrutable. +As the sound of the bells died away he shook off the spell with +conscious, humorous effort and picking up his rifle and the fox he +went into the thicket to secure and adjust his snowshoes. + +Ignoring paths and sleighroads he made his way toward the town. The +crisp pine-laden air charged his muscles with exuberant excess of the +fine energy of youth and he made his way swiftly across the sparkling +snow that blanketed the gentle landscape, through the thickets of +evergreens and across the tiny, ice-edged creeks that flowed in swift +escape from winter's frozen grip. + +Keen-eyed, he stopped a moment in study of a group of pheasants that +huddled in a clump of underbrush. They played possum till he passed +on. A rabbit, reared up in nervous-nosed inquiry, watched him +furtively as he approached the rock behind which it had vainly sought +concealment. Terry laughed at its ridiculous plight. + +"You'd better improve your strategy, you young scamp, or you'll wind +up in the pot of some one who hunts rabbits!" + +He watched its jumpy flight into a distant copse of young pines, then +went on swiftly. In an hour he paused at the top of a last steep +grade. Lake Champlain stretched her flat-frozen bosom to the north and +south of him. The more level timbered areas of the opposite shore were +broken here and there by clearings in which white farm houses and red +barns nestled like doll houses. + +At the foot of the slope directly beneath him a village lay primly +along the lake shore. It was a square-built town, its limits almost +rectangular, its breadth and width checkered into exact squares by +wide, straight streets. It was an old town: a score of its flat-roofed +structures had been built while the Mohawks still guarded the Western +Gate of the Long House, and many of the great, old-fashioned homes had +stood when Ethan Allen strutted through its streets. + +It was not a snug little town, there was no air of hospitality to +encourage strangers to tarry within its gates, but seemed to promise +"value received" for any who came, paid their way and attended +strictly to their own affairs. + +Thus Terry saw the town in which he had been born and had spent all +of his twenty-six years except the four at Princeton. He tarried, his +eyes fixed upon the cemetery which limited the eastern edge of the +town, to which his father and mother had been carried when he was a +boy of eleven. + +He faced about in lingering appreciation of the blue-vaulted expanse, +then descended toward the village. Whipping off his snowshoes at the +border of the village he entered the main street, which ran straight +through town to the lake front. No one was in sight on the broad +thoroughfare and he found a measure of relief in its emptiness, for +though he did not adhere to the rigid New England doctrine that +governed his neighbors, he found no pleasure in wanton violation of +their stiff code. Realizing that with snowshoes, gun and fox he jarred +heavily upon the atmosphere of the quiet Sunday morning, he hurried +down the street. + +He encountered no one, but as he passed by the ice-incrusted watering +trough at the central square and approached the block made up by +Crampville's three churches, the big doors of his own church were +flung open and the congregation emerged. As the decorous crowd filed +out Terry hesitated a moment, then kept on his way. + +The progress of the lone figure along the opposite side of the street +was the topic of conversation at nearly every dinner table in +Crampville that Sunday. It became a sort of small-town epic, so that +they still tell how stern the elders looked, and how white Terry's +face against the background of black fur which he had thrown across +his shoulder in order to free his right hand that he might gravely +raise his crimson hunting cap in respectful salutation of families he +had known from childhood. And they still tell, too, how Deane Hunter, +flushed with mortification at her father's frigid refusal to recognize +Terry's greeting, checked the nudges and whisperings by calling out a +cheerful "Good Morning, Dick." Her courageous voice still rang in his +ears as he entered the iron-fenced yard that surrounded the home of +his fathers. + +Inside the great, high-ceilinged house Terry stood a while in somber +reflection, then shrugged his trim shoulders and passed through the +shadowy rooms out into the barn. In five minutes he had cleaned and +oiled his rifle, but an hour passed while he carefully removed the +pelt and tacked it taut upon a stretching board. + +He was in the library, reading, when his sister and brother-in-law +came downstairs in response to the dinner bell. Susan and her husband, +Ellis Crofts, had lived in the old mansion since their marriage two +years previously, rather against Ellis' desires. He had wished to set +up an establishment of his own, but had yielded to Susan's pleadings +and Terry's sincere letter from college asking him not to be +instrumental in closing up a house that had been lived in continuously +by the Terrys of four generations. + +They had been among the last to emerge from church, but had come out +in time to see Terry as he opened the gate, and had heard enough of +the murmured comment to understand its significance. It had been +difficult for them to control their emotions as they kept slow step +with the throng down the broad sidewalk. Susan, mortified but loyal to +the core, had set her face in defiant smile lest she burst into tears: +Ellis, devoted to Terry but tickled by the situation, had smothered +his snickers in protracted fits of coughing. + +Terry threw aside a handbook on the curing of pelts and rose at their +entrance, smiling: + +"Well, do you good folks think you are safe in sitting at the same +table with an unrepentant sinner?" + +Susan had been crying. "Oh, Dick! Why did you do it? How do you do +such things?" + +He waved his hand in humorous deprecation. "Easy. It's the simplest +thing I do. It isn't difficult if you have a knack for it." + +"But, Dick, it's no joke. I saw the three elders of our +church--Ballard, Remington and Van Slyke--talking about it, and they +were very bitter. And you know they can expel any church member." + +Terry made no answer save to put his arm around each and lead them +into the dining room. But Susan was not content. + +"Dick, I wish you would explain it to Ballard or Van Slyke. They are +influential men and both are very religious." + +Ellis took a hand: "Their religion is all right, so far as it +goes--but they mix it up with their dyspepsia too much to suit me!" + +As his wife turned rebuking eyes upon him he pursued doggedly: "Not +that their dyspepsia and religion are always mixed; they have their +dyspepsia seven days in the week!" + +She joined in their laughter over Ellis' exaggerated defense, then +turned again to her brother. + +"What are you going to do with that nasty thing you shot, Dick?" + +"Nasty?" broke in Ellis in quick alarm. "You didn't shoot a skunk, did +you?" + +She ignored her husband and persisted: "Tell me why you shot that fox, +Dick. You have been out hunting nearly every day for two weeks and +have shot nothing else, so I know you have a reason." + +"I'm not going to help eat it!" Ellis broke in. "I've heard they are +stringy--and a bit smelly." + +"Ellis, will you stop being ridiculous? Dick, why have you hunted that +fox so long?" + +Ellis had seen that Terry was not to be pumped, that this was another +of his queer quests. He tried again to shunt Susan away. + +"Maybe it was a personal matter between him and the fox, Sue." + +She turned on him a look she endeavored to make disdainful, but only +succeeded in raising another laugh from both. But she was not to be +deterred. Her eyes lit with sudden inspiration. + +"I'll bet--I'll bet anything--" she began. + +"Susan Terry Crofts! Even Dick would not bet on Sunday!" + +"I will bet anything," she insisted, "that it is something for +Deane--for Christmas!" + +In the slight flush that rose in her brother's face Susan learned +that she had hit the mark. But she was instantly sorry that she had +pressed the issue, as she had learned long before to respect what was +to her his queer reticence. + +Ellis hurried into the breach: "Wonder what Bruce will give Deane this +Christmas? He is about due to present her with something really worth +while--like a patent mop!" + +Even Terry laughed. The struggle for Deane's favor between Bruce +Ballard and Terry had been in progress nearly ten years and had become +one of the town's institutions. The first formal offerings tendered by +the two boys on the occasion of her graduation from high school +typified the contrasting characters of the rivals: Terry, idealistic, +impressionable, reserved, had sent her a beautiful copy of the "Love +Letters of a Musician," while Bruce, sincere, obvious and practical, +had given her a hat-pin. + +On her succeeding birthday Terry, after a six-hour climb, had won for +her a box of trailing arbutus from Mount Defiance's cool top; Bruce +had sent her candy. From his medical college at Baltimore Bruce had +sent, as succeeding Christmas gifts, an ivory toilet set, a thermos +bottle, a reading lamp and a chafing dish. + +Terry's offerings on those occasions had been a Japanese kimono +embroidered with her favorite flower--a wondrous thing secured by +correspondence with the American consul at Kobe: a pair of Siamese +kittens which he named Cat-Nip and Cat-Nap: a sandal-wood fan out of +India; and a little, triple-chinned, ebony god of Mirth, its impish +eyes rolled back in merriment, mouth wrinkled with utter joy of the +world. + +The rivalry had divided the town into two camps. The pro-Bruce +faction, composed largely of men folk, claimed for their protégé a +splendid common sense in selection of his gifts: but the women and +girls, who made up the other group, envied Deane not only the gifts +Terry gave her, but also--and more so--the rarefied romantic spirit of +the youth who conceived and offered them. + +Deane realized that both Bruce and Terry stayed on in the dull old +town principally to be near her. This was true of Bruce particularly, +as he was a young surgeon of such promise that he had twice been +invited into junior association with Albany's greatest specialist. She +had strongly urged him to embrace the increased opportunity for +service and profit which the city afforded. + +But Terry was only six months out of college, a six months spent in +futile effort to adjust himself to the theme of the village, to find +appropriate outlet for that urgent desire to be of use in the world +which dominated his character. As the Terrys were of those families +termed "comfortable" in Crampville, he felt no need of devoting +himself to adding to an already ample estate. At his sister's request, +he had undertaken to manage a shoe store that represented one of their +holdings but at the end of a couple of months had given it up--also in +accord with her wishes. Higgins, their old clerk, had come to her with +tearful warnings that Terry's unwillingness to refuse credit to any +one who came in with a tale of hard-luck was ruining the business: +and Terry had lost the custom of several good families by declining to +humor their crotchety unreasonableness. + +But Higgins did not know how they came to lose the trade of the Hunter +family. At the end of a trying day of insistent demand for smaller +shoes than feminine feet could accommodate, of viewing bunions and +flat arches and wry-jointed toes, he had written Deane: + + DEANE DEAR:-- + + I used to think that the true glory of Trilby rested in the + wondrous mesmeric voice--but after a month in the shoe + business I know better. Between perfect vocal cords and + perfect feet, give me the feet. + + The word "shoe" used to bring to my mind thoughts of + calfskin, kid, patent leather. But no more! Now I think + of--well, many things. + + I am glad that your family is not among those who favor this + establishment with its patronage. I am very happy in this, + as it is good to think that your dear shoes are but a part + of you, are incidental to your being, and not a consequence + of drear barter and "fitting." + + I will not be over to-night. But I will be thinking of you. + + DICK. + +A bit puzzled, she had shown the note to her father. Irate, he had +issued a mandate that produced the effect Terry had asked. Mr. Hunter +was acutely sensitive about twin corns which had been a part of his +toes so long that he honestly thought them congenital. + +After quitting the store Terry had turned his attention to their farm +properties but, as a careful investigation covering three months had +demonstrated them to be in capable hands, he had returned them to the +full management of the old tenants at the end of the harvest. He had +then studied the possibilities of enlarging their only other business, +a small pulp plant, but after satisfying himself that the meager water +power was being fully utilized and that the location of the mill at +Crampville precluded competition with those more favorably located +that were operated with steam power, he had abandoned the project. For +a month he had been seeking outlet for his restless energy. + +Deane, anxiously watching his endeavor to fit himself into one of +Crampville's narrow grooves and vaguely understanding his unvoiced +craving for wider horizons, dreaded the break she knew would take him +away. Susan, studying him with the uneasy solicitude of an older +sister, saw in Deane an anchor which would hold him to the town. Ellis +had been less concerned, as he had recognized that Terry's intolerance +of the village was but the outcropping of a sane young spirit that +gauged the peaks and sought real service. He had been trying lately to +prepare his wife for Terry's departure to other fields, as he thought +it inevitable. It was a word to this effect that had precipitated the +tears with which she had greeted her brother before dinner. + +Ellis plagued Susan throughout the leisurely meal, Terry adding an +occasional word whenever the flow of affectionate badgering lagged. +Fanny, who had served them since they were children, bustled in and +out, redfaced, wholesome, fruitlessly trying to press upon Terry an +excess of the over-ample dinner. It was a sort of unwritten law in +Crampville that the Sunday dinner should be sufficiently heavy to +drive the menfolk to a long digestive nap. + +Ellis lingered at the table after Terry had excused himself and gone +out into the barn again. Susan helped Fanny clear the old mahogany +table, then sank into a chair beside her abstracted husband. + +"Sue," he said finally, "Dick hasn't said anything lately about +accepting that position in the Philippines, has he?" + +A worried look crept into her smooth face: "No. I supposed he had +decided against it." + +He patted her hand consolingly: "Don't be too confident about his +staying home, Sue. He wants to see things--do things! There isn't much +in this town to hold one of his nature." + +"There's--Deane," she said, hopefully. + +"Sue, don't be so sure of that, either. You know that you and I hold +different theories about that. Don't bank too heavily on yours." He +drummed the polished table a moment before continuing: "He received +another telegram from Washington yesterday--I thought he might have +mentioned it to you." + +"No," she quavered. + +"Nor to me. Guess he doesn't want to worry you." + +She was close to tears again: "I wish he had never met that young +Bronner in college--he gave Dick all these crazy ideas about going to +those horrid islands where his brother is!" + +"Well, Sue, he made me feel the same way--and I'm a fat married man! I +enjoyed his stories of his brother's experiences with the wild people +over there. It must be an interesting life." + +"You don't talk like that to Dick, do you?" she implored. + +"Of course not. But I think you've been too sure that he would stay on +here indefinitely--I think it will take very little to tip the scales +the other way." + +He yawned prodigiously, rousing Susan to an ire that stemmed the flow +of tears which had threatened to overflow her blue eyes. Then, content +with his tactics, he went upstairs for his traditional nap. + + * * * * * + +Later, Terry came into the big living room and stood in front of the +fireplace a long time, his lean face grave and thoughtful. Decision +made, he wrote a note of sincere apology to Doctor Mather, his pastor. +He also wrote Deane that he would not be over in the evening but would +see her during the week, and made the delivery of the notes an excuse +to get the faithful Fanny out into the crisp December afternoon. + +The light in the Terry library burned long after Crampville's other +lights had winked out. He had been picked up by Stevenson and carried +by that pathetic master into the far places of the earth. + + * * * * * + +The next morning he was in the barn, his gay mood revealed by the +running talk addressed to the pelt on which he worked. + +"Well, old boy, only four days to get you into shape for your +dedication, but the book says it can be done. So you might as well +soften up now--"he vigorously rubbed the dried bare side with some +oily preparation--"as later." + +"What a destiny, old chap! Surely no other fox ever born to lady-fox +can be as happy as you're going to be!" He rubbed industriously. +"You're not for me, you know. No, sir! I wouldn't bring you out of the +hills into this burg--where they kill ambition by preaching content +with your lot, where the hoarders of pennies are venerated and the +pluggers canonized--I wouldn't bring you here just for me. For I'm not +worthy of you. No, sir-ree! Don't you know I'm no good--didn't you see +that yesterday? Why, Old Samuel Terwilliger said I'm an atheist +because I quoted Ingersoll's graveside oration--said no Christian +would repeat anything that man ever said, even if his watch is a +bargain at a dollar!... Samuel likes bargains." + +Working rapidly, with no lost motions, he rambled on, congratulatory, +reproachful, whimsical. Having carried the curing to a point where a +twenty-four-hour time process was the next essential factor, he +carefully pegged the skin to the barn door. + + * * * * * + +That evening Susan came running home excitedly, having learned that +one of the elders had asked that a meeting be called to consider +Dick's case, and that the young pastor had very promptly and very +emphatically vetoed the proceeding. It seemed that Bruce had heard of +the move and persuaded his father not to support it, after a stormy +scene in which he had threatened to resign his own membership if they +moved against Terry. + +Ellis looked long at Terry: "Nothing small about Bruce, Dick. Some +fellows, under the circumstances--all the circumstances--might have +let you have it to the hilt." + +Terry smiled gravely. "Good old Bruce," he said. + +He left the room, slowly, and sat alone in the library. It had struck +deep, that even one God-fearing but not God-loving old man should +think him unfit to sit in the church in which his father and mother +had been married, from which they had been carried side by side for +their long rest. It was midnight when he went up the broad staircase +to his room. + +The following afternoon he dropped in to see Father Jennings, the +gentle little priest who had been beloved by two generations of all +denominations--and those of none. Terry loved the old study, which in +forty years had taken on something of the priest's character. It was a +comfortable room; cheerful in its wide windows, warm with a bright +hearthfire, and well worn with long years of service. + +Terry had found friendship and counsel here since his boyhood, had +been one of the procession that passed through the door in search of +wisdom and cheer. All the gossip of the town came to the priest: he +knew of Terry's hunting trip and of the climax which had scandalized +the sterner factions of the community. He was of those who knew Terry +best, and entertained no misgivings about the state of his immortal +soul. + +They talked fitfully, as intimate friends do. The old man knew that it +was worry over the town's harsh reaction to the Sunday fox hunt that +had brought Terry to him. He broached the subject. + +"Dick, I have wanted to see you since Sunday morning. I had a question +to ask you nobody else could answer." + +As Terry turned to him with somber mien he concluded, his eyes +twinkling: "I wanted to know if it was the best fox ever!" + +And that was all, though Terry stayed to sup with him. Till nine +o'clock they sat before the fire, the priest in a worn rocker drawn up +close to the hearth: the single log burning glorified his fine old +face as he placidly rocked and pondered. + +He had spent the morning among his foreign parishioners, who lived in +the squalid section of the town, across the river. A frugal, +law-abiding lot, they furnished the brawn needed in the three pulp +factories and lived a life apart from the balance of the towns-people, +bitterly but voicelessly resenting the villagers' careless ostracism +of all who came under the easy classification of the term "wop." There +existed a tacit agreement among property owners that no house north of +the river should be sold or leased to a foreigner, and that no garlic +might taint the atmosphere their children breathed in school, they had +erected a small schoolhouse upon the southside. So, sequestered six +days in the week in a settlement that was entirely foreign, +communicating their thoughts in the tongues of the Mediterranean and +the Balkans, the southsiders mingled with Americans only during the +brief hours of Sunday worship. + +In his morning visit Father Jennings had again met with several +evidences of Terry's curious influence over the foreigners. Terry +understood them instinctively, grasped their viewpoints and ideals, +and was the only layman on the northside in whom they confided, called +in to settle knotty problems and to partake of the hospitality they +lavished upon appropriate occasions of weddings, christenings and the +neverending procession of days of patron saints. Subtle, romantic, +circumscribed by alien environment, they recognized in him a kindred +spirit and opened their hearts wide to him. Terry, his ardent young +pastor--Dr. Mather--and Father Jennings were the only northsiders whom +they called friends. None of the three had been named on the town's +"Committee on Americanization." ... + +The priest roused from his revery and for a long time contemplated the +quiet, thoughtful lad who sat beside him. Gradually a deep concern +spread across his comfortably aged features, a presentiment of +impending loss shadowed his pleasant eyes. He reached out to lay his +hand on Terry's forearm. + +"Dick," he said, "there is plenty for you to do right here in +Crampville--what is this I hear about your going to the Philippines?" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +TERRY DECIDES + + +Christmas Eve, the large snowflakes drifted slowly down out of a +windless sky. The dusk was cheerful with the sound of sleigh bells +that announced the arrival or departure of last-hour shoppers. + +Terry, at his desk in the great living room, surveyed the finished +trophy happily. It was an unusually black and lustrous pelt. He buried +his face in the silky mat a moment, then drew out paper and pen, and +wrote: + + DEANE-DEAR:-- + + Some three years ago a mother fox suffered that this one + might be born: denied herself food that he might satisfy his + urgent little appetite as he grew bigger and stronger. When + he was big enough he left her and forgot her--she may have + suffered then, too. + + He lived as foxes do. Things died that he might eat; + rabbits, pheasants, chickens, field-mice. He stalked all + things less strong and clever than himself. A cruel cycle, + but it is the law of the wild, something that you and I + cannot alter. + + He enjoyed the summers best, with their longer days, fuller + larders, sweet wood odors, long naps in the cool shadows of + the thicket. But winter came, with its hardships and its + cold, a cold that little foxes feel the same as you and I. + But it was this cold that stimulated and silkened his fur, + made it this wondrous, prized thing. + + Then I came, and he ceased to be what he was--a hunter of + smaller, weaker things--and became what you see here: a + finer thing--a token. Your kind heart need find no cruelty + in a merciful shot that spelled no pain and that by stopping + him assured that gentler, weaker things will live on and on. + + _And he_ will be glad, too, as not _only_ is he forever + freed from cold and hunger and stark fear, but his is to be + a tender office. + + Will you lay it at your bedside, that each night it may + cushion your last step at slumbertime, and each morning + soften the first contact between the vistas of dreamland and + the less yielding surfaces of life to which we wake. + + So even the things of the wild are made to serve. To + serve--is that not the law of man? + + My part in it? But little: none other than I will have + touched it till it reaches your dear hands. I shaped it, + wrought to preserve its beauties that it might give you + pleasure. + + To give pleasure--is that not the law of love? + + A very, very Merry Christmas! + + DICK. + +He sent his gift, at about nine o'clock. In gay mood, he wandered +about the great house: entered the kitchen where Fanny was singeing +the Christmas turkey: returned to the living room to throw a fresh log +in the wide fireplace. His mood was too expansive for indoors. He +donned short coat and thick cap, but as he passed out of the gate a +scared little lad, a foreigner, rushed up breathlessly and begged him +to come--trouble was brewing on the southside. + +His questions elicited meager information. Excited, the lad relapsed +so often into his native tongue that Terry could make nothing of his +tale. + +Hand in hand they hurried through the village, crossed the dark bridge +and approached a ramshackle house from which a babble of voices rose +in strident argument. The excited chorus abated at Terry's sharp knock +and the door was thrown open to disclose the belligerent figure of +Tony Ricorro, the leader of the Italian colony. Recognizing the +reefered figure that smiled up at him through the falling flakes, +Tony's dark scowl faded as he reached out his powerful hands and with +a joyous shout fairly lifted Terry into the house. + +Terry laughed as the gaudily dressed occupants of the room crowded +around him, and greeted most of the score of swarthy men and women by +name. Tony masterfully stripped him of his overcoat and cap and placed +them in the kitchen from which emanated odors of strange things +cooking. The room was stifling with heat and with smells--beer, +garlic, tobacco, perfumes, kerosene. + +Tony charged in from the kitchen with a bottle of beer but Terry shook +his head. Tony was hospitably insistent, "What! No beer?" + +"No thanks, Tony." + +"What's matt'? Bad stomach?" + +"Yes," smiled Terry, "call it that." + +He plunged into the business in hand. "Tony, what's the trouble here +to-night?" + +Tony's first word of explanation was instantly submerged beneath a +chorus of voices; the excited crowd surged around Terry, as voluble of +gesture as of tongue. Pandemonium descended. + +Terry finally silenced the din by standing on his chair and +pantomiming his desire to be heard. "Now, listen to me," he began, +after quiet was restored, "I'm going to ask you all to keep silent, +and to promise me that no one will speak except those I call by name." +They all promised--each one not once but in a series of lengthy +assurances which he had to raise his hand to cut short. + +"Now, Tony, you first. What's the matter?" + +Tony's face registered his utter disgust. "What'sa matt'? What'sa +matt'? Evra teeng 'sa matt'! Tommor' we christen our bab' and evra' +bod' want a name heem!" He glared at the restless circle which ringed +them. + +The odd wistful twist at the corner of Terry's mouth disappeared for a +moment in his slow smile; this was so like these people, who bore big +troubles stoically and reacted powerfully to inconsequentials. + +He called on several others. All were relatives of Tony or of his +wife; sisters, brothers, several "in-laws," Tony's father, two uncles. +Each had his or her name for the child, and sound reasons for the +choice. + +"Tony, where is Felice?" he asked, noting that Tony's wife was not in +the crowded dining room. + +Tony took him into a dimly lighted room, where his wife lay in bed; +the guiltless cause of all this dissension, obviously inured to +clamor, was asleep in her arm. She smiled up at Terry as he sat down +on the edge of the bed and took her hand. + +Tony stood looking down at Felice and their first-born, his heart in +his eyes. + +"Tony, what does Felice wish to name your son?" Terry asked suddenly. + +Receiving no answer, he looked up at Tony and read in the agonized +contrition of Tony's dark face that she had not yet been consulted. +Tears glistened in the forgiving eyes Felice turned on Tony, and as he +flung himself down at the side of the bed and buried his face in her +pillow, Terry tiptoed out of the room and softly closed the door. + +In a few minutes Tony flung the door open and strode into the room, +unashamed of the tears that shone on his rough cheeks. + +"You all a go to hell-a with your a-names! Felice, she name-a our boy +and to-morrow we go Padre Jenneeng. She a name heem"--he paused with +true Latin sense of the value of suspense--"She a name heem--Reechar' +Terree--Ricorro!" + +A moment of hesitation, of assimilation, and then a hubbub of +delighted acceptance and acclaim. Terry stayed but a few minutes, +realizing that much as they liked him, there would be more spontaneity +at the fiesta if there were none but their own people at the table. + +He went in and thanked Felice gravely for the honor she had conferred +upon him, wished for them all a merry Christmas, and passed out amid a +medley of thanks and benedictions. + +The snowfall had ceased. He crossed to the North Side and hastened up +Main Street, and though it lacked but an hour of midnight, he found +Judd's jewelry store still open. He went in and found young Judd about +to close up. + +Judd, hollow eyed with the fatigue of the long day, studied his old +friend's beaming face: "Hello, Sir Galahad!" he said. + +Terry eyed him scornfully: "Hello, Rut!" He drew himself up proudly. +"Behold in me a new dignity--I am now a god-father!" + +Having in mind the parents' love for the elaborate, he gayly selected +an ornate silver cup for the infant. + +"I'll engrave it for you after the holidays," Judd offered. + +"Good old boy, Judd! The initials will be R--T--R." + +He buttoned his coat and went to the door: Judd was musing over the +monogram: "Richard--Terry--what's the 'R' stand for, Dick?" + +Terry grinned as he called back through the open door. + +"Why,--Romance, of course!" + + * * * * * + +He tramped far out the north road through the new fallen snow, his +whole being glowing. The stars sparkled through the clear cold air in +myriad chorus of the message of hope that one in the East had heralded +to a sadder world on another Christmas eve. The snow-flung star beams +illuminated the peaceful countryside: there was no moon, no light +save the great glow of the heavens, no shadows under gaunt oaks or +huddled evergreens. + +He was in harmony with the night. He followed the sleigh-rutted +highway for several miles, then swung back to town along a +woodcutter's trail that edged the lakeshore, winding through the new +growths of pine and balsam whose night-black branches were outlined by +the white fall. + +He loved the open: there was no loneliness here.... Magic-wrought, +Deane's phantom figure kept apace, matched step with step along the +shore trail through the hushed woods, across the white sheen of open +spaces. Ever, when summoned thus, she came to share the hours and the +places that he loved best. + +Love surged hot through his veins: love of friends, of living, of +youth, love of a woman ... probably his gift lay at her bedside now, +as she slept.... + +Unconsciously he slowed his pace and lifted his fine, pale face +upward: his low, clear baritone flooded the broken woods, carried far +out across the silent frozen lake, unechoed; it was vibrant with the +very spirit of yuletide--love of man and woman. + + Love, to share again those winged scented days, + Those starry skies: + To see once more your joyous face, + Your tender eyes: + Just to know that years so fair might come again, + Awhile: + Oh! To thrill again to your dear voice-- + Your smile! + +It was long past midnight when he reached town, his mood chilling +indefinably at sight of its dark houses. + +"You're a queer old town," he muttered. "You go to bed on this night +of nights--yes, and you batten your windows tight against this +glorious air--and all of the other glorious things." + +Passing the suspicious village constable, he penetrated even his +callous heart with the most gladsome Christmas greeting he had heard +in many a year. + +Home, he stirred the dying logs into flame and sank into a deep +cushioned chair drawn up before the glowing embers. The long day had +taken no toll of his lithe frame: sleepless, he sat long in pleasant +retrospection of the day, which had brought him opportunities to +contribute to the sum of peace on earth and to give pleasure to those +whom he loved. + +His gift to Deane had approached even his exacting criterion of what +was fit for her. He envied the skin its rapturous reception, the +sparkle of bright eyes its beauty would invoke. It was characteristic +that his vision did not carry him to the daily contact of pink toes he +had assigned as its function. And it was characteristic of him, too, +that he did not think of the gifts which had come for him. + +He would see the elders, he mused, and apologize for what must have +seemed to them a deliberate flaunting of their standards ... he had +been a little careless, lately ... he would remedy that ... it was a +good town--his failure to settle down had been a fault ... he would +find something to do, worth doing--and do it.... Deane's friendship +might ripen into something mellower, and then.... + +He reached into an inner pocket and withdrew a telegram, bending +nearer the fireplace to read it. + + Washington, D. C. + + Richard Terry, Crampville, Vermont. + + Wire will you accept commission second lieutenant Philippine + Constabulary period immediate decision essential period if + you accept wire date you will be able to sail from San + Francisco + + Wilson Insular Bureau + +The glow from the fire which ruddied his face revealed the struggle of +the minute before decision came. With an expression curiously mingled +of renunciation and relief he tossed the paper among the glowing +embers. He rose as the sheet took fire and in the brief flash of light +which marked the consumption of the telegram he saw a familiar-looking +package on the library table in the shadow cast by his big chair. He +carried it to the now fainter glow of the hearth and saw that it was +addressed to him in Deane's trim hand. He opened it eagerly, to see +what form her remembrance had taken. + +It was the fox-skin, returned. Vague, trouble-eyed, he read the +inclosed note. + + DEAR DICK:-- + + I am sending you back your present. Father insists, because + you secured it on Sunday. + + It hurts me, Dick, dreadfully, but you know how he feels + about such things. + + It is the loveliest present I ever received--and it makes me + want to cry, sometimes, when I think of your doing such + things for me and thinking about me as you do. I _AM_ + crying, now, Dick. + + Though I can not have it, your present will always be + mine--I can never forget that you were good enough to wish + me to have it. + + And will you accept my very best wishes that your Christmas + may be a very merry one. + + DEANE. + +He sank back into the chair again, sickened.... "That your Christmas +may be a very merry one." + + * * * * * + +Susan, first down in the morning, raised the curtains to the brilliant +Christmas morning, and turned to find him sitting in the chilled room +before the dead fire. Shocked by the haggard face, she hurried to him. + +"Dick, are you sick?" As she sank by the side of his chair her hand +brushed against the rich fur which lay across his knees, and she +understood. She placed a pitying arm about his shoulders. + +"I feared it, Dick--I feared it! You know how he is--her father. I'll +never speak to him again as long as--" She burst into tears. + +Gently he withdrew her arm and took her hand in his. + +"It's all right, Sue, it's--all--right." + +Through her tears she read the pain that lurked in his eyes, the agony +that betrayed the patient smile. She sobbed convulsively, heartsick in +her helplessness to ease this young brother to whom she had been half +mother. + +"That's what you always say--about everything: 'it will be all +right.' When you were a boy it was always the same--'it's all right.'" + +He comforted her with quiet words till the storm abated. Then, "I'm +going to miss you, Sue-sister," he said. + +She stood up, comprehension dawning in her wide eyes. + +"You're going away!" + +He nodded gravely. + +Slowly, fearfully, she asked, "When?" + +"To-night." + +"Way off to--those--Philippines?" + +He nodded, then unable to bear longer the hurt in her tremulous face, +he sought refuge in the ridiculous; he struck an attitude. + +"I'm going in quest of adventure--riches--romance! I'm going to sail +the Spanish Main--seek golden doubloons--maids in distress--the +Fountain of Youth! I'm going to cross strange waters--travel +untraveled forest ... see unseen peoples ... know unknown hills...." + +An odd light flickered in his eyes, as if he half believed what he +spoke. Fanny appeared at the kitchen door and with her cheery call of +"Merry Christmas," the light faded from his face as he turned in quick +response. + +He turned to his sister in mock reproof: "Shure and it's ye that has +not yet wished me aven a dacent top o' the marnin', let alone the +gratin's of the sason! Shame on ye--ye heartless, thoughtless, +loveless--" + +He broke off, laughing at her bewilderment: she never could keep apace +with his quick moods. Noting a tear still glistening he took her +cheeks between his hands and kissed the wet eyes, then asked her to +get word to Deane that he would be over some time during the evening. + +Surprised and pleased that he should ask her to participate in his +affair with Deane, she hurried to the desk set in a deep bay window. + +Ellis, sleepy-eyed, came down with his hearty greetings of the day, +and was surprised to find Sue bent earnestly over her writing. + +"Say," he said, "can't you wait till after breakfast to thank +everybody for their presents? What's the rush? Say, Dick, did you hear +yet what Bruce gave to the lady of his heart? No? Well, he out-Bruced +Bruce this time! He gave her a patented, electric foot-warmer!" + +Terry smiled his appreciation of Ellis' chuckling loyalty and escaped +upstairs to his room. Ellis wandered aimlessly over to the Christmas +table and noted the number of unopened packages marked with Terry's +name, then called up from the foot of the stairs: + +"Come right down here, you ungrateful Non-christian, and see what +Santa Claus brought you! You got more than any of us and--" + +He desisted as he suddenly became aware of his wife's frantic signals, +and reading the grievous trouble in her twitching face, he went to +her. + + * * * * * + +Susan, entering Terry's room at dusk, found him standing at the window +staring out into the evening, watching the shadows paint out one by +one the landmarks he had known from boyhood. Two large leather bags, +packed but still open, stood at the side of the bed. The two frames +which had held the pictures of his father and mother lay upon the +table, empty, beside letters addressed to Father Jennings, Doctor +Mather, and Tony Ricorro. + +He did not hear her but continued at the window, his relaxed shoulders +giving an unwonted aspect of frailty to his body. She tiptoed out of +the room, crept back again to look through brimming eyes at the lonely +figure silhouetted against the darkening window, then stumbled into +her own room and closed the door. + + * * * * * + +Terry returned to Deane in the sitting room after bidding her father +and mother a courteously friendly farewell. Mr. Hunter, vaguely +disturbed, had followed his wife upstairs reluctantly; he was not +quite confident that his decision regarding the fox skin had been +justified, and would have been glad had Terry given him opportunity to +discuss it. In a moment his voice sounded down to them as he defended +himself against his irate spouse. + +"I don't care what you say, Marthy, he's got to settle down and--" + +Then their door closed. + +For a long time Deane and Terry stood voiceless, each leaden with a +dull misery. The shock of his announcement had paled her and she +stared hopelessly at him out of wide blue eyes, her full red lips +aquiver at the hurt she read in the gray eyes and the queer wistful +mouth. + +She broke the pulsing silence: "I never understand you, Dick,--quite. +Is it because of the fox skin?" + +He shook his head uncertainly, barely conscious of her words in a last +rapt gaze at her, vaguely aware that this was the picture of her that +he would carry in his mind through the years to come. Rounded, long of +lines, apart from him she looked as tall as he, though there was a two +inch discrepancy; the wide eyes and generous, curved mouth indicated +her infinite capacity for affection. The shadow of a dimple flickered +high on her left cheek: the quickened beat of heart pulsed in the +white column of her throat. + +"Is it because you hate the town, Dick?" she asked tremulously. + +Again he shook his head slowly: "No, Deane, it is not that. The town +is all right--it is not that." + +He paused, brooding, then went on: "Last night I did not +sleep--much--thinking about it. It's all my fault.... I do not fit. So +I am going away, going to try to find my own place, somehow." + +Tortured by his patient smile, she followed him out into the dim hall, +half blinded by her burning tears. She sobbed unrestrainedly as he +slipped into his overcoat. + +He came to her, his hand outstretched, his voice husky. + +"Good-by, Deane-girl," he said. + +Taking his hand she stepped close to him, misty-eyed, atremble. + +"Good-by, Di--Oh, Dick! Don't go! Don't go way over to those awful +Islands!" + +He steadied her with an arm about the shaking shoulders. She leaned +full against him and in the soft contact his pulses leaped. He fought +to resist the temptation to take advantage of her mood, knew that for +the moment she was his if he but pressed his claim. + +Suddenly she looked up at him, glorious in her grief and surrender. + +"Shall I--do you want me to--to--wait?" + +For a few moments it seemed that he had not heard the low voice. + +Then: "Don't wait, Deane-girl,--don't wait." + +Then the arm was gone from about her shoulder. + +"But I will, Dick, I will!" she sobbed, but as the words fell from her +lips she heard the door close and felt the gust of cold air that +chilled the hall. + + * * * * * + +She was still awake when the midnight accommodation whistled its +impending arrival from the north. She listened, tense, as the train +came to a stop in the town. A brief halt, then it sounded its +underway, the pistons accelerated their chugging beat and it passed +out of Crampville into the south. + +She stood, still-breathed, dry-eyed, till the last grinding rumble +died out of the frosty night, then as a full realization of her loss +came home, she dropped to the side of the bed and buried her face in +the coverlid. + +The floor where she knelt seemed cold and hard. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +MINDANAO + + +The old _Francesca_, directed by a nervous and none too competent +Tagalog captain, maneuvered in the six-mile tidal current which swept +west through the Straits making Zamboanga a nightmare to all the +native skippers who called at that port. Crab-like, she crawled +obliquely to within a few hundred feet of the low-lying town, then the +screw churned up a furious wake as the anxious Tagalog on the bridge +swung her back into the Straits to circle in a new attempt. Carried by +the tidal rush the old tub circled in a great ellipse. + +Alone at the rail on the dingy promenade Terry stood enjoying his +first glimpse of Mindanao. Seven months in Luzon had brought him +countless tales of this uncertain southland--tales of pirates, of +insolent, murderous datos defiant behind their cotta fortresses, of +kris and barong wielded by fanatic Moros gone amok; of pearls as large +as robins' eggs, of nuggets tossed as playthings by naked children of +the forests, of mysterious tribes who inhabited the fastnesses of +inaccessible hills. + +He wore the service uniform of the Constabulary, the field uniform of +khaki blouse and breeches, tan shoes and leggings, and stiff-brimmed +cavalry Stetson. The smart uniform set his erect figure off trimly +and added to the impression of alertness conveyed by his steady gray +eyes. + +In the two wide swings back into midstream that ensued before the +steamer approached near enough land to get ropes to the little brown +stevedores who waited on the dock, Terry had ample opportunity for +study of the tropic panorama. The sea was dotted with Moro vintas, +swiftest of all Malayan sailing craft; tide and wind borne, some +scurried at tremendous pace toward the fishing grounds of the Sulu +Sea, others tacked painfully into the Celebes. A Government launch, +its starred and striped flag brilliant against the green sea in the +morning light, left its jetty and headed south toward the dim +coastline of Basilan. A score of gulls, that had followed the ship +down from Sorsogon, fattening on the waste thrown overboard after each +meal, circled around the ship aimlessly, uttering unpleasant cries. +The young sun mounted swiftly in a cloudless sky, hot on the trail of +the cool morning breezes, white in its threat of blistering punishment +of all who dared its shafts. + +The hawser snubbed, the drum of the rusty winch rattled and banged on +worn bearings to a tune of escaping steam, laboriously warping the +smelly hull alongside the dock. Terry watched the sturdy little Moros +spring into agile life as the vessel slowly neared the pier, then he +turned to look over the town which was built flush with the edge of +the narrow beach, extending each way from the shore end of the pier. +The galvanized-iron roofs of the taller buildings--church, convent, +club, a few more pretentious dwellings,--were visible above the low +foliage and between the tall acacias and firetrees which jagged the +skyline. A heavily laden breeze identified unmistakably several long +buildings as copra warehouses. + +It seemed a busy town, as towns near the equator go. In the street +into which the pier opened a thin stream of pedestrians passed by in +brief review before the watcher: Moros, a few Filipinos, a Chino +staggering under a heavy balanced pinga, two white-clad Americans, +while several rickshaws, Moro drawn, jogged by with patrons concealed +under raised tops. Then a big foreign touring car turned the corner +and drew up in front of the government building to deposit a middle +aged American, immaculate in fresh pongee. + +Terry, observing him idly from where he stood at the rail, saw a +larger, uniformed American swing the corner with vigorous stride and +after saluting the older man accompany him respectfully to the +entrance to the big building, where they stood a moment in +conversation. Terry's interest quickened as he recognized the big +American as a member of his own service; he watched him approach the +ship through the crowd of half-nude sweating Moros who now swarmed the +dock. + +Terry, hastening down the ship's ladder, met the tall officer as he +reached the end of the pier. + +He was a loosely knit, raw-boned man of about thirty-five, of serious +but pleasant mien. As he stepped to meet Terry, Terry saw that he wore +the leaves of a Major. + +"Lieutenant Terry?" he asked, responding with friendly informality to +Terry's stiff salute. + +"Yes, sir." + +"I'm Bronner. Mighty glad to know you. We've been looking for you ever +since receiving a copy of the Headquarters Bulletin ordering you down +here. Have a good trip?" + +"Well, Major, the _Francesca_ is no Empress liner but we got along all +right. I am very glad to know you, Major. Your brother and I were +roommates at college--he used to tell me of your experiences with the +head hunters--" + +"Huh!" the Major interrupted. "Guess he stretched things some. Fine +boy. Wants to come over when he graduates this June, but his mother +says one son over here is enough. And she's right." + +Terry liked the big irregular features. In the steady eyes he saw +something that forced instant credence to the stories told of the +Major's resourceful bravery under difficult situations, a bravery +which had made the name of Bronner famous in a service made up of +intrepid men. + +"Welcome to Moroland," the Major continued. "I hope you like it down +here--I think you will. If I didn't I wouldn't have requested your +transfer. You are assigned to the most interesting of the Moro +provinces,--Davao. You go there to command a Macabebe company. Your +baggage still aboard?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Forget the 'sir'! Leave your stuff on board--the _Francesca_ sails at +daylight to-morrow, and you go on to Davao with her. Had breakfast? I +thought not. Pack a bag with what you will need for a day ashore--put +on a white uniform for to-night. My orderly will take you to my +quarters where you can get a shower and some breakfast. Join me at the +Service Club for lunch." + +Throughout the abrupt discourse Terry had endured the frank appraisal +of the shrewd black eyes. He experienced a pleasant reaction when the +Major again extended his broad hand. + +"Lieutenant, I said a minute ago that I was glad to know you. Let me +repeat it--I mean it. Adios, till lunch time." + +He pushed his way good-naturedly through the throng of Moros who were +handling the bales and boxes unloaded from the roach-ridden hull and +walked off the pier, disappearing into the government building. Terry +boarded the vessel, warmed by the friendliness of his new chief, and +by the time the orderly arrived had thrown a few things into his bag +and was ready to go ashore. + +He followed the soldier down the main street, a dusty thoroughfare +lined with the usual assortment of structures which adorn Philippine +provincial towns: adobe, tile-roofed business houses honeycombed with +little box-like shops in which the Chinese merchants displayed their +wares: square wooden houses set high on stone understructures: scores +of bamboo shacks stilted on crooked timbers, unkempt, wry, powdered +with the dust risen since the last rains. + +Though it was not yet nine o'clock, they sought the shaded side of the +street with the habit which becomes instinctive near the equator, and +welcomed the coolness of Bronner's low house. + +The cook and the houseboy looked after him with the unobtrusive +perfection of service found only in the East. A good breakfast cheered +a stomach outraged by the greasy mess perpetrated upon native boats in +the name of Spanish cookery, and a cool shower bath eliminated the +stench of stale copra which had clung to his nostrils if not to his +clothing. An hour before noon he left the house and strolled about the +scorching town, regardless of where he went so long as he found shaded +walks on which to tread. + + * * * * * + +Most Philippine towns are coast towns, and most coast towns are flat +and uninteresting unless you are interested in their peoples--and you +are not interested in them unless they are of a different tribe than +you have known previously. + +Take a couple of dusty--or muddy--streets, unroll them along some +freshwater stream just above a line of palmed beach: place an immense, +deserted-looking softstone church in an unkept square flanked with a +few straggled acacias and a big convent in which a native priest lives +in weary and squalid detachment from a world he knows nothing about: +line the two streets with an assortment of rusty bamboo and +mixed-material houses which impress one as never having been built but +as always having stood there: sprinkle a few naked, pot-bellied, brown +children staring at each other in pathetic, Malay ignorance of the +manner and spirit of play: set a few brown manikins in the open +windows--women who let life fly by in dull wonder of what it is all +about: add a few carabaos lying in neck-deep content in mudwallows, +and a score of emaciated curs which snarl at each other in habitual, +gnawing hunger and which greet their masters with terrified whines: +spread over it all a pall of still moist heat and a sky arched by a +molten sun. Contrive all this, then imbue every object--human and +creature, animate and inanimate,--with an air of hopelessness, of the +futility of effort, and you will have a typical Malay town as the +Americans found them. + +But not so where the American has set his impious foot--impious of the +dogma that you can not change the East, nor hurry it. He enjoyed the +finesse of the phrase, quoted it, then jumped in to hustle the East. +The old timers,--Spaniards and Britishers for the greater +part--shrugged at each other over their heavy tiffins and nine o'clock +dinners; these crazy Americans would soon learn! But the crazy, +enthusiastic Americans, engineers, health officers, executives, school +teachers, Constabulary, labored on in the glory of service: eradicated +cholera, built roads and bridges, brought six hundred thousand +children into school that two score tribes might find a common tongue, +fought the devastating cattle plagues, wiped out brigandage and +piracy, brought order and first semblance of prosperity to eight +millions of people. + +Young men did it all. The old-timers suddenly found that they were +living in new times, in clean, healthful towns: found that business +was increasing by leaps and bounds as the natives fell in behind the +young Americans with a quicker stride than Orientals had ever known. +And they are the reasons--those few thousands of smooth-faced +Americans who laughingly threw themselves at the wall of immemorial +sloth and apathy--why Kipling's phrase is seldom quoted east of India, +and now not often there. And they are the reasons, those carefully +chosen, confident young men of whom too many are buried over there, +that we have so much of which to be proud in what has been done in our +name for a backward, unfortunate people. + +But we, you and I, do not know very much about it all: it is so far +away and we are so busy with our affairs, our politics, our-- + +... You know ... we are just too busy to bother about those Tagalogs +and headhunters who live over there where Dewey licked Cervera, and +Aguinaldo was king of the Igorotes or something, and Pershing rose +from a captain to a general: why, I heard one of those Filipinos make +a speech about independence and he was so smart and bright--he had +been sent to our congress or something and was handsome and polished +and.... + +Yes, he doubtless was. That is why he was sent: but he bore about the +same mental relation to the race he is supposed to represent as a +Supreme Court Justice bears to a Georgia cracker! + + * * * * * + +Terry had thoroughly assimilated the atmosphere of the Luzon provinces +in his seven months in the Islands, so he found a real pleasure in +studying a Moro town which had been under the energizing influence of +the Army for nearly two decades. He wandered slowly through the native +quarter, cutting down clean cross streets lined with neat nipa huts +inclosed behind latticed bamboo fences, enjoying the novelty of a +community different from any he had known. Every detail of the well +kept streets testified to the strictness of the standards set by the +white men who governed the town. The few Moros whom he encountered on +the noon-deserted streets passed him silently and with averted eyes, +wary, secretive, entirely alien. One looked him square in the eye, +leaving him uncomfortable with the antipathy unveiled, the cold, +everlasting contempt of the Mohammedan for the unbeliever whom he does +not know. + +He walked with lids half-closed against the white glare and the heat +waves which danced above the tortured roads and roofs: by the hour set +for his luncheon engagement he had covered the town thoroughly, +including the beautiful post which had been turned over to Scouts when +the Army at last finished its tedious Moro project. + +He found the Major waiting him at the Club, a large, single-story +building set in a grove of tall palms at the edge of the beach and +cooled by the breezes from the Straits. He followed him out on the +wide veranda built over the water's edge, passing through a friendly, +incurious group of young Americans who sat at little round tables in +groups of three and four. Major Bronner responded to a dozen greetings +as they crossed to a table set for two at the edge of the veranda. In +a moment the deft tableboy had their service under way. + +"Well," began the Major, "you will have a busy time of it during the +rest of your stay--I wish it were to be longer. This afternoon I want +you to come to the office with me--there are lots of things to talk +over about your work down there. The Governor will see you about five +o'clock. How do you like Zamboanga?" + +"It's clean, and interesting, Major." + +"'Clean and interesting!' That is a boost! Though we can't take much +credit for the 'interesting'--the Moros furnish that!" + +The white-smocked servants moved noiselessly about the cool veranda, +serving the score of Americans with that perfect impersonal care found +nowhere except among Oriental servitors: the subdued clatter of silver +against dish and the tinkle of iced drinks was often drowned in +outbursts of merriment from one or other of the little tables. Most of +the Americans were mere youths, though two were evidently in their +forties. Bronner noted Terry's study of a group of three who sat +nearby, heavily tanned men evidently not quite at home in the club. + +"Davao planters," he explained. "Hemp planters: you will know them. +Three good men: they're going down on your boat." + +Lunch finished, coffee and cigars furnished excuse for the white-clad +crowd to linger on the darkened porch: scraps of shop talk reached +Terry's ears, a jargon of strangely twisted English and Spanish words. +Bridges, appropriations, rinderpest, lack of labor, artesian wells, +cholera--such was their table talk, as such was their life. + +The breeze freshened, gently stirring the potted plants which flanked +each row of tables; the hot stillness of the noon gave way to the +sibilant murmur of the cocoanut palms whose bases were lapped by the +quickening ripples. The breaking of the withering calm was the signal +for departure to office and field. The veranda cleared rapidly. +Bronner, watching the three planters, interrupted their departure. + +"Lindsey--just a minute." + +He took Terry to their table and introduced him. + +"Lieutenant Terry, gentlemen: Mr. Lindsey, Mr. Cochran, Mr. Casey. +Lieutenant Terry goes to Davao to-morrow as Senior Inspector. You will +be able to help him, till he learns his way down there--and later he +may be able to help you." + +Terry shook hands with the three in turn. All were out-doors men, +bronzed, diffident with the social shyness of men who live their lives +alone or among none but alien people. Lindsey and Cochran were +square-set, serious young men: Casey, older, but of eager, +enthusiastic mien. + +The Major discussed them as he and Terry left the club. + +"They're three of the best planters in the Gulf. You'll have no +trouble with them. But you may with some others, those who have a +fancied grievance against the government just now. I had better start +at the beginning. + +"You know the best hemp in the world grows down there--soil, climate, +rainfall all combine wonderfully to make it the one ideal spot for +hemp production. In another twenty years it will probably rate as the +richest single agricultural area on the globe--that's why those little +fellows over there"--he indicated a pair of Japanese passing on the +opposite side of the street--"are piling into Davao so fast these +days. + +"The world needs hemp--and areas where it can be cultivated are rare. +Three years ago a little stampede occurred into Davao; the pioneers +are a mixed lot--about sixty Americans, a few Britishers, a scattering +of Moros and Filipinos and nearly two hundred Japs. The Japs are +quiet--you will seldom see them: they stay on their places and 'saw +wood'; they're backed by some syndicate--probably their government. +But the others are lone handers, working on their own 'shoe-strings' +or financed by the contributions of optimistic shareholders in Manila. + +"They are good men, these planters. You will like them. They went into +the fastnesses of Mindanao, braved the wild tribes, cleared their +land, planted hemp, working largely with their own hands--and in a +climate where they say the white man shall labor only with his head. +You will hear all about their troubles and difficulties--you won't +hear much else down there but hemp--hemp and wild tribes! Hemp and +wildmen--that's Davao! + +"About their grievance. They cleared and planted rapidly and have +raised fabulous crops, but when it came time to strip the hemp for +market they found that the wildmen upon whom they had banked as +potential labor would not work. A few came and stayed, but most of +them quit after earning a few pesos. So the hemp rotted in the field. +Desperate, facing ruin, some of the planters went after labor too +strongly, frightened and browbeat the Bogobos into working. The scheme +worked, so a condition approximating peonage was developed upon +several of the plantations. + +"We ordered it stopped. Those planters are very sore, looking for +trouble. That's the story--and the condition you must face, and +overcome. You've got to hold down that class of planter, but at the +same time encourage the Bogobos to work for them. It means prosperity +for the planters, and money and comfort for the Bogobos--and it will +keep them out of the hills: we want the Bogobos near the coast, under +civilizing influences. They are newly won to us and apt to fade away +into the foothills on the least provocation." + + * * * * * + +Crossing the acacia-shaded lawns of the beautiful plaza he stopped in +front of the artistic concrete bandstand, jerking a big thumb at the +dedication inscribed upon the ivy-covered façade. + +"Pershing Plaza," he read aloud. "He was the last military Governor, +you remember. I knew him: a good man. No genius--just a good man, hard +worker: has two traits that will carry him a long way if he gets the +chance--common sense and industry. Wants to know everything about +everything, and never quits working. Surrounds himself with workers: +gives his men their jobs and doesn't bother them while they do +them--just wants results. + +"'Make good or make way!' Some slogan! Pershing, Wood, Scott, +Carpenter,--America has sent some of her best into Mindanao. I'm glad +to be here--aren't you?" + +At the sudden question Terry turned to him. + +"Yes," he said. "I hope to be--useful." + +They had reached the entrance to the government building: the Major +paused at the foot of the mahogany staircase to conclude earnestly: +"It is fashionable just now in Manila to decry this effort to +institute civil government among the Moros--but I know you are not of +the type to be influenced. Governor Mason is making good: you will +see that after you have been here a month. He is a wonder, +Terry,--probably the only man who could handle this situation with a +few Constabulary. Study, patience, and square-dealing, backed by +occasional use of troops, prepared the Moros for this experiment, and +Governor Mason is carrying it forward almost alone--opposing the +backward tendencies of Sululand with little else save personality, +inspiration and a wonderful knowledge of Malay character. + +"You're going to like it down here," he wound up suddenly, confused by +his own unaccustomed oratory. + +Mounting the polished stairway, they passed down the tall concrete +corridors and into the Major's office. He drew up a chair for Terry +and seated himself behind a desk whose orderly array of accessories +bespoke his methodical bachelor habits. The walls were covered with +large-scale maps of Moroland showing location of various tribes, +scattered settlements and district boundaries, with great blank areas +eloquent of the unknown character of unexplored fastnesses. The +crosses which indicated the distribution of Constabulary forces +controlled from his office dotted every sizable island: pins bearing +the names of government agents showed into what remote regions our +trail-breakers had penetrated. One purple-flagged pin showed a +veterinarian warring against a cattle plague in Jolo: a blue flag +thrust into one of the blank spaces of Mindanao indicated the +whereabouts of a fearless ethnologist from the Field Museum: a red +sticker bore the name of an engineer who had been out of touch for six +weeks, running the line of a new trail across the great bulk of +Mindanao. The map was symbolic of the Constabulary, whose duty it is +to know all, to protect all. + +Leaving Terry to his study of the maps the Major spent an unapologetic +fifteen minutes clearing the mass of papers that had accumulated +during the lunch hour, then turned to him. For an hour he outlined the +salient problems which would confront the young officer in his new +assignment. He was all business, curt, concise, definite. He touched +upon the ordinary service activities of drill, patrol, secret service, +supply and report, then took up those phases which required delicate +and original handling. + +"Now, Lieutenant, we did not pull you down here to handle an ordinary +job--you know it means something these days to get a Mindanao +assignment." + +Terry did know it. Only men who had demonstrated unusual ability in +their line had been sent to Moroland under Governor Mason. As the +months went by the northern provinces were being stripped of their +crack men for assignment to the southern experiment, so that detail +there had become a mark of distinction. He had been as surprised as +pleased at his summons from Sorsogon, a poor, colorless province +where he had spent seven months in uneventful, and as he thought, +inconspicuous service. + +The Major detected something of what was passing in his mind: "You +were selected because of your understanding of native character, your +sympathy with them: that, and your faculty for learning dialects. By +the way, what is your method of studying these languages--your record +of three dialects in half a year is remarkable." + +"There was little else to do--and I like to study them." + +The Major noted the slight flush of embarrassment. He reached into a +drawer and pulled out a card, scanning it carefully before continuing: + +"Your qualification card indicates that you are an unusual pistol +shot: it reads 'Pistol rating--two-handed expert, extraordinary in +accuracy and rapidity.'" + +Disregarding Terry's increased embarrassment he pushed the question: +"How did you acquire such skill?" + +"Well, as I had to carry a sidearm, I thought to make it useful--it is +not much of an ornament. After I became really interested it cost me +about fifty dollars a month for ammunition." + +"Well, things happen down here! Some day you may be glad you spent the +money--your skill may come in handy!" + +"On--men?" It was the one aspect of the service from which Terry +shrank. + +"Well, I hope not. It seldom comes to that. But a number of hard +characters have been concentrating recently in the Davao Gulf, a batch +of discharged convicts who served long terms for brigandage and +murder. We have been watching them, but nothing significant transpired +till last month." + +The muscles of his heavy jaw tightened as he went on: "You have heard +of Malabanan, haven't you?" + +"The ladrone leader?" + +"Yes, he. He was released from Bilibid prison last summer and came +through here last month. One of our operatives uncovered him on the +boat--traveling as an ordinary steerage passenger. He went to Davao, +and I fear it means trouble. I think he gathered that tough crew +together to operate in Davao, thinking to test us out now that the +Army is gone." + +His face was grim as he snapped: "Terry, watch him! And if he makes a +single move--smash him! Make no false starts, do not arrest him unless +you are sure that your evidence will convict in the courts. Give him +plenty of rope--but if he breaks loose ... smash him hard! +Understand?" + +Terry nodded quietly, but something in his competent face contented +his chief. He repeated his warning against premature action: + +"Be sure you can get him before you move--he is slippery and has +friends in high native circles. We do not want to be turned down in +the courts at this stage of the game, and it may be he intends to play +the game square--plant hemp, for instance. But if he wants a +showdown--smash him good and plenty!" + +He briefly reviewed the substance of his instructions: "You can see +that your work is going to call for a good deal of tact and patience: +patience with the angry planters, with the wild people. Everybody is +scared and jumpy down there just now, and we want to restore their +confidence." + +Terry had listened attentively throughout the interview, speaking only +to answer questions. He broke the silence which followed: + +"Major, I have heard a great deal about the Hill People of Davao: will +I be near them?" + +The Major eyed him queerly for a moment before answering: "About +thirty miles as the bird flies," he said, "but about a million to all +intents and purposes! No living man has been among them--those who +have tried have left their bones rotting in the dark forest. They kill +all who attempt to reach them, expeditions in force find nothing as +the Hillmen simply fade away before their approach. + +"I don't want you to attempt to go among them--in fact I expressly +forbid it, as it means certain death. But some day we hope to open the +Hills up, to win among them: it is one of the Governor's cherished +ambitions. So learn what you can about them from the old Bogobos who +live in the foothills, and report any interesting traditions you may +hear. Pieced together, the tales may make a helpful contribution--may +help solve the riddle of how to get to them peaceably. Not that you or +I are likely to live long enough to see it done--they are too +confounded wild, too inaccessible behind their jungled hills." + +He shrugged his broad shoulders in eloquent dismissal of a vain hope, +and rose: "I want you to meet the Governor. I'll see if we can get to +him yet." + +He strode out of the office, returning immediately to inform Terry +that the Governor was closeted with the two Moro datos whom he had +fetched to the capitol by launch. + +"They haven't promised to be good boys yet," he chuckled, "but they +will before he finishes with them! His Secretary says that he expects +you and me to go down to San Ramon with him to-night at seven sharp, +to dine with Wade, the prison superintendent. You're in luck, +Lieutenant. It will be an evening you won't soon forget." + +So it proved to be. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE FANATIC + + +Terry, refreshed by a shower and change to formal white uniform, was +listening to the Major's grave summing up of the Moro problem when the +arrival of the governor's car took them both down to join him. As +Governor Mason alighted to meet him Terry felt the magnetism of the +man who had been selected to attempt the difficult Moro venture. +Governor Mason had grown up in the island service, had been identified +with the inner government circle since the days of the First +Commission, and had been retained and promoted by each succeeding +administration. Far-sighted, patient, wary, suave, he was the most +consummate master of Island policy developed under the American +regime. A press bitterly hostile to the idea of giving the Moros civil +government had attested to his proven capacity by moderating its +criticism following the announcement that he would head the new +government. + +Terry was welcomed with a graceful simplicity that made him feel at +home. Immediately he fell under the spell of this man whose spirit +enthused the small band of whites who were redeeming a people from +their prehistoric lethargy. He was fit to lead; the sweep of line from +temple through jaw bespoke an uncompromising force of character, but +was gentled by the deep cleft of chin: something in the poise of head +gave him the manner best described as aristocratic but it was toned +down by the mischievous gleam which flickered, often without obvious +reason, in the thoughtful eyes. + +The big car bore them swiftly through the cooling evening over smooth +coral roads which were laid down like ribbons on the green tableland +over which they sped: they shot under groves of tall cocoanut trees, +past clumps of feathery bamboo which flanked the highway. Dusk was +near when they entered the reservation and drew up in front of a +red-roofed bungalow set on a great lawn facing the prison inclosure. + +Superintendent Wade rose from the wide veranda and came down to meet +them, a tall, smooth-faced man of young middle-age, evidently on most +intimate terms with the Governor and the Major. While expressing his +pleasure in being privileged to entertain Terry, he bent upon him the +searching look of appraisal which is instinctive in the Orient, where +the masses are controlled by the white man's prestige, a prestige +which may suffer through attitude or actions of each newcomer. + +Terry halted a moment at the curb, rapt in appreciation of the spot. +Acres of lawn, splashed with flaming red and yellow canna beds, swept +from roadway to edge of sea: wide shell roads, smooth as planks, wound +in great curves into the dark groves of cocoanut palms which +surrounded the inclosure on three sides and extended back a thousand +acres in symmetrical rows of towering trunks which created endless +shaded glades: turning slowly, he saw the immaculately policed prison +inclosure showing through the steel grillwork which an intelligent +mind had substituted for grim and stuffy prison walls. It seemed less +prison than sanctuary. + +The development of the prison farm, the development of its Moro +inmates, was Wade's life. "Lieutenant, I am glad you like it," he said +simply. "It is home to me." + +The Governor had strolled out on the lawn for a lingering look around +him. Returning to the veranda he eyed Wade and Bronner quizzically. + +"Each of you has too fine an establishment for the barren needs of +bachelors. I wish you had more confidence in the blissful state of +matrimony!" + +Wade shook his head decisively. The Major snorted. + +"Huh! No petticoats for mine!" + +A stolid Moro servant padded up with a tray bearing four cocktails: in +a moment carried them kitchen-ward, rejected. + +The Governor laughed: "Not one in four! An unusual showing, Wade." He +turned to Terry: "You never drink?" + +"I--I don't care for it, Governor." + +A pause, and he added, flushing slightly: "That was not quite honest, +sir. I have never tried it." + +As they moved to the table the Governor exchanged a glance of +delighted approval with the Major over the nice amend. + +The steady breeze off the Straits that blew across the veranda where +they sat at dinner roused the sea into a little confusion of beach +sounds. They ate leisurely, talking of the strange things of Sululand, +talked as men do who find surpassing interest in the little and the +big things of their work; and Terry listened as they deliberately drew +him within their circle. + +It was a dinner deserving of the time given up to it. Following a +vegetable soup the Moro bore in a great lapu-lapu, fresh from the +Straits: if you have never tasted the flaky substance of a +lapu-lapu,--don't! For once you do, you will be forever impatient of +the quality of all other fish. Roast duck followed, with sweet corn, +camotes, tart roselle sauce, a papaya salad, an ice, and pili nuts; +all perfectly prepared, and flawlessly served by the expressionless +Moro boy who moved noiselessly about the snowy table. + +"I want to brag a little, Governor," Wade said as he and the Major +lighted cigars over a second cup of black coffee. "Everything we ate +to-night--with the exception of such things as salt and pepper and +cream,--was the product of this farm. You will be able to report at +the end of the year that we are eighty per cent self-supporting." + +Pressed by the Governor, Wade explained to Terry his system of +handling the six hundred Moro inmates. He stopped midway in a graphic +account of three prisoners whom he had sent out with instructions to +fetch in a runaway convict dead or alive. + +"I didn't ask you down here to talk you to death!" he apologized. + +"But what happened?" insisted the Major. "Did the three skip too?" + +Wade glared at him. "Skip? My trusties? I guess not! They came in last +night after dark, after being gone in the interior for three weeks, +carrying a gunnysack. I was sitting out here, so they came right up +and without a word emptied the sack on the veranda floor. They had +stayed out till they got him--his head rolled out of the sack and +landed right under where you're sitting, Major. Then the three walked +over to the prison gate and reported in." + +A moment later the Major moved his chair. + +The Governor had been quietly studying Terry. "How did the Philippines +first impress you?" he asked. "About as you anticipated?" + +Terry hesitated, then responded to the authority of the kindly eyes: +"No, sir. I had read enough typical stories of the tropics to absorb +an atmosphere, but I did not find it. You know what I mean, sir: all +that stuff about _dulce far niente_, manana, gin-soaked +beach-combers,--that sort of thing. But I don't find it, sir. I find a +spirit of hustle, of getting things done despite obstacles, a spirit +which the natives seem to be absorbing,--though rather slowly." + +The Governor was frankly interested: "You doubtless have formed some +opinion regarding the Filipinos--their fitness for independence?" + +Terry felt the three pairs of eyes drilling him as he answered: "It +seems to me, sir, that--disregarding such baffling obstacles to +independence as their absolute defenselessness as a nation, the +profound ignorance of the masses, lack of a common tongue, and all +that,--I think that in view of the fact that under our guidance they +have advanced further than under four hundred years of Spanish rule, +it would be kinder if we waited decision until we see what a second or +third generation of English-speaking natives are like." + +He reflected a moment, serious, then added: "In short, sir, I think +that it would be a great injustice to them to mistake our own driving +force for their capacity." + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" exclaimed the delighted Major, who had fidgeted +while his protégé was undergoing the Governor's test, "Don't mistake +our driving force for--I'd like to hear the native demagogues argue on +that thesis!" + +The Governor surveyed Terry with added interest, but was +non-committal. + +They fell silent, listening to the dark sea, in its gentlest mood, +caressing the beach: the wind flowed past them steadily, like a soft +current, stirring the long fronds into purring contact. A sharp +challenge from an alert native sentry rang clear, followed by the +crunching sound of a heavy iron gate opening and closing with grating +finality. The hourly call was sounded by a guard, who, unseen by them, +paced the main entrance to the inclosure: "All's Well." It sounded six +times from invisible lips. Terry pondered its ironic message to those +who heard it from within those steel and concrete dormitories: "All's +Well," sounding to those who had crime on their souls, and had left, +somewhere, mothers, wives, children ... sweethearts.... It oppressed +him heavily. + +Then a roar of laughter rose from within the prison, the free and +joyous expression of mirth from hundreds of throats, from men who +found life good. Terry looked up to see Wade observing him closely, +smiling. + +"They're having 'movies' to-night," he explained. "They're crazy about +Charlie Chaplin." + +Then Terry understood better the spirit of the institution, and of its +inmates. This was no dungeon, it was a school where men were being +taught how to live at peace with their kind, how to work,--and how to +laugh. + +Vaguely conscious of being the object of intent scrutiny by some one +stationed behind his chair, Terry turned, restlessly, to face the Moro +servant, who stood just within the circle of light cast by the lamp, +his smoldering eyes fixed upon him. Unabashed, inscrutable, he studied +the white youth unblinkingly: then, as if decision had ripened, he +entered the full glare of the lamp and faced Wade, his master. + +Astounded at the extraordinary intrusion, Wade questioned him curtly +in his dialect. The Moro responded at length, in a listless monotone +that contrasted strangely with the determined gleam of his black eyes. +Surprise flooded Wade's face, heightened to astonishment as the Moro +continued; and as he concluded his story with an expressive gesture +toward Terry, Wade struck his knee. + +"Well, I'll be everlastingly consumed!" he prophesied. He searched +Terry's thin face intently, then turned to the Governor. + +"This boy, Matak," he pointed to the passive Moro, "adopted me over a +year ago: just dropped in and said he was going to work for me. I +didn't need him--you know I draw on the trusties for servants--but he +would not accept refusal: he just stayed on. He is a fine servant, but +a queer fish--I let him stay for both reasons! I've tried to persuade +him to go to different friends who needed servants, but he looked them +over and then refused. I don't know where he came from, don't know +anything about his history: I only know that he is a very faithful +boy, with some grievance against life that leaves him morose and +silent. + +"Now he coolly announces," he paused to again study Terry's +countenance queerly, "now he says he is going with Lieutenant Terry!" + +The small but powerfully built Moro calmly returned the stare of the +four white men, his face passionless, his inert hands and thick bare +feet curiously expressive of a primitiveness beyond conception. +Evidently he had decided upon a course of action from which nothing +would sway him, and he waited until the white men should adjust +themselves to the fact. The Governor's face expressed his sympathy +with the Moro as he turned to Wade and asked permission to address his +servant. + +"Matak, why do you wish to go with Lieutenant Terry?" + +The Moro shifted his brooding eyes to Terry, then back to the Governor +before he answered. + +"Because I like him, sir." + +"Why do you like him?" + +"Because he understands, sir." + +"Understands what, Matak?" + +"He understands us, sir,--the unfortunate. Because he is lonely too, +sir." + +The Governor had been trying all evening to solve the strange appeal +of Terry's countenance: the primitive Moro had understood. Gazing at +the white youth, the Governor saw that Matak was right. The tone in +which he addressed Terry was gentle, fatherly. + +"Lieutenant, do you need a boy?" + +The Major's quick sympathy had been enlisted: "Lieutenant, you will +run your own mess down there," he interposed. + +Meeting the black eyes turned upon him in confident expectation, Terry +found their dull appeal irresistible. + +"He may come with me," he said. "I will look after him." + +Matak stood motionless a moment, then stepped to Wade and slipping to +one knee pressed Wade's hand against his lips in token of gratitude +and farewell. Then he rose and went silently into the house. + +The Governor, the Major and Wade were busy men with large +responsibilities: Terry found ample material for reverie in +contemplation of what was opening up before him. The incident served +to stifle further conversation. The four settled comfortably into the +long rattan chairs drawn up near the railing, each content in the mere +association with friends and occupied with his own problems. + +The quiet intimacy of the group was jarred by the sudden jangle of a +telephone. Wade jumped up with a muttered excuse but before he had +crossed to the open door it rang again, insistent. They heard his +murmured "hello," then an incredulous "What!" in higher pitch. He +appeared at the door, pale, excited. + +"Governor Mason," he exclaimed, "Captain Hornbecker reports that there +is a _juramentado_ loose between here and Zamboanga!" + +At the startling intelligence the Governor's feet rapped to the floor: +the Major jumped to his feet, astounded. + +"Why," he protested, "who ever heard of a Moro running amuck at this +time of night!" + +"Hornbecker insists that it is true, nevertheless. He has sent a +detachment out after him but was worried because the Governor and you +might have started before he got word for you to wait." + +The Governor shook his head decidedly: "We will not wait. Please call +my car." + +The Major's protest against the Executive's endangering himself died +in his throat at a quiet look from the Governor. They hurried to the +car, Wade delaying them a few seconds while he secured three heavy +pistols, handing one to each of the two officers. They found Matak +waiting in the seat beside the driver. + +A sharp order from the Governor and the chauffeur shot them out of the +reservation and into the provincial road. The big Renault roared +through the night, the kilometer posts flitting by like specters, the +headlights tunneling the cocoanut groves through which the white +highway spun. + +The four Americans crouched low in the tonneau to escape the blinding +rush of air that eddied over the windshield. They shot over a bridge, +tore through a dark village, rounded a corner at top speed and took +the grassed shoulder of the road as the little chauffeur twisted the +wheel to avoid a bewildered carabao which blocked the middle of the +highway. A sickening skid, and they were back in the road. At the end +of a roaring flight down a long straightaway they rounded a sharp +curve into a short stretch terminating in a nipa village which seemed +to leap toward the rushing car. As the powerful lights swung upon the +widened road which formed the village street the alert driver saw that +which brought foot and hand to the brakes in a frantic effort that +brought the car to a grinding, sliding stop and tumbled the Americans +to the floor of the tonneau. + +Crouched in the middle of the road a Moro, gone amuck, darted fanatic +glances in search of the Christians he had vowed to die killing, his +eyes bloodshot with the self-inflicted torture of the juramentado +rite. He balanced a great two-handed kris that gleamed like a row of +stars where the headlight struck its polished corrugations. + +A Filipino, unaware of the terrific figure behind him, had sauntered +from the shadows into the path of light, curious, half-blinded by the +glare he faced. As he reached the middle of the road the most +terrifying of all cries issued from one of the dark windows. + +"_Juramentado!! Juramentado!!!_" + +At the cry his face turned sickly green in the glare. He wheeled, +uncertain, then ran blindly toward the frenzied Moro who was creeping +toward him. + +It happened with the swiftness of nightmare. By the time the +Americans had picked themselves up from the bottom of the car the +Filipino's frantic burst had brought him within twenty feet of the +black-clad fanatic. His flying feet lagged to a halt, he stood stock +still in sheer horror till the Moro bounded toward him, then turned +back toward the car--too late! + +The four white men leaped out just as the Filipino turned back toward +them with fear-leaden feet, and in the moment of discovery of the +Mohammedan who leaped in his shadow, they saw the glistening blade +rise above the Filipino's head and fall in a terrific sweep that +seemed to end at the point where neck and shoulder join. Before their +eyes the body opened like a book. + +It seemed inconceivable, but the crazed face of the Moro showed +through the cleft which widened as the victim fell. + +"God!" sobbed the Governor. + +Sighting the group of Americans the blood-crazed Mohammedan bounded +toward them triumphantly, swinging a kris which no longer gleamed. +Bronner had reached the road first and stood in front. His heavy +pistol roared six times and at the last shot the leaping Moro spun +clear around and fell heavily. + +He staggered to his feet and with the same implacable hatred gleaming +in his eyes came on toward them, still grasping the awful weapon. +Then, as Matak stepped out to meet him, armed only with a hub wrench, +Terry's right hand extended in swift gesture as he shot once. The Moro +collapsed to the road, limply, like a wet stocking off a line. + +His race was run, but he had taken one unbeliever with him to justify +his claim to a choice seat in the Mohammedan heavens. There is a +certain impressive earnestness about the followers of Mohammed. + +The dismayed villagers poured out into the street, venting their +frenzied fear by kicking the dead fanatic. Captain Hornbecker, a +round-faced officer, arrived with his soldiers. As the chauffeur had +emerged from his hiding place in the brush, the Governor turned +matters over to the captain and the four drove on into Zamboanga. All +had been sickened by the horror of the swift tragedy. + +They stopped at Bronner's house to get Terry's bag, then drove him to +the wharf. The _Francesca_ was about to cast off, her dim-lit decks +loud with the confusion of misdirected effort. + +Terry sent Matak aboard, thanked the three warmly for their kindness +to him; after a moment of hesitation he added something that was +drowned in a sudden rumble of winch. Two waiting sailors threw off the +hawser in response to a shouted signal from the bridge. The three +Americans remained at the end of the pier till after Terry had mounted +to the deck and the boat swung out into the current. + +As they walked along the dark pier the Governor asked: "What was that +he was saying? I did not quite catch it." + +"I heard only part of it," answered Bronner. "It was something about +how queer religions may be--he was thinking of the juramentado." + +Wade spoke: "Did you notice how hard the affair got him? Of course it +was a pretty stiff sight." + +"It wasn't that," said the Major, slowly. "From something he said to +me to-day I know that he has had a horror of some day being compelled +to kill a man--and the day came. I'm very sorry I didn't stop that +Moro devil--yet I hit him three times." + +The Governor walked the short distance to his residence. Wade dropped +the Major at his bungalow, and sat oblivious to the Major's +outstretched hand, musing. + +"Major," he said finally, "Matak's selecting Terry for his +master--queer, isn't it?" + +"Huh!" growled the Major, "I would go with him myself--anywhere!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +NEW FRIENDS, AND AN ENEMY + + +The _Francesca_, no slower and no dirtier than most of the other +steamers which ply the inter-island trade routes, had waddled all +night and all day through the Celebes Sea. Afternoon found her +laboring over a becalmed mirror of sea, past rippled reefs, through +clusters of little coral islands from which straggle-plumed palms +raised wry fronds in anemic defiance of inhospitable, root resisting +soil. Mindanao lay to the west and south, vast, mysterious. + +Terry stood alone at the forward end of the small promenade deck +watching the third class passengers, who, though still manifesting the +uneasiness of the Malay landsman at sea, were comfortably sprawled +upon the dirty hatch covers enjoying the seven-mile breeze created by +the movement of the vessel through the still atmosphere. Upon the +cooler side of the upper deck the first class passengers had disposed +themselves under the once-white awning. Two natives, a Tagalog planter +named Ledesma and his big-eyed, full-bosomed daughter, had withdrawn +themselves from the whites and were seated in conscious dignity near +the aft rail. Four Americans were grouped up forward, stretched out in +full length steamer chairs in the complete physical comfort born of a +cooling evening after a blistering day. + +Lindsey reached out to pull up an extra chair, beckoned Terry to join +them and introduced him to the fourth member of the group, naming him +as Sears. + +He was a big man, heavy-set, a bit untidy of dress and beard: his face +was flushed, and he answered Terry's pleasant salutation with a +mattered growl. Lindsey moved in his chair, uneasily. + +"Lieutenant," he said, "we want to get acquainted with you. We shall +see much of each other in Davao." + +Before Terry could respond a harsh voice broke in: "Yes, none of us +are stuck on ourselves down here!" + +The words fell cold. Sensing the purpose to offend, Terry straightened +in his chair to face Sears. He met his surly stare squarely: their +eyes battled, but under the level gaze Sears' bloodshot eyes wavered +and lowered, the flush deepening angrily with his confusion. + +Lindsey hastily summoned the deckboy to take their orders and by the +time he returned with the drinks the constraint had abated. Sears, the +only one who had ordered whiskey, settled back in his chair in sullen +relief from a situation not quite to his liking. Lindsey raised his +glass to Terry. + +"To your arrival among us," he offered, pleasantly. + +"To you all, sir," Terry responded. + +"More hemp!" suggested Cochran. + +Little Casey attested to his passion: "To breeds and breeders and +breeding!" he grinned: it was his never-failing toast at the Davao +Club. + +They waited a moment for Sears, but he had gulped his drink. + +It was the enthusiastic Casey who first spoke: "Lieutenant, and when +do you think you can come down to my place? I want you to see my +Berkshire boar and my two American mares!" + +Cochran smiled at him, affectionately: everybody liked Casey for his +wild enthusiasms. His latest hobby was the importation of blooded +animals to cross with native stock. + +"Casey," said Cochran, "if you would pay half as much attention to +your plantation as you do to your mares and that old grunter, you'd +get somewhere!" + +Casey snorted: "Sure, and in about three months I'll have a colt to +show you--then you'll sing another tune! And wait till I get some +half-breed pigs--instead of the hollow-backed scrawny things we've got +now--then you'll admit that Casey was the boy!" + +Casey was more or less of a character in the Gulf. His words flew so +fast they overran each other in effort to keep abreast of his racing +ideas. Thoroughly respected for his sterling character, he was made +the target of much good-natured hilarity because of his constant +hobby-riding and the rushing speech that made him almost incoherent. +His mares and boar had cost him money that could better have gone into +plantation improvements. + +The conversation, drifting fitfully, touched upon a new stripping +machine which Lindsey had purchased in Manila: he was bringing it down +in the hold of the _Francesca_. + +"I watched them load it," he declared. "I took no chances in being shy +a necessary bolt or belt. I'll have it set up in a couple of weeks and +if it works as well in the field as it did in the agent's +warehouse--no more labor troubles for me--no more hemp rotting in the +ground for lack of strippers!" + +Cochran was mildly pessimistic. He had seen too many other heralded +inventions which worked well experimentally but failed in the hemp +fields. Of course Casey was hopeful--it was his nature. + +Sears broke his long silence: "Labor troubles, labor shortage! +Hell!--there's plenty of labor in the Gulf--if only the Government +wasn't always hornin' in on us!" + +Terry knew the remark was aimed at him but refrained from comment. +Sears mistook his silence. + +"But no meddlin' government is goin' to interfere with me! I'm goin' +to run my own place from now on--and get my labor where I please--and +how I please!" + +As this elicited no response from the patient officer he continued +despite Lindsey's distressed signals. Emboldened, he turned directly +to Terry. + +"I suppose," he snarled, "that you were sent down to be the little +fairy god-father to the Bogobos--to protect the poor heathen from the +awful planters who want to make them work. No?" + +Terry stirred. "Mr. Sears, I am instructed to protect the Bogobos from +any oppression--and to aid the planters in every legitimate way. I +hope to do both." + +Sears' passion seemed fed by the conciliatory tone. Terry studied the +convulsed face and through the thick veil of rage saw the lines of +worry that had aged him prematurely: the black hair was streaked with +gray and his hands were thickened and stained with toil. Moved by a +quick sympathy Terry spoke again: + +"Mr. Sears, this is no time to discuss the matter. In a week or so I +will come to see you and--" + +Sears interrupted in a voice hoarse with anger: "Terry, if any +government man comes--snoopin' round my place--I'll--I'll--he will +never snoop again!" + +In the tense silence that followed the challenge Lindsey bit clean +through his cigar. Terry's answer was so long in coming that the trio +of Americans who listened experienced something of the faint qualm +which sickens a man when he witnesses another's backing-down. Finally +he spoke, slowly, his measured words scarcely audible above the +muffled beat of the propeller. + +"Sears, I am coming to your place first. I will come within a week." + +Sears jumped to his feet, shaking with the hatred he had conceived for +the young officer. Terry rose easily, looking frail in comparison with +the burly figure opposing him, but he surveyed Sears steadily, +unafraid, and not unfriendly. + +Cochran coughed loudly, and again. Casey nervously undid a shoelace, +retieing it with meticulous care. Lindsey rose with studied +leisureliness and stood at the rail near Sears, ready. + +But the ship's bell rang out the dinner hour, a waiting Visayan +steward stepped out on the deck hammering a Chinese dinner gong, and +in the strident din the crisis passed. Lindsey lingered to speak with +Terry after the others had passed below. + +"I'm very sorry, Lieutenant. Sears is a rough fellow, but he is +half-crazed with worry. He's really not a bad _hombre_." + +Terry nodded: "I can see that he is worried about something." + +"It's his plantation. He has invested what little money he had in it, +has worked hard for three years, and now that he has his first big +crop he can't harvest it--the Bogobos won't work for him. He is pretty +rough with them, I guess--but if he doesn't harvest this crop he's +ruined. He's in debt--and pretty desperate." + +He paused, a deeper concern crept into his face: "Lieutenant," he said +earnestly, "can't you stay away from his place--a while--till he gets +his hemp cut and stripped? He is really desperate--and always packs a +gun." + +Terry smiled his gratitude. "Lindsey, I am much obliged to you. You +need not worry about it." + + * * * * * + +Neither Sears nor Lindsey were of the group which assembled on deck +after dinner to enjoy the brilliancy of the swift sunset. The ship had +swung through Sarangani Channel and was paralleling the west coast due +north toward Davao. The red glory of the dying sun tinted the waters +of the Gulf to the line of palm-fringed beach which edged the distant +shoreline. From the shore the land sloped gently to the west and +north, mile after mile of primeval jungle broken here and there where +brush and thorn and creeper had yielded to man's demand for more and +more hemp. Far inland the steady rise persisted, grew more abrupt and +more heavily timbered, terminating in the far interior in a dim and +mighty mountain whose dark-wooded slopes and misted crest dominated +the Gulf: the red orb of the sun had dropped behind this towering +summit. + +Cochran pointed up at the distant mountain: "Mount Apo." + +Terry nodded: "Where the Hill People live?" + +"Yes,--where they are supposed to live: no one really knows ... you +will hear all sorts of stories." + +The shadows which lurked upon Mount Apo descended over the lower +slopes, then enfolded the Gulf. The lights on the steamer shone +murkily. The three lay back watching the stars brighten overhead. For +a long time nothing was heard but the querulous mutterings of the old +boat as she waddled on her way. + +Terry broke the silence: "Where is Lindsey?" + +Cochran answered quickly to head off the more explicit Casey: "Oh, +he's busy--busy with Sears." + +Terry understood. Cochran sparred for an opening in the silence his +friendship for Sears made embarrassing. + +"Lieutenant, you are likely to have work for your soldiers pretty +soon. There's a rough outfit gathering down here in the Gulf--though +I imagine Bronner told you all about it." + +"He told me something of it, but I would like to hear more." + +"Well, I don't know much about it, excepting that a score or more of +tough characters have come down in the past two months. They settled +on a mangy plantation up the coast, north of Davao, but they aren't +working: just loafing around all day. They seem to be waiting for +something--or somebody. The natives are scared, and the whites don't +feel any too good about it either! You know we are scattered all over +the Gulf--everybody a mile or more away from his neighbors--and that +means a mile of jungle." + +Casey flared up: "We ought to run 'em out--they're no good, probably +carabao thieves or worse--" + +"How worse?" grinned Cochran. "Horse thieves--or pig thieves?" + +Casey did not mind being ragged by his friends. He persisted: +"Lieutenant, you ought to run 'em out as undesirables or under the +vagabond law! They're no good--they won't work--and they're the +toughest lookin' lot I ever did see! Sure and if I had my way I'd toss +the lot into Sears' crocodile hole--the dirty, low-lived, shiftless +lot of 'em!" + +Terry was interested: "Sears' crocodile hole?" he asked. + +Cochran laughingly explained: "It's more or less of a joke between +Sears and Lindsey: each has a hoodoo on his place that makes it harder +to get laborers. The Bogobos fear a great snake they swear haunts +Lindsey's woods, and none of them wants to go near a pool on Sears' +places just below the ford--they claim it is the home of a monstrous +crocodile, thirty feet long. No white man has ever seen either; it's a +big joke in a way--but a costly one for them as it makes the wild men +give their places a wide berth." + +"What have they done about it?" + +"Everything. Got up hunting parties--stalked the places for hours and +days, tried to convince the natives that it is all bosh. But they +insist it's all true, and stay away--and loss of man power means loss +of money they both need this year. Both of them think the stories are +just the usual Bogobo exaggerations." + +Terry thought Cochran not quite convinced: "What do you think?" + +"I? Oh, I don't know. It's hard to swallow the stories--man-eating +snakes and crocodiles sound all right on the lips of the old Spaniards +but where our flag flies things seem to sober down. Yet I've usually +found that back of all these Bogobo tales there is an element of +truth: and two years ago when I was clearing my place I shot an +eighteen-foot python. Stumbled on it sleeping--glad it was!" + +The evening monsoon had set in, rippling the surface of the sea and +humming its cooling refrain through the rigging. Casey yawned heavily +and went below to seek the planter's early sleep. Cochran remained +with Terry for a half-hour, enlightening him with a running talk of +the problems confronting the planters. He was well educated, +progressive, and backed by ample family means had developed the best +holding in the Gulf. He told Terry that on this trip he had succeeded +in persuading thirty timid Visayan families to settle upon his +plantation despite their native fear of all things Mindanaoan, and +that his profits for the year would return him sixty per cent of the +capital he had invested in his place. + +"You will soon understand conditions, Lieutenant," he declared as he +rose to go below. "Most of the planters need labor, and they need +capital." He threw his cigar butt over the rail, debating the ethics +of uttering what might be thought a criticism of his associates. "And +they need farming intelligence most--too many of them were army men or +government men before coming down here, yet they tackle a highly +specialized form of tropical agriculture with utter confidence! They +aren't farmers--they're just heroes!" + +He half-turned to go, hesitated: "Lieutenant, you're going to like it +down here--because we're going to like you. Now, of course it's none +of my business, but if I were you I would keep away from Sears' +place--he will make his threat good. He has it in him to become a +pretty bad man--but as I say, it's none of my business. Goodnight, +sir." + +After Cochran had gone, Terry, sleepless, slowly walked the gently +rolling deck. Ledesma stood at the rail near the forward lifeboat +gazing into the soft shadows which shrouded the muttering ship. At +Terry's quiet approach he turned to address him abstractedly in the +liquid Spanish of cultured Filipinos. + +"Buenas Noches, Seńor Teniente." + +Terry answered in the same tongue: "Good Evening, Seńor Ledesma. A +fine night." + +The natives' vague fear of the dark--wrought into instinct by a +thousand generations of ancestors who crouched at night around +flickering campfires in jungles through which crept hostile men and +marauding beasts--had fastened upon him, stripping him of the thin +veneer of civilization the Spaniards had laid but lightly over the +Malayan barbarism. He shifted uneasily, looked out over the starlit +sea. + +"Teniente," he murmured, "I like not the night. The dead rise ... some +sing ... some complain ... drift through the black mists searching for +those they have long lost ... the vampires seek for unprotected +children.... I like not the night...." + +Lost in the ghastly realms of native ghostlore, he ignored the +American. Terry rounded the deck once and when he came again to where +Ledesma had stood he found him gone to seek the cheer of lighted +cabin. Terry stopped at the forward rail, his face upturned to the big +stars which burned in the soft depths of the warm sky: the Southern +Cross poised just over the crest of Apo. Below, on the black sea, the +thrust of the vessel threw up a great welt which bordered the wedge of +disturbed waters: phosphorescence gleamed like great wet stars. The +tips of cigarettes glowed on the forward deck where members of the +crew lay prone, exchanging occasional words in the hushed voices races +not far from nature use in the still hours of the night. + +The morning would find him in a strange place, among strangers ... he +leaned upon the rail in a sudden excess of yearning for those whom he +loved, summoned the spirits of those who loved him. They came to him +through the night--Susan fretting, Ellis affectionately gruff, Enrico +boisterously cheerful, Father Jennings wise, patient, watchful. +Another, fairer, unutterably dear, hovered near him: he strove, as of +old, to bridge the gap--and was baffled, as of old. + +The eight bells of midnight roused him from his dejected reverie: he +straightened from the rail. The Cross had dipped into the clouded +crest: miles to the west a shorefire bit into the black mantle that +draped the Gulf. The low wailing of an infant and the guttural +endeavors of the mother to soothe it came up from the forward deck +where the native passengers lay sprawled in the profound slumber of +the Malay: pacified, it slept again, then the night was still but for +the soft sounds of displaced waters and the creakings of the ship's +old joints. + + * * * * * + +As he passed along the narrow, ill-lighted passage toward his cabin he +heard a voice raised in ugly imprecation: + +"I'll get him if he comes, the ---- upstart! Just let him show his +face on my place, by ----, I'll fix him!" + +It was Sears' voice. As he felt his way down the dark corridor, he +heard Lindsey's low tones, reproachful, conciliatory. + +A few steps further brought him near Sears' door. Suddenly he +distinguished a figure outlined against the door, listening. As a +match flared in Terry's fingers, the native whirled. + +It was Matak. He followed Terry to his cabin, unabashed. + +"Master," he said simply, "he talk about you. He make fight talk--kill +talk--so I listen." + +The seed of his loyalty fell on ground furrowed by the lonely hours on +deck. Shame at having given way to a great depression swept over +Terry--friends were in the making, this splendid friend already made +... and he had come to serve, not to seek.... He smiled into the +worshiping black eyes. + +"It's all right, Matak. You do not understand. You go to your quarters +and get some sleep." + +The Moro lingered. "Anything more, master?" + +"Yes, Matak. Don't call me 'master': call me 'lieutenant.' + +"Yes, master." He left the cabin. + +Terry, always a light sleeper, was awakened toward morning by a slight +sound outside his door. Looking out into the dim corridor he saw that +Matak was standing guard over his slumbers, armed with a big bolo +whose naked length gleamed viciously in the semi-darkness. + +Touched by the devotion and realizing the futility of trying to drive +him from his vigil, Terry lay back on the pillow, the rhythmic beat of +the propeller in his ears. Asleep, he dreamed, and the chug of the +screw became the beat of an engine bearing him away from the home of +his fathers. + +The Moro heard the restless tossing and stepped silently into the +little stateroom, his young-old eyes fastened upon the wistful lines +that marked the competent young face. While he stood brooding over his +young master the dawn streaked through the open porthole, and a soft +splash sounded from up forward as the ship dropped her roped anchor. +They were off Davao. + +Terry had come into port. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE LAND OF HEMP + + +In three months the Gulf had laid its spell upon Terry. He had come to +love the great slopes, from the sandy coastline to the last swift +grades to Apo's distant top, the loveliness of the wind-tossed palms +which fringed the water's edge, the sparkle of the ocean's blue +expanse and its quick response to moods of sun and wind. + +During the noontime hours the sun was blazing hot but he could order +his work so as to avoid exposure. Out at daybreak, he usually +accomplished the duties of the day during the cool morning hours, +reading through the siesta hours in the coolness of his great open +house. + +Seldom did the routine of his work--the drill, the sifting of patrol +reports, the minutiae of the service--overreach into the afternoon +hours: then he was free to range the country, to learn its trails and +towns, its people and its spirit. His big gray pony had become a +familiar sight in every village, on nearly every plantation. Sometimes +he was gone upon two-day trips up or down the coast, or riding the +narrow trails through the deep green shade of the woods, his Stetson +seldom touched by direct sunlight. + +There was a never-ending pleasure in the hemp fields, great sweeps of +tall abaca plants glinting in the sun: and in the sluggish, useful +river which drained the levels, its turbid bosom bearing a few silent +native craft, its oily depths suggesting a basis for the legends of +huge crocodiles which no white man had ever seen. + +He worked hard, but it was not all work. Many an early evening found +him out on the broad Gulf in an outrigger canoe he had learned to +handle with native skill, sometimes with Matak, oftener with Mercado, +the first sergeant of his Macabebe company. Sometimes, when the +surface was calm, he spent wonderful hours in studying the cool depths +of the waters, the lee-shore coral ledges which bore fairy gardens of +oceanic flora, brilliant-hued, weird-shaped, swaying gently in the +tidal current: strange forms of sea-life moved among the marine +growths,--some beautiful in form and color, others hideous. Once, +while he watched a school of smaller fish playing around a huge +sea-turtle, they disappeared as if by signal and the tortoise drew in +his scaled head and sank to rest on the bottom as a swordfish swam +majestically over the spot, then darted into deeper waters. There were +clams as large as washtubs. + +Often, while Mercado--or Matak--paddled, he trolled a flashing bait to +lure the gamefish which swarmed in the depths. Rarely did such an +evening pass without a long fight with a leaping pampano or a sea +bass: with thirty or forty pounds of desperate muscle at the other end +of a hundred-yard line, the song of reel was sweet. One night he +brought in an eighty-pound barracuda but usually the larger fish cost +him line, leader or spoon. + +At times the surface of the Gulf was alive with schools of leaping +fish: one evening he saw a great fish, a tanguingi, rise into the air +with nose pointed upward, till, at a height of twenty-five feet, it +reversed for a downward rush to plunge in the exact center of the +ripples its great leap had created. Once, far out on the Gulf with +Matak, he came upon a forty-foot whale asleep on the surface, rolling +dreamily from side to side: the Moro, unafraid of man or devil, turned +Malay-green with terror as Terry prodded the huge black surface with +his paddle. Awakened, it upended in a sluggish dive, the heavy flirt +of its great glistening tail smashing the left outrigger and drenching +them to the skin. + +Terry had attended strictly to the affairs which properly came under +his control and in doing this and doing it well, had won the respect +of natives and whites, a respect which had warmed into admiration +among those who knew him better, into affection with those who knew +him best. The loyal Macabebes would have followed him against any foe, +and, better than that, they drilled hard and worked faithfully that +they might be a credit to their leader. + +The natives knew him as "_El Solitario_," "The Solitary," partly +because he played his game alone in a quiet competent way, to all +appearances equally friendly to all, regardless of color or condition, +partly because he seemed unconscious of the lures of all those brown +maidens known to be as shady of character as of color. + +He had often stopped to spend an hour or two with Ledesma on his +prospering plantation. He liked Ledesma's sincere, old-school +courtesy, and he liked him because Ledesma was known as an +Americanista, looked upon the Americans as God-sent to guide his +people out of their sloth and abysmal ignorance. But he gave up these +visits following a day when he found the dark-eyed, ripe-bosomed +daughter alone in the house and learned, in her flaming passion for +him, that she had misunderstood the reason for his calls. + +The frequency of his trips to the outlying plantations had increased +as the weeks went by, especially to the pitiful holdings of some of +the poor natives. Malabanan's coming had been broadcasted across the +land, and an uneasiness had settled over the Gulf, a vague fear Terry +sought to allay. But Malabanan's record, a dark and dismal history of +hideous crime for which he had been but half punished, was known +throughout the country, and was the nightly subject of fearful +conversation in every hut on every isolated plantation. + +Terry had ridden, alone, to the neglected settlement up the coast +where the gang of roughs had rendezvous, but Malabanan was away. A +dozen hard-looking natives had sullenly responded to his curt +questions. None were working, though he had arrived during the cool of +the afternoon and the fields cried for attention. + +In Davao, the town, he found consuming interest. Sleepy six days in +the week it woke each Wednesday during the couple of hours the weekly +steamer anchored offshore to discharge cargo into a lighter, drop a +passenger or two, and send ashore the exiles' greatest balm--home +mail. He came to know everybody: first the other government +people--Lieutenant-Governor; Scout officers; Dr. Merchant, the +district health officer; school teachers, native postmaster. Seldom a +week passed that he failed to saunter into each of the Chinese +tiendas, making the purchase of matches or other small articles the +excuse for a half-hour's visit. Oftenest he went into Lan Yek's smelly +little shop, for there the Bogobos brought their mountain hemp to +trade for small agongs: tired from their heavy packing, they would +squat down on the floor along the wall, one of them occasionally +stepping to an agong to test it with deft contact of finger, all +joining him in rapt study of its tone, measuring the duration of the +lingering waves of sound. Terry learned, in time, that they found +greatest merit in those agongs which rang longest to lightest stroke. + +Even those timid Bogobos who never left the wooded foothills knew him. +He went among them, studying their language, learning their customs +and hopes and fears, listening to their picturesque traditions. +Always, when he met a file of the beaded, braceleted folk upon the +trail, he dismounted to exchange a few words with them. Unbelievably +shy at first, in time they came to know him as word passed through the +foothills of the young white man who understood: so they brought their +problems to him, some pathetic, some ridiculous--recently he had +ridden twenty miles to settle a dispute regarding the ownership of +some yet unborn puppies. + +As their confidence increased, they unsealed their tight lips in +relation of strange tales of the Hill People, unbelievable stories of +the wild tribe who lived in the forbidden mountain beyond the Dark +Forest: stories told usually by old men and old women, who shivered as +they whispered their legends to the white man by the campfire. They +told him the dread stories because they liked his quietness, his +slightly twisted, friendly smile, and because, as they told each +other, he listened as one who sees not with the eyes alone. + +When he saw that the fear of Malabanan had spread among these widely +scattered, defenseless wildmen, Terry grew grimmer. But as the weeks +passed peacefully by, hope grew within him that Malabanan's presence +in the lovely, fertile Gulf boded no ill. + + * * * * * + +Major Bronner, arriving unexpectedly, found that Terry had been away +all day on a mission among the Bogobos. Learning from Matak that his +master would return within a few hours the Major left his bag and +crossed over to the Davao Club for dinner. Entering the club, a roomy +house furnished by the planters to provide a comfortable place in +which to put up when forced to town by business or the monotony of +their isolation, he passed straight to the dining room, discovering +Lindsey, Cochran and a dozen others he knew. As he paused in the +doorway Lindsey spied him and called him to the table he shared with +Cochran and two others. After the Major had responded to the greeting +called from all four tables, Lindsey took up the thread of a story the +Major's entrance had interrupted. + +"Major, I was just telling of my experiences with the hemp machine I +brought down three months ago. As I was saying, I set the machine up +in my biggest field and tried it out in private--and Man! How she did +strip hemp! Convinced that I had the world by the tail I sent word out +to all the Bogobos in the neighborhood to come in next day to see the +machine work, and sent a special bid to the old chief who lords it +over that section. + +"Well, they came all right--ready to see the crazy Americans' newest +devilment--and all set for the feast they knew I'd give! The chief +came, with the bunch who act as a staff for him, and I lined them up +right in front of the machine in the center of a crowd of two hundred +wild men--all about as scared by the machine's appearance as they +could be. I was pretty proud, and pretty happy: I gave them a good +spiel through my interpreter, telling them that from now on all who +worked for me would be free from the hard toil of stripping--nothing +to do but field work--and all that. I thought that they would admire +this new evidence of the American genius, would pile over each other +in their desire to work for me. + +"I nodded to the mechanic: he cranked the engine and it got off to a +fine start and before throwing in the clutch that hooked it up with +the stripper I looked out over the silent, brown-faced crowd. I had to +grin at their expectant, half-scared attitude: the old chief stood +right in front of the big machine--he was uncertain about it all, but +game. I threw her in and waved to the feeders, who tossed in the great +stalks as the big iron arms started to revolve in the air. It did make +an infernal racket--but it did strip hemp. The fiber came out of one +end, the juice ran into a trough--oh, it worked great. + +"I spent a minute or two seeing that everything worked right, then I +turned triumphantly to the crowd. But, Lord--there wasn't any crowd--I +saw the last of their brown backs disappearing into the brush! + +"All but the old chief. He stood right there; stiff with fright, I +guess! I stopped the machine and went over to him to ask him to tell +his young men to work for me as he could see how easy it would be for +them, now that I had this machine." + +He paused, laughing ruefully. "But I didn't get a chance to say a +word. He took one last look at the now quiet iron monster, clucked +that peculiar 'Tuk!' in which they express the maximum of emotion, +uttered two words--'_Americano devils!_'--then stalked away as rapidly +as his bent old legs would carry him. He disappeared into the +woods--and hasn't been seen since! + +"And worst of all, all of my Bogobos quit me, so that instead of +cornering the labor market in Davao I lost most of what I had! I'm +punching the bag every day now, getting in shape to greet the next +_hombre_ that tries to sell me a machine!" + +He joined goodnaturedly in the laugh which filled the room and when it +subsided turned to the Major gratefully. + +"Major, my hemp lay rotting in my fields: it meant serious loss to +me--it would have wiped me out. But Lieutenant Terry heard about it +and without saying anything to me, went among the Bogobos and +persuaded sixty of them to work for me--the most I ever had was +thirty-one. He has a wonderful hold upon them--they will do anything +he says: and I'm not the only one he has helped out; am I, boys?" + +A dozen planters supported him, enthusiastic, vehement. + +Cochran knew the Major intimately, his hobbies and aversions. He +turned to him solemnly. + +"Married yet, Major?" + +"Who--me? I guess not! No petticoats for mine!" + +In the laugh which rose over Cochran's elicitation of the bachelor's +invariable formula, several of the planters moved their chairs near +the Major's table. All of these quiet, efficient Constabulary were +well liked, and the Major had been known to many of these Davao +pioneers since the days when they had fought together against +insurrectos, cholera, torturing sun, treachery; the days when capture +had meant the agony of dissection piecemeal, hamstringing, the ant +hill. + +The Major's face had relapsed into gravity: "Lieutenant Terry is well +liked, then?" he suggested. + +Lindsey replied, earnestly: "Major, he owns this whole Gulf. He hasn't +an enemy--not counting that gang of Malabanan's up the coast." + +Burns, a gruff old planter, interposed: "He had one enemy, once." + +Cochran understood that the uncommunicative Burns would go no further +and thought the Major should be enlightened. + +"As I was the only witness," he began, "I guess I must tell the story. +One of our planters, Sears, took a dislike to Terry on the way down +from Zamboanga: no reason for it--he was grouchy and sore, had been +drinking too hard trying to forget his troubles. + +"You know Sears, Major. His inability to get labor was ruining him and +he went too far in 'persuading' the Bogobos to work for him. Well, he +went after Terry on the boat, and it wound up with Sears threatening +to do Terry up if he came near his plantation: and Terry quietly +assured him that he would go there first of all. + +"We were all worried about it for a week, as Sears is a bad man when +aroused and never goes back on his word, and we knew Terry would +go--he was all business, though quiet and white. Well, when Sears got +back to his place all of his Bogobos had left him, the fields were +deserted. It meant the loss of his crop, complete ruin, so he got to +drinking harder and finally, desperate, brought in some Bogobos at the +point of a pistol and put them to work. + +"It was pretty raw, of course. Everybody knew of it that night. The +next morning I rode over to offer him some of my men and as I came in +sight of the house I saw Terry, riding his gray pony, enter Sears' +clearing from the east trail. + +"I was pretty scared. I knew he was there on business--that he would +be the first one to hear of Sears' coup. I spurred up to see if I +couldn't prevent serious trouble, but when I drew near I pulled up: +there was something in his face that made me keep out, made me +understand that I was an outsider in this affair. + +"Well, Sears rushed out just as Terry dismounted, his eyes inflamed +with rage--and with a whiskey hangover, I guess, though he seemed +perfectly sober. He stood at the top of the steps looking at Terry, +his face purple, trembling all over: he had his 45 in his hand. Terry +tied the reins to the lower railing, then stood looking up at Sears +with that queer expression which I couldn't fathom. Sears spoke first, +his voice husky. + +"'So you've come, Terry,' he said. + +"'Yes, I have come, Sears.' He looked sort of small and white compared +with Sears up there, but somehow I could not worry about him. I +thought Sears would choke for a minute, then he said: + +"'If you put a foot on those steps I'll--I'll--' + +"Terry didn't give him a chance to finish the threat, but stepped +forward. I noticed that his gray pony sort of nipped at him, +affectionately, as he passed his head and made the first step up. +Sears must have gone clean crazy. He raised the big pistol and fired +pointblank! + +"They weren't fifteen feet apart, but he missed, and that shot passed +over Terry's shoulder and tore a great chunk out of the cantle of his +saddle. The pony tore loose and ran away. I just sat there, scared to +death! + +"Terry never took his eyes off Sears and he still wore that same +expression I mentioned before: he was white as a sheet but he was not +scared. No, sir! Sears kept the pistol pointed at him and as Terry +came up another step I saw the hammer lift again, but it eased back +and the pistol wavered as Sears fell under the spell of Terry's +upturned eyes. His face changed queerly as Terry kept coming, he +stepped back uncertainly, the pistol dropped to his side. He +understood why Terry had come, and I did also, at the same time. + +"Terry was SORRY for him!" + +Cochran paused a moment to conquer a little catch that had crept into +his voice, and then concluded his story: "Well, Major, Sears realized +suddenly what he had tried to do and looked down at the gun in his +hands as in a dream, then offered it to Terry. But Terry shook his +head, said something in a low tone I didn't hear, and they went +inside, leaving me to cool my heels in the yard like the rank outsider +I was! They came out in half an hour, arm in arm, and Terry stepped to +the rail and sounded the Bogobo call. In about a minute a big gang of +half-naked Bogobos filed out of the woods into the clearing and +gathered around him at the foot of the steps. + +"Terry talked to them awhile in their own lingo, then asked Sears if +he had living accommodations for the whole bunch. Before coming to +Sears' place he had spent the night in the foothills and persuaded +seventy Bogobos to come in and work for Sears--Bogobos, mind you, who +have always feared Sears and refused to approach his place! + +"That's the story, Major,--except that Sears harvested his full crop, +is on his feet again, has cut booze and treats his men as well as any +planter in the Gulf. And he sure does worship this young lieutenant +of yours!" + +The Major studied the end of his cigar. "He never reports anything +like that," he admitted. "I'm glad you told me." + +"You'll hear plenty more such--" Cochran began, but was interrupted by +the loud entrance of little Casey. He tore into the room, breezy, +voluble, greeting every one with short, jerky sentences. He reached +the Major last. + +"Hello, Major! How's everything? I passed Lieutenant Terry on the +trail--three miles out--he was leading his pony--said it was lame +though it hardly limped at all! Tried to get him to mount and ride in +with me--but he wouldn't--sure and he's the merciful man to beasts!" + +He rambled on till the Major interrupted him with: "How are the +breeding experiments coming on, Casey? Any foals yet--or pigs?" + +The little man disregarded the amused grin of the planters, pouring +forth in long eulogy of American mares and boar. "You come down to my +place in about two weeks," he wound up at last, "and I'll show you! +I'll have some cross-bred colts and pigs worth the seeing--and I'm +going to name the first one after Terry!" + +"First pig?" Cochran seemed serious. + +"No--first colt--the first pig I'll name for you!" + +Soon the Major left Casey capably sparring with the plaguing Cochran, +and seated himself on a broad window ledge above the dark plaza, +smoking thoughtfully. He had made no mistake in sending Terry here. +Three phonographs strove against each other from different houses +along the plaza. It is characteristic of the Americans in the +Philippines that most of them take unto their bosoms these mechanical +comforts, instead of the animated talking machines which the Spaniards +affected. The sky was black with the threat of rain, low thunder +rumbled in the west, above Apo. + +A few minutes, and the Major distinguished two forms making their way +along the north side of the dark plaza and as they passed under one of +the oil park-lamps he recognized Terry, leading a weary pony which +limped slightly. As the Major secured his cap and waved a cheery +goodnight to the gathering, Lindsey hurried to the door to intercept +him. + +"Major, Lieutenant Terry promised to come over to my place to-morrow +afternoon. We were going to have a drive against the wild +pigs--they've been raising the devil with my young plants. You will +come along with him, won't you?" + +"You bet! I haven't had any shooting in months. But you won't let that +big snake get me, will you?" + +Chuckling, he left the club and crossed the plaza to Terry's quarters. +Entering, he heard Terry splashing under the shower. Terry emerged +soon, kimono clad, his face lighted hospitably when he spied the Major +sitting by the lamp-lit table. + +Dressed, Terry ate and listened while the Major smoked and talked. + +"Lieutenant," he finally remarked, "there is no more trouble among the +Bogobos?" + +"No, sir. It has stopped--as I reported to you." + +The Major regarded him closely: "What stopped it?" + +"I just talked to some of the planters, and they understood." + +Looking up, he flushed under the Major's quizzical gaze. + +"Major, those planters at the club have been stuffing you!" he +complained. + +The Major gravely discussed Malabanan. "Terry, you may not have to +move against him--I hope not, anyway. But I want you to be in a +position to finish anything he starts. Do you want me to send you an +additional company?" + +"No--I can handle anything in reason with the Macabebes." + +"What did you do with the secret service man I sent down?" + +"I planted him up the coast where he can watch that gang." + +Terry unfolded his plans for handling the situation should the +ladrones break loose upon the Gulf, and the Major was satisfied. + +"It hardly seems possible," he said, "that they will try it--but with +only one company here to cover the whole Gulf--and in so remote a +settlement--it may look like easy pickings. But if Malabanan +dares--you smash him!" + +The threatened rainstorm had passed to the north, leaving the night +clear and cool: a strong breeze fluttered the lamp. Matak entered to +clear the table and Terry, who had not eaten the fried chicken, pushed +it toward the Moro with goodnatured impatience. + +"Matak, this chicken is only half cooked: I've warned the cook several +times--tell him to eat it." + +Matak, silent and grim as ever, bore the offending dish out, while +Terry turned to the Major to discuss the morrow's sport. In a moment +their voices were drowned by the crash of dishes falling in the +kitchen, then a fearsome shriek reached the startled pair, a moaning +cry terminating abruptly in a choking gurgle. They sprang up and into +the kitchen. + +Matak was astride the prostrate Visayan in the midst of the broken +crockery and bent tinware spilled from the upset table. He had the +cook's mouth pried open in determined endeavor to ram what looked like +half a chicken down the Visayan's gullet. Half-strangled and crazed +with fear the cook rolled his eyes beseechingly. + +Bronner raised Matak bodily and Terry helped the trembling Filipino to +his feet. He turned to Matak sternly. + +"What does this mean?" + +"He would not eat it, master." + +The cook broke in, almost hysterical: "Matak say I must eat cheecken, +that you say so. I say 'all right, eat to-morrow.' He say 'eat now.' I +say 'no, to-morrow.' Then he fight. I no eat to-day--notheeng--to-day +church fast day!" + +As recollection came of his joking instructions to the ever serious +Matak, Terry turned to the Major but he had run from the kitchen, +choking. Having patched up a truce between them, Terry followed the +Major into the sala. + +At sight of his rueful face the Major burst into fresh laughter. "His +fast day!" he chuckled. "These Moros are sure literal-minded--they +follow your words exactly. I've had some queer examples in the past +year." + +They sat through the cool evening talking of their multi-phased +service, Bronner earnest and unwittingly eloquent in his summing up of +its ideals, its hopes for the future, Terry silent and thoughtful as +the big man talked about plans for Mindanao, for the Gulf. + +"And some day, Terry," he concluded, after a stirring account of what +two officers, Case and Gallman, had done among the Luzon headhunters, +"some day we will get to the Hill People: the right man will come +along, and the right combination of circumstances. It is an unusual +combination--the right man plus the right place plus the right time. +Carnegie would probably have been just a tight-fisted Scot had he +lived in Napoleon's time, and Napoleon if born in this generation +might never get a headline. + +"I would like to be the man who first wins to the Hills. Think of the +glory of such a life work--opening the doors for a benighted people +and leading them out of savagery into the decencies and comforts and +safety of civilization!" + +The steady evening breeze had stiffened, swinging the great airplants +which hung in the big windows. The far howl of a dog sounded through +the dark: the sleepy crowing of scores of gamecocks accurately gauged +the passing of another hour. The Major suggested sleep. + +Terry, in pajamas and slippers, came in to see if his guest were +comfortable for the night: assured, he crossed the sala, blew out the +light and entered his own room, closing the door behind him. Shortly, +while the Major lay watching, he threw open the door and the Major +heard him climb into bed and adjust his mosquito net. + +The Major mused: "That's queer--I wonder what he does behind the +closed door?" + +He fell asleep puzzling over it. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE PYTHON + + +Nothing could be more impersonal than the manner in which the Major +inspected the company. He was very curt and official: no detail eluded +his attention, no fault of equipment, quarters, drill or training +escaped comment and correction. The command was in fine shape but it +is a service in which there is but one standard--perfection, and +perfection may never be attained. The inspection consumed the morning, +but when they sat at lunch in Terry's quarters, rank had perished +again. + +At two o'clock they set off leisurely for Lindsey's, Terry quiet, the +Major jovial at the prospect of a drive at the wild boar. They jogged +through the hot afternoon over a trail winding under a canopy of +foliage shrill with the plaint of myriad insect life. An hour out and +the Major was nearly unseated as his pony shied violently from a +three-foot iguana that scurried across their path in furious haste. +Farther into the woods, and they drew rein, listening to the mystic +tone of a Bogobo agong rung at minute intervals: Terry judged the gong +to be six miles distant westward, the Major contended for half a mile, +north of them. Such is the weird quality of the agong in the forest. + +At four o'clock they drew up at Lindsey's roomy, thatched house set in +the middle of his clearing and in a few minutes Lindsey, soaked with +perspiration, hurried out of the tall growth of hemp ripening in his +south field. + +"I feared you might not be able to make it," he smiled. "You can never +tell what the next day may bring you Constabulary fellows!" + +He called his head native, a stocky Visayan, and ordered him to start +the beaters out, explaining to his guests that they would take their +places in an hour. The three then strolled through the streets of the +little village Lindsey had built for his laborers and their families, +a double row of neat bamboo huts, grass roofed, of which he was very +proud. Returning, they passed a huge machine rusting under a rough +shed, Lindsey's ill-fated hemp machine, introduced a little too early +to an ignorant people. + +Lindsey unlocked a trunk and brought out three high-powered rifles, +two of them borrowed, contrary to the law of a land where firearms +must be zealously protected against falling into hostile hands. He led +the way through the long rows of abaca which drooped listless fronds +in the quivering heat, and into the cool woods which surrounded his +fields. They went on for a half-hour into deeper jungle, emerging into +a strip of natural clearing from which they could hear the beaters +converging toward them. Lindsey stationed Terry at the left end of the +break, Bronner in the center where the shooting should be best, +himself taking the right end. + +As the beaters approached, crashing the underbrush and shouting +lustily, the three stood motionless, guns ready: the suspense grew +tense and the beaters grew silent as they hurried, unseen, from the +line of fire. A moment of dead silence, then Lindsey heard to his +right a dry twig snap and turning saw a big boar slip out from the +brush and pause, its ugly tusks foam-flecked. His heavy gun crashed, +the boar leaped convulsively across the clearing, falling at a second +shot. As it dropped he whirled to cover a big buck which sped across +his field of fire: as it fell he heard the cracking of a lighter +weapon to his right and thought, as he shot again and again, that his +guests were not being disappointed in their sport. + +It was fast work while it lasted. Lindsey inspected with keen +satisfaction the bag of two pigs and one deer that had fallen to his +gun: he had missed one boar and another, which he had wounded, had +escaped down the trail which led to his house. He turned to see how +his friends had fared. + +The Major was known as a crack shot but no game lay before him. +Approaching him, surprised, Lindsey saw that he was absent-mindedly +putting his rifle at safe the while he stared at Terry. + +"Major, I'm sorry you had no chances--" Lindsey began but the Major +interrupted him. + +"Chances! Chances? Sus-marie-hosep! Some of those pigs almost ran up +my breeches!" He was as nearly excited as Lindsey had ever seen him, +and they had served together in a Kansas regiment. + +"Lindsey, I'm sure glad you asked me to come--I've seen something +worth seeing. I've seen him shoot!" + +He pointed to Terry. His borrowed rifle stood nearby against a tree +and he was busy clipping fresh ammunition into his pistol magazines. +Five wild pigs lay in front of him near the opposite side of the +clearing. Lindsey looked his unbelief. + +"Yes, he did!" asserted the Major. "I watched him do it--that's why I +drew a blank. Five pigs, five shots,--and after each shot he holstered +the gun till the next pig hove in sight! I've seen good shooting, but +such drawing--such certainty-- + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" he wound up, lamely. + +Terry, having replenished his magazine, clipped it into the big +automatic with a deft snap, and turned round toward them. Noting their +attitude, he colored boyishly. + +"Pretty lucky, wasn't I?" he said. + +"Yes," agreed the Major, drily, "you were pretty lucky!" + +The beaters had come up. Lindsey ordered them to carry the game for +distribution among his villagers. The sun was dipping behind the hills +as the three started back the trail through the dense woods, Lindsey +leading the way and searching for signs of the wounded boar. Every few +rods he found a pool of blood where it had paused in flight. + +They entered the deep shadow cast by the spread of a great banyan tree +from whose thick branches a score of accessory trunks were sent down +to seek root in the soil. Rooting, they grew into smooth, heavy +supports for the wide-spread limbs which towered above the surrounding +forest. Terry paused a moment in the twilight of the tree, studying +appreciatively the miniature forest of trunks parented by the one +ancient growth. Suddenly a warning cry escaped his lips as he saw one +of the long dark trunks, a foot in diameter, loosen from a branch +where it hung suspended high over the Major's head. + +"LOOK OUT, MAJOR!" + +He leaped forward, expecting to find the Major crushed, but +involuntarily halted midway in his stride as the heavy trunk, landing +at the Major's feet with a slithering thud, writhed a terrible length +into massive folds. No eye could follow the inconceivably swift +contortions that wrapped the Major in a triple fold. + +Two heavy coils prisoned his legs, a third passed round his back up +over his right shoulder to curve to the trail in front of him and rear +again in a length which terminated in a massive head poised six feet +from the Major's blanched face. Demon-eyed, unwinking, its thin lips +bisected the thick-boned jaws in frightful, moist grimace. + +Lindsey, horror-stricken, stood helpless while the hammer head +catapulted at the sickened face of its victim. The Major's free left +arm, raised instinctively to blot out the sight of the living horror, +took the terrific impact, then dropped to his side, paralyzed. Still +bearing that hideous grin the flat head drew back for another blow at +the exposed face. The Major, faint with the terror of his helplessness +and the crushing weight of the quivering masses of muscle about him, +would have fallen but for their dread support. His consciousness fast +deserting him, fascinated, he watched the monstrous leer as the head +drew farther back, poised. He felt the agonizing pressure as the +great muscles steeled for the blow, and in the moment before his +senses departed, heard two crashing shots that sounded from behind +him. With the smashing reports the poised head thudded to the ground, +the folds fell from about him and he slid down among the great +quivering coils. + +Recovering consciousness, the horror crept back into his face but +receded when he saw Terry standing by him. Still faint and sick he +struggled to his feet, leaning against the trunk of the banyan and +stamping his feet weakly to restore the still numb legs. Terry helped +him hobble over to where the Bogobos, who had come up at the shots, +were grouped about the dead monster. Lindsey, kneeling to examine the +head of the great reptile, struck a match to point out the jagged +wounds that had shattered the base of the head. + +"Cut the spinal cord," he explained quietly. He was as pale as the +Major. "Any other wound, even fatal,--it's death struggles would +have--I hate to think of it, Major." + +At the Major's questioning look he pointed toward Terry: "He shot it. +Pistol." + +The Major surveyed Terry steadfastly, striving for appropriate +expression of what was in his heart. + +Then, "Terry, I am much obliged. If I ever--if ever you--I'm much +obliged!" + +It was dark when they reached the house. Later they heard the +triumphant shouts which announced the arrival in the village of the +men bearing the carcass of the snake, which had haunted the +neighborhood for a generation. The celebration of its passing lasted +far into the night. After dinner Lindsey and Terry strolled to the +village to measure the python, and Lindsey ordered it skinned +immediately. + +You may still see the trophy in the Davao Club, its scaly length +stretched along the molding on two sides of the library, where the +Major asked Lindsey to place it with this legend: + + This python attacked Major John Bronner, P.C., + on the Lindsey Plantation. + + Length................24 feet, 9 inches + Greatest diameter.............14 inches + + Major Bronner owes his life to the wonderful + pistol marksmanship of his friend, + + Lieut. Richard Terry, P.C. + +The ride home through the dewy night stiffened the Major's sore +muscles and strained joints intolerably. Terry called in the Health +Officer, fat Doctor Merchant, who looked him over and pronounced him +uninjured, leaving some vile-smelling liniment. The Major winced under +Matak's too efficient rubbing of bruised areas. + +"Horse dope!" he snorted. + +Later, dozing, he waked to see Terry's door close and open again after +a few minutes. Puzzled as on the preceding night, he fell asleep over +the problem. + + * * * * * + +Governor Mason had dropped the Major at Davao while he went on to +Mati, planning to return for a short stop at Davao in forty-eight +hours, but as they finished their leisurely breakfast they heard the +whistle of his cutter approaching Davao from the south. + +"Wonder what's up," said the Major. "He's twelve hours ahead of his +schedule." + +They walked slowly to the dock, the Major still stiff-legged, arriving +just as the launch was lowered over the side of the trim white boat +which lay anchored a half-mile offshore. As the launch neared shore +they saw the Governor standing on the stern seat. + +He stepped up on to the little dock and greeted the Major, then turned +his smile upon Terry, apologizing: + +"I planned to spend a day here with you all, but have been recalled. +As usual my departure from the capitol was the signal for a dato to +start a row!" + +A group of officials and more prominent natives had gathered at the +pier. He shook hands with each, calling each by name, then gathered +the officials about him in a brief conference which disclosed his +grasp of conditions in the Gulf. At the end of the short discussion he +drew Terry aside. + +"No trouble yet with that gang of roughs--with Malabanan?" + +"No, sir." + +The Governor's face bore a look Terry had not seen in it, an +unrelenting determination, a grimness: "Major Bronner has told you how +I want this matter handled?" + +"Yes, sir. Wait, let him make the first move, then move against +them." + +"Exactly! I want to demonstrate for all time that this province is as +unhealthy now for criminals as during Army days!" + +For a moment he studied Terry keenly, then his gaze traveled over the +splendid vista of the Gulf appreciatively, mounting higher and higher +till it rested on Apo's dim crest. A moment and he turned to Terry +again, to find that he, too, was lost in a rapt contemplation of the +Hills. + +"Lieutenant, some day ... somehow...." + +"Yes, Governor." + +The Major fidgeted uncomfortably in the presence of the two dreamers. +Two short blasts of the cutter's whistle restored the Governor's urban +manner. In a minute he and the Major had said their good-bys and were +bobbing over the little seas toward the ship. + +The group of Americans and natives split up as they returned toward +the town but Terry lingered at the dock watching the cutter as it got +under way and raced toward the horizon, leaving a white ribbon of wake +on the blue gulf waters. Three large bancas were approaching the +shore, belated fishermen returning with the night's catch: a fleet +vinta, bearing Moro traders, bore toward Samal, its little sail +glaring white in the actinic sunlight: the morning air was hot and +filled with the heavy odors of sea and shore. It was a fair spot, +Davao, productive, peaceful.... He looked up the coast toward the +north where Malababan had settled with his unsavory crew. + + * * * * * + +He spent the day at the _cuartel_, correcting all the little defects +the Major's stiff inspection had uncovered. The Macabebes responded +eagerly--they, too, wanted to be perfect. They felt trouble in the +air, scented impending combat, and Macabebes thrive on combat. +Sergeant Mercado, veteran of seven campaigns in Samar and Cavite, +drilled them tirelessly, his eyes afire with the old fighting glint. +And that night he donned his starchiest uniform, pinned on his bright +service medals, and made the round of the tiendas, throwing chests at +the black-haired girls behind the counters. Great fighting blood is +usually great loving blood. + + * * * * * + +Terry ate dinner alone. The house seemed too big without the Major. +Restless, reading failed of its usual absorption. After a while he +took up a letter the last mail had brought from Deane and reread it. + + DEAR DICK:-- + + Your letter telling of transfer to the Moro Province has + just come. I had to study the map to find out where it is! + If it means advancement I am glad--though we had all hoped + that when you left Sorsogon it would be to come home. + + Your letters are so funny, so interesting. You write such + nice things about the natives that I am becoming fond of + them too. But the other day I read an article written by a + cynical woman who has lived in the Islands only a few + months. I read part of it to father, the part which says + that "the Filipinos are a worthless, shiftless, lazy people; + improvident, untrustworthy and immoral!" After I had read + that he thought a moment and then said: + + "Well, Deane, people are just about the same as that around + here!" + + Everything is going about as usual around Crampville. They + are tearing down the old watering trough in the square--it + is a nuisance to automobiles. They had some trouble over on + the South Side last week among the foreigners but Father + Jennings smoothed things out. He told me that he has a + harder time keeping them contented since you left. I learned + from him that you used to spend a good deal of your time + among them, that they idolized you.... Why did you never + talk to me about such things, Dick? + + Bruce is earning a great reputation but insists on staying + in Crampville. He has been called to Albany twice during the + month to perform some special operation. He finds time to + run in on us nearly every day. + + Susan and Ellis do not change: they are quite the happiest + couple we have--though they both do miss you terribly. + + You never mention the native girls. Are they attractive, + lovely? Do not let one of them fascinate you. We need you + here, Dick,--Susan and Ellis, Father Jennings, the + foreigners--all of us. + + DEANE. + +His deft fingers fumbled as he folded the letter and locked it in the +drawer. Vainly smoothing at the lock of hair which always stuck out +from the crown of his head, he stared vacantly at the lamp shade, +oblivious to the entrance of the silent, morose Matak, who carried the +bottle of boiled drinking water into the bedroom and then went out for +the night. + +A hoarse ghekko lizard croaked its raucous six-song from a rafter +overhead: a giant bat flapped through an open window, fluttered, +crazy-winged, thrice about the big room and blundered through another +window into the night: the low voweled voices of native passersby +floated up from the dark street. + +But Terry heard nothing, nor felt the scent-laden breezes which roused +the heat-soaked town to life.... He was walking up Main Street again, +with rifle and snowshoes and fox, of a Sunday morning just as the +heavy church doors swung wide to the emerging congregation.... + +A strong gust flickered the lamp. He rose, slid shut the exposed +window and returned to his desk. In a few moments he took pen and +paper, and wrote. + + DEANE-DEAR:-- + + Your letters come to me across the thousands of miles of + land and sea, carried by sooty train and boat, buried in a + dross of mail in prosy canvas sacks: I open them with the + delight one feels when he brushes aside the mat of damp and + frosty withered leaves to find the timid beauty of arbutus. + + You think, perhaps, you might grow fond of these people? I + know that you would love this Gulf as I do. The humid heat + of the day oppresses me but little: I love the sparkling + hours of dawn, the cool of the evenings; the great tangled + stretches of green which clothe the slopes from sea to the + edge of the mountains that loom gray in the distance, like + the rim of the world. And I like the courageous planters, + toiling that the world may have its hemp: the young-old wild + tribes, emerging from their primitive mental shallows, a bit + bewildered, pathetic. + + Yes, I think that you would like it all, too, + though--sometimes--I am not quite sure. + + The mountains are not like our Vermont hills: more rugged, + wilder, more--what shall I say!--unsolved.... Thinking of + the home hills I can almost conceive the vast significance + of the word "eternity": but thoughts of these primeval hills + sweeps my mind backward, to the infinity of creation. + Untamed, untraveled, mysterious by day as by night, they + threaten as they beckon. + + Nearly every evening, near sundown, I see a pair of wild + pigeons homing toward the crest of Apo. "Limoçons," the + Bogobos call them--"leem-o-sahns": the word falls limpid + from their lips, unaccented. They say the limoçon never was + heard to sing in the lowlands, and tell a strange legend + that it is an oracle of the Hill People, its song a + harbinger of good or evil tidings. + + An old Bogobo woman told me of this one night, in a little + foothill village, when the spell of dusk had unlocked her + lips: and she told, whisperingly, of twice having heard the + Giant Agong of the Hill dwellers, once when she was a child, + again when she was grandmother to nineteen. I wish you could + have been there to watch and to listen: sitting near the + fire in front of her hut, surrounded by a circle of almost + naked wildmen who moved, uneasy, she told quaveringly of how + the booming tones had rumbled down the forested slopes, and + of how ill had befallen her people both times; when she + ceased, they stood breathless, their whole beings strained + to catch the dread sound none but she had ever heard. Yes, + she moved me, queerly ... I scarce know why. + + I am lonely--a little--at times. But who is not? Yet I have + my work to keep me busy, usually happy. Just now I am facing + less pleasant duty--but it is, I fear, a work that must be + done. It is good to know that one is needed, as I am + here,--just now. + + But never a day is born or dies but that I miss you all, as + I love you all ... Susan and Ellis, Father Jennings, the + foreigners ... all of you. + + DICK. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE STRICKEN VILLAGE + + +A week later, Terry stood at the window looking down over the +blistering plaza. Davao was torpid under the noonday heat. Three +carabaos grazed undisturbed on the forbidden square: another of the +awkward powerful brutes dawdled up the dusty road, hauling a decrepit +two-wheeled cart on which a naked-backed, red-pantalooned native +dozed: Padre Velasco, the aged Spanish priest, waved a weary hand at +Terry from his window in the old adobe convento. As he watched he saw +the soldierly figure of Sergeant Mercado emerge from the _cuartel_ and +hurry toward him. + +Entering the room the soldier saluted stiffly and reported that a +patrol had just come in from the foothills with the information that a +mysterious fever had attacked the Bogobos in the barrio of Dalag, that +a score were stricken and four already dead. + +Terry hastened to the quarters of the Health Officer to apprise him of +the facts. He found him cursing the heat, sweating profusely, though +wearing nothing but a thin kimono. A very fat man, Doctor Merchant, +inclined to be fussy about little things but magnificent in big +things, and thoroughly imbued with the idea that his work of +protecting the natives against their own sloth and filth was the only +interesting problem in the universe. Alarmed at Terry's report, he +ordered his horse saddled and rose heavily to don his field clothes. + +Terry expostulated. "Doctor, you ought to wait till it cools off." + +"Lieutenant, disease spreads all the time--it takes no time off +duty--so why should I?" + +He came out fuming over a missing button: "Confound it all! I never +have--how do you keep so immaculate, Terry? You always look as if you +were on your way to a dinner or dance!" Wiping the perspiration from +heavy jowl and neck he lumbered about the room collecting medicine +cases, saddle bags, two big canteens, finally answering Terry's +question. + +"No, you can't go with me--if I need you I'll send for you." + +Terry followed him downstairs and helped him mount the ridiculously +small pony, then watched the sweating, cussing, bighearted doctor ride +out into the sun on his errand of mercy. As the tough little pony bore +his heavy burden into the trail and out of sight in the brush, Terry +decided humorously that Casey was right--bigger ponies were needed. + +During the afternoon the _Francesca_ had limped in and out of port. +Among his official mail Terry received a confidential memorandum from +Major Bronner that erased the softer lines about his mouth: + + Zamboanga, 12/18/191-. + + Memo for Lieut. Terry. + + Last night a notorious criminal, Ignacio Sakay, passed + through Zamboanga enroute to Davao. + + Sakay was identified with Malabanan in some of the latter's + most vicious undertakings, was convicted of brigandage and + has been but recently released from Bilibid Prison. + + Sakay is not a leader but is bold and absolutely relentless. + Among the natives he was known as "Malabanan's stiletto," + and was supposed to do all of the killing. + + You may look for immediate action from these men: Malabanan + has doubtless been awaiting his arrival. + + Destroy this memorandum. + + BRONNER. + +Terry read the terse communication twice before lighting it with a +match and scattering the charred remnants over the polished mahogany +floor. He passed a grim afternoon with the Macabebes on the target +range, where the scorers wagged bull's eye after bull's eye, for +twenty-seven of the Macabebes were expert riflemen, forty-three were +marksmen. + +He saw that Matak, serving dinner, was gripped in one of the +smoldering moods that often preyed upon him. Though his attentions to +his master were even more meticulous than usual, he moved with an air +of somber detachment. Terry had often pondered on the history of the +queer Moro and now he studied him as he cleared the dishes and lighted +the desk lamp. + +"Matak," he said. + +The Moro came to him, his melancholy eyes fixed steadfastly upon the +master of his choice. + +"Matak, you know that I have never asked you anything about your past +life. I am not going to ask you now, unless there is something in +which I can be of help to you." + +Matak faced his master, his brown features Moro-masked, inscrutable. +A moment he searched the concerned countenance, then before Terry +understood his purpose, the tight muscles of his face relaxed and he +slid forward to kneel on one knee and raise Terry's hand to his lips +in the Moros' final homage to an _apo_--a self-chosen master. Rising, +he exposed a face stripped of its mask of Oriental imperturbability. + +"Master," he said, "I tell you. No other knows. When I am small +boy--twelve years old--my family live east coast Basilan. Very happy +family, master: father, mother, sister, me; three carabaos we have, a +little house, chickens, a little _vinta_ in which to fish--everything +Moro family want. We hurt nobody, just work. + +"One night, very late," his face darkened, "men come. They steal +carabaos, everything. My father wake up, go out to see, and they +laugh--and kill him. I--a little boy--see them do it: see them kill my +father--with bolos. Then they kill my mother--the same man--the same +bolo. I see that, too: they say she too old, and they laugh." He spoke +slowly, hesitating before each short sentence, his black eyes dulled +with the terrible memories. + +"My sister--she sixteen years old--they take her away. They take me, +too, because I soon be strong boy to work. My sister--they say she +pretty girl!" He raised his hand in unutterable execration. + +"We sail all night, all day. Second night, I hear my sister scream, +see her fighting with same big Filipino who kill my father and mother. +Another Filipino hold me away, laughing ... always I know that laugh, +master! + +"She Moro girl, he Filipino, so she fight hard--she rather die. She +hurt him, so he draw knife, kill her, and throw her in sea: then other +Filipino holding me hit me with bolo and throw me in too." + +He whipped off his thin cotton camisa and exposed a deep scar which +furrowed his left shoulder. It had severed the clavicle, and +improperly knit, drew the left arm slightly forward. + +"I swim ashore, two miles, to Lassak. Next morning I take boat, find +sister, bury her on beach. I, twelve years old, master." + +He paused, a picture of implacable hatred and purpose. + +"Master, I see Filipino who kill all three my family. He born with +left eye all white. I know him any time, any place. That nine years +ago. Nine years I no laugh, no sing, no play, no talk with Moro girls, +no marry--just listen--just look; listen for that laugh, look for big +Filipino with left white eye. Nine years I no tell anybody, just +listen, just look. I never find. + +"But now I know I find him, soon. For I know you help Matak, master." + +He had read the distressed white face correctly. Terry rose, placed +his hand upon the Moro's shoulder--the scarred shoulder--and looked +down into his now emotionless face: + +"Yes, Matak, I will help," he said simply. + +Content, the Moro turned silently on his bare heels and padded out +into the kitchen. + +Usually Terry strolled the dark streets before going to bed, but +to-night a heavy downpour kept him indoors. Outside, the square was +loud with the drum-fire of the heavy fall on iron roofs, the rush of +water through shallow dirt gutters; inside, the big house roared, the +roof trembled overhead. He paced the floor, sleepless, worried with +thinking of Matak's terrible story, of the Doctor striving to succor +the stricken village, of Sakay's joining Malabanan. + +There was another worry, too. Though there was nothing in the +eternally verdant land in which he was living to make the fact seem +real, the calendar indicated that Christmas was less than two weeks +distant, and for the first time since the days when she had first +intruded upon his boyish consciousness as something different, +something wondrously dear and fine and unattainable, he had sent Deane +nothing. + + * * * * * + +He was awakened before daylight by the arrival of a spent Bogobo +runner bearing a note from Doctor Merchant: + + Dear Lieut:-- + + Can you come to Dalag for a day? These people are + panic-stricken, won't do a thing I order, won't take + treatment, but are trying to exorcise the devils of disease + by all sorts of queer rites. + + I hate to ask you to come but your influence among them is + so great that it seems justifiable to ask it. + + If you do come, bring your mosquito net--don't fail to do + this. The disease is mosquito-borne, and fatal if untreated. + The temperature runs are terrific--highest I ever saw. + + MERCHANT. + +Terry rode out of Davao at seven o'clock, bound for Dalag. Within a +mile he overtook Lindsey, who had spent the night in town. They rode +together several miles to where the trail, soaked with the night's +rain, forked toward Lindsey's plantation: the sun shone white hot, the +earth steamed through its mat of decayed vegetation. + +They drew rein at the fork, dismounted. Lindsey broke the silence in +which they had ridden following Terry's brief explanation of his +mission. + +"Terry," he said, "you're too young for all this worry." + +Terry's face relaxed into a slow grin: "Lindsey, how old are you?" + +"But your work is different--and you are different, Terry." + +Terry's bantering grin gave way to a smile of singular sweetness, the +queer smile which deepened the depression at the corner of his mouth. + +"Lindsey, I know what you mean, I think.... All my friends--" + +He paused, gently discouraging his pony from its persistent nibbling +at his arm. Lindsey waited, hoping he would continue, but Terry looked +away, idly studying the thickly planted hemp fields that extended from +the fork to Lindsey's house, a mile distant. The still wet leaves +flaunted on great stalks fifteen feet above the wonderfully fertile +soil. + +"Lindsey, I wonder if you really appreciate what you are doing in +taming a soil that was wild in jungle ages before Pharaoh's time, and +making it useful to man." + +He pointed to the huge plant nearest them; "The fibers in those +stalks--I can see them, woven into a rope that may warp a steamer to +dock in Tripoli or Hoboken or Archangel: or fashioned by happy +Japanese fingers into braided hats to cover lovely heads in Picadilly +or Valparaiso or Montreal: or woven into a cord which will fly a kite +for some tousle-headed boy in Michigan or for a slant-eyed urchin on +the banks of the Yang-Tse Kiang: or, somewhere, it may be looped into +ugliest knot by a grim figure standing on a scaffold--though I hope +not!" + +Lindsey had listened in curious wonderment to this conception of his +work. He thought it over, laughed. + +"Well, maybe that's what you see, Lieutenant,--but I see wild pigs +rooting up my immature plants, lack of labor, poor transportation, +fluctuations of price, typhoons undoing a whole year's work--take my +word for it, I see aplenty!" + +Terry tightened the girth, tickling the knowing pony's nose till a +sneeze compelled contraction of the expanded chest. Mounted, he seemed +loath to go, and twisted in the saddle to look down at Lindsey. + +"About what you said a moment back--that I was 'different.' All my +friends have always been like that--wanted to look after me, somehow, +though I can look after myself, pretty well. I never quite understood +why they felt like that ... about me. So, I know what you meant, +Lindsey. And I want you to know that--that I like it." + +Lindsey gripped his outstretched hand, then stood at the fork watching +the slender rider thread through the maze of the trail out of sight. +Mounting, he started homeward along the edge of the field trying to +interpret the strange appeal this young officer had exerted over him, +this quiet lad whose very competence and cheerfulness he somehow found +pathetic. He involuntarily halted his pony as solution came to him. + +"Why, curl my cowlick!" he exclaimed aloud. "That's it--he was BORN +lonely!" + + * * * * * + +Terry rode into Dalag at noon and found the doctor even redder and +hotter than usual. The perspiration glistened on his hands and wrists, +dripped from his fat face and neck, and his once-starched clothes hung +limp from his rolypoly frame. Worn with loss of sleep and fruitless +efforts to bring the frightened Bogobos to reason, he welcomed Terry +weariedly to the little hut that had been sat aside for his use. + +Terry took command, so quietly that the doctor did not realize it. A +few brief questions elicited the measures the doctor wished put into +effect, simple curative methods and preventive precautions. +Understanding, Terry started out, but was recalled by the doctor. + +"Lieutenant, did you bring your mosquito net?" At Terry's affirmative +nod he continued: "It's a good thing you did--the village is swarming +with nightflyers, and every one of them is loaded to the hilt with +plasmodiae!" + +The village, a mere scattering of crudest huts along the river front, +seemed deserted, but from nearly every hut came the low wailings of +the sick and the frightened. Noting that the lamentations had ceased a +few minutes after Terry went out, the doctor stepped to the door and +watched his progress from shack to shack, saw how the picturesque +little savages grouped about him. They knew him and listened to him +confidently, so that the parboiled doctor was as much disgusted as +pleased with the ease with which Terry secured the cooperation for +which he had begged and stormed in vain. + +Under his direction they cut down all of the plant life whose upturned +leaves or fronds held stagnant, mosquito-breeding water, climbed tall +palms to brush out the rain water accumulated in the concave +depressions where frond joins trunk, even twisted off the cuplike +scarlet blossoms from hibiscus shrubs. They carried green brush to a +series of smudges he lit to cordon the village against the vicious +singing horde of germ carriers. Best of all, they ceased their +incantations over the sick, unwound the tight cords they had knotted +around the abdomens of the stricken to prevent the fever from "going +further down," opened the grass windows that gasping lungs might +obtain decent air, and swallowed the doctor's hitherto neglected +medicines. + +There were no chickens in the village, no eggs. The doctor bemoaned +the lack of nourishment for his sick. So Terry summoned four of the +ablest hunters and disappeared into the woods for an hour, returning +with a young buck speared through the lungs and shot mercifully +through the head. In an hour a big pot was boiling in the middle of +the street that throughout the night the sufferers might receive hot +soup made up of venison, yams, eggplant and rice, all that the village +afforded. + +Doctor Merchant, watching the transformation, marveled at the method +of persuasion. There was no attempt at exercise of authority, no +raising of voice, no gestures, only patient explanation, an assumption +of mutual friendliness, a sincere and ample sympathy. + +Shortly after sundown the doctor, exhausted with the worry and stress +of the hours before Terry came, distributed his bulk as comfortably as +possible on the bamboo floor, tucked in his mosquito net very +carefully, and fell into a heavy sleep, too exhausted to await Terry's +return. + +It was as well that the doctor did not await him, for Terry spent half +of the night by a fire kindled at the base of a big tree in front of +the chief's abode. Seated on a stump near the blaze, surrounded by a +ring of half-nude Bogobos whose timid eyes seldom wandered from his +face, he answered their questions and erased the last vestiges of the +panic into which the epidemic had precipitated the villagers. + +Interrogation at an end, he still stayed on with them. The flickering +blaze lighted the circle of little brown folk, each flare gleaming on +an eye here, glinting there on beaded jacket or brass trinkets with +which both men and women were adorned. The first mad panic had abated, +but Death had stalked through the settlement six times in as many +days, and they listened superstitiously for the stark Tread through +the woods which hemmed them in. Each whispering wind that stirred the +leaves overhead brought a deeper silence, each wail from delirious +sufferers in nearby huts tightened the little circle. + +The quavering gutturals of a half-blind old woman, wrinkled and +shrivelled with a number of years no man could estimate, jarred the +dumb circle. + +"My years are as the scales of a fish. Each year has brought wisdom. +Listen." + +It was the invariable preface of a Bogobo legend. Terry stirred: it +was the old woman who had told him of the Giant Agong. + +"This sickness takes not many more of our people. The white men will +stop it. Trust them. These white men are Bogobo friends. These white +men are strong, wise, honest. White is better blood than brown blood. +Yes. The Hill People knew this." + +At the mention of the dread folk the group of tribesmen moved +uneasily. A young hunter nervously stirred the flagging fire into +brighter blaze as the old woman went on: + +"Yes. The Hill People knew. Have you forgotten how the Giant Agong +rang the night the Spaniards lost their girl-child? + +"No. You have not forgotten. The Hill People took her--they wanted +white blood in the veins of future chiefs. They knew what white blood +means--the Hill People know!" + +Curiously thrilled by the simple legend, Terry moved nearer to the old +woman. + +"Grandmother, how many years ago was this?" + +"Years? Years? I know naught of your white man's years, but this I +know--it happened during the rains before the dark-eyed white men +gave way to the blue-eyed white men." + +Interpreting this as referring to the departure of the Spanish troops, +he gently pressed her for further details. But she was finished. + +It was dawn when the doctor rose. Groaning in the agony of the fat man +who wakes stiff from the discomfort of an unaccustomed hard bed, he +sat up, then forgot his miseries in a new worry as he saw Terry asleep +under the open window, wrapped in his saddle blanket but without the +protection of a mosquito net. He cursed, stopping midway in his +vehement outburst to cock his head at the absurd angle in which men +think their ears function best. As he heard the ominous drone of the +insects his experience had taught him to fear more than wild beasts, +he scrambled to his feet with amazing celerity. + +A light sleeper, Terry awakened and lay regarding him quizzically, +enthusiastically dissecting the stream of invective the doctor poured +upon him for sleeping without his net. Suddenly sensing the +responsibility the doctor felt in having summoned him to the village, +Terry explained his lack of a net. + +"Doctor, I gave my net to the chief's wife: she--she is about to +become a mother, and she had none." + +"Hell's bells! What Bogobo woman isn't about to become a mother?" he +stormed, refusing to concede the justice of the act. "'She had +none'--and probably didn't use yours!" + +He was facing the window, past which the chief, arrayed in all his +half-naked splendor of beads and brass, sauntered with an air of +confidence quite different from his terror of the past week. + +"There goes the chief, Terry, all fancied up like a bathroom on a +German liner! But he has no pants--why don't you give him yours? He +'has none'! You make me--" + +He stormed on and on. Terry, still wrapped in his blanket, sat before +him looking up with an absurdly rapt air as of a student at his +master's feet. Merchant stopped to swab the thick perspiration from +his face, laughed at Terry's humbugging pose, and desisted. Terry +slipped on his shoes, buckled on the leather leggings he had used as a +pillow and picking up his saddlebags went out to clean up at the +river. + +Finding on his return that the doctor was again genuinely disturbed +over his exposure to the disease, he sought to divert him. He sneezed +violently, and as the doctor listened with professional interest he +followed it with a series which mounted in volume and vigor. Merchant +eyed him solicitously. + +"You've caught a bad cold, Lieutenant." + +"Yes." Terry snuffled and drew his handkerchief. "It was awfully damp +in here last night." + +"Damp? How could it be damp in an open shack this time of year?" + +"Well, it was. A regular mist!" He sneezed explosively, then took a +few short turns about the little hut in search of the cause of his +malady. + +The doctor watched him, interested. Bending suddenly, Terry held aloft +the perspiration-soaked nightshirt which the doctor affected. + +"Eureka!" he exclaimed, dramatically, then dodged the shoe the hoaxed +doctor let drive at his head. + +After an hour's investigation of conditions in the village the doctor +was convinced that he could now handle the situation alone and +insisted upon Terry's returning home. His parting injunctions were +worried. + +"Now Lieutenant, you watch yourself closely for several days and if +you display fever symptoms, you send for me." + +After Terry had ridden down the river bank and into the long homeward +trail, the doctor's overworked conscience smote him hard: + +"Hell's bells! I never thanked him for coming!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MALABANAN STRIKES + + +Next morning Terry rose as the first sleepy cock challenged the +pink-streaked day. Shaving in the dim light, he watched the plaza +merge out of its darkness and fill with the natives passing listlessly +to field or waterfront. A few short minutes and the day arrived hot +and still: hens sauntered forth to begin their tireless, day-long, +scratching search: bony curs, sleepy after their instinctive vigils +through the night, made couches in the dusty road: across from where +Terry stood at his bedroom window, the four daughters of his Tagalog +neighbor sat in a little circle on a sunny bamboo porch structure, +each intently examining another's loosened hair in a community search +for--well, for whatever might be found. + +By nine o'clock he had snapped the company through a sharp drill and +by noon had finished the weekly inspection. The afternoon passed in +preparation of monthly reports scheduled to go on the mailboat +expected in that evening. It is the function of the Constabulary to +know everything that transpires: health conditions, state of crops, +appearance of any strangers, activities of native demagogues, +movements of suspicious characters, morale of the people. Everything +is observed and reported, and summarized at headquarters to form the +basis for intelligent handling of a difficult problem. + +Of the epidemic he wrote: "A disease identified as a particularly +virulent form of pernicious malaria appeared last week among the +Bogobos in the barrio of Dalag. The Health Officer is on the scene and +in conference with the undersigned decided that the use of our troops +for quarantine duty was not necessary. It appears that he has the +disease under control." + +Under the heading "Recommendations" he set down: "Request that the old +provincial archives be searched to ascertain if a Spanish family +living in this Gulf during the last months of Spanish occupation +suffered the loss, by abduction, of a female infant. An interesting +story to this effect has been communicated to me by Bogobos, who +attribute the crime to the Hill People." + +The mailboat limped in early in the afternoon, waking the torpid town +into semblance of interested activity during the brief duration of its +stay. But before she had disappeared over the horizon native Davao had +relapsed into stupid placidity, and the Chinos had stored the meager +cargoes dropped for them--print goods, cigarettes, matches, rice, a +few small agongs, and, probably, a little opium. The lethargy of the +tropics during the hot hours is entire and complete: the angel Gabriel +himself will fail of unanimous native response unless he toots his +cheerful summons during the cool hours between dusk to dawn. + +Terry still sat in the cool orderly room at the cuartel, energetically +clearing his desk of the last accumulations of the paper work he found +a chore, when the dapper sergeant entered with his mail. Sorting +quickly through the dozen official envelopes in anxious search for one +addressed in the neat hand that always quickened his pulses, he +discovered, miserably, that there was none from her. Fighting off the +discouraged feeling that accompanied lapses in her correspondence with +him, he slowly opened a letter from Ellis. Ellis' letters, few in +number, had always been cheerful but brief statements of how matters +went on at home, usually business affairs. He put Ellis' letter in his +blouse pocket to read after dinner, then attacked the pile of official +mail: he wanted no unfinished office work to keep him in the morrow, +as he planned another quiet look at Malabanan's place. When the +Sergeant bore in the lighted lamp Terry ordered him to have the launch +ready at daylight. + +Night had wrapped the town when he crossed the plaza to his quarters. +Matak, silent as ever but of more cheerful countenance, set the table. +At his second laconic announcement Terry rose and crossed to the +dinner table, and as he seated himself a white missile was tossed +through the open window by an unseen hand and landed with a thud on +the bare floor. Matak brought it to him, and unwrapping the paper from +about the pebble Terry read the note. It was from the secreto whom he +had planted near Malabanan's plantation. + + Sir: + + At eight o'clock last night Malabanan left here with a + newcomer named Sakay and 22 of his "laborers." + + From my post I could not see if they were armed. + + They have not yet returned. (9 A.M.) + + I will follow in banca. They sailed south in a large lorcha. + + Will report further when I return. + + "47" + +Leaving his unfinished dinner, he paced the floor. The midnight +departure of Malabanan with his chief lieutenant and a majority of his +followers might mark the beginning of outlawry, or it might be a +legitimate excursion into the deepsea fisheries. Yet the secreto had +said nothing of nets, and a party of twenty-four men would be in each +others' way. Terry hastened over to the cuartel, checked up the patrol +chart, then called the Sergeant, who verified the position and route +of each of the two-man patrols who were covering the countryside. +Satisfied that his men would discover and report the landing of any +strangers within a few hours after they touched soil, Terry returned +to the house. + +He sat on the wide ledge of the window, thinking. The night seemed +unusually warm despite the stiffening breeze which blew off the Gulf; +he opened the collar of his blouse.... Where was Malabanan--what was +he doing? He saw a man's form outlined against the bright Club window +and answered the arm waved at him: it looked like Lindsey, he +thought.... "Give 'em plenty of rope and if they make a break--Smash +'em!" He shivered at the thought of sighting a gun against a fellow +man, and again in sudden rush of memory of the night in Zamboanga.... +He saw Lindsey appear again at the Club window to peer in his +direction, then turn abruptly. In a moment he saw him leave the Club +and cross the plaza, hatless.... Deane--why had no letter come--he had +expected one, wanted one.... + +He slid off the window ledge as Lindsey came in, sincere and direct as +usual. + +"Terry," he began, "I saw you sitting here alone and came over to ask +you to join us at the Club." + +"I can't, Lindsey." + +Lindsey studied the unusually pallid skin: "Why not?" he demanded. +"You're working too hard, Terry, and worrying too hard. Let's forget +it all for an hour or two!" + +"I'm much obliged, Lindsey, but I can't come to-night." + +"The fellows asked me to get you, Terry. They think it is queer you +come so seldom." + +Understanding something of Terry's weariness of spirit he strove hard +to persuade him to spend the evening in the pleasant Club, but was +unsuccessful. Desisting, he talked a few minutes with Terry and then +left, a little embarrassed, wholly disappointed. + +Alone again, Terry slumped into a big cane chair drawn up by the +table. His cheeks burned; he thought, vaguely, that he must have +shaved too closely. Loosening his stiffly starched blouse, he crackled +the letter from Ellis, opened it without much interest: then his whole +being tensed. + + Crampville, Nov. 23, 191-. + + Dear Dick: + + Everything lovely here--and things are going to pick up with + you when you read this! + + Yesterday Deane's father came in the bank and asked to see + me confidentially. Thinking he had come on bank business I + took him into my private office. Well, he just sat there + facing me for several minutes, not knowing how to begin. You + would have thought he had been robbing a train or something, + he looked so absurdly guilty! + + I just sat there watching him, taking a most unchristian joy + in his trouble, whatever it was: I have had it in for him + ever since--since you know what. I liked the way his Adam's + apple chased up and down his throat. + + Finally he swallowed hard and began: "Ellis, I came over + to--to ask you to--to send over that fox skin that Terry + gave Deane last Christmas." + + Just like that! It sure was a pill for the old boy to + swallow but he went the whole hog like the old Puritan he + is. Once started he kept going, though still phased. Said + that he was glad that you had found something worth doing + and were doing it well, that he took a lot of interest in + your goings-on--as he called it--and that Deane always read + your letters aloud. And the last thing he said before he + went out was that he hoped you would soon get spunk enough + to write her some letters she "wouldn't dast read out loud!" + + He said THAT about my brother-in-law! Great leaping frogs! + What is the matter with you? + + Get busy! Write--and make 'em sizzle! + + ELLIS. + + P.S.--I forgot to say that I am sure she made him come to + see me. Also that Sue took the skin over last night. And + also that Bruce is more than professionally interested in + the nurse he imported from Albany to look after his office. + It has been some time since he hung around Hunter's--and as + to why, I do not know, but I sure am some little guesser! + +Terry had never questioned the decision he thought she had made that +Christmas eve in returning the fox skin, had thought it hers, and +final. As the burden of a year fell from him he sat quietly, smoothing +at his stubborn, crown lock, the wistful twist of mouth ironed out by +a faint smile. He bent to read the letter again but after a few lines +the words were blurred out by a salty rush to his steady gray eyes. +Rising, he went into his bedroom and closed the door quietly behind +him, emerging in a few minutes. Perfect peace lay in his eyes and they +shone with the light that will never die in this world as long as men +live, and women. + +Two days to Christmas, he thought, and he had sent her no remembrance. +He stood at the window, tasting the cool thickness of the evening, +breathing the fragrance of ylang-ylang: leaf and frond, stirred by the +monsoon, purred in gentle contact. In the starlight the old stone +church outlined its old-world, old-time architecture in friendly +shadows which veiled the pitiful scars and age-stains: the bamboo +shacks across the square--wry, flimsy, smutted by a hotly jealous +sun--had yielded to the magic of the night to become little golden +houses in which the fairies abode till the morning stars should fade. + +A present for her ... he pondered long, the while he stifled his +desire to go outside and shout the joy that tugged at his restraint. +Suddenly he started, tightened as the idea fastened upon him, then +fairly ran to his desk. A hurried search for cable blanks and he wrote +in desperate haste that consumed four misused forms before he +accomplished an intelligible message: + + Miss Deane Hunter, Crampville, Vermont. + + Christmas greetings from palmed coast to snowy shore. Please + cable will you accept so humble a Christmas offering as an + equal share in the future of one + + RICHARD TERRY. + +Buttoning his blouse as he ran, he raced down out of the house and +over to his orderly room, where he typed the message and sent it out +by a soldier. The dozen Macabebes lounging in the _cuartel_, who had +sprung to attention when he passed, stared at him and then at each +other--this joyous, whistling boy was new to them! He crossed the dark +plaza: natives, looking out of raised windows, wondered who that +Americano was who walked in and out of the shadows of the great +acacias, singing: + + When in thy dreaming + Moons like these shall shine again: + +Being natives they did not understand the English words, but being +natives and instinctively attuned to the most ancient of emotions that +throbbed in the low baritone, they listened silently and stared out +into the night long after the singer had passed. + +He reached the house, hesitated. Lindsey had said that the fellows +wanted him to come over to the Club ... he had neglected +opportunities to be with these good friends. He sailed his cap up +through an open window and crossing a corner of the square went up +into the gayly lighted building. + +That night at the Club became a sort of tradition in the Gulf. They +still tell, wonderingly, of how he entered--a laughing, mischievous, +fun-loving boy, and of how the crowd welcomed this new Terry that none +of them had ever known before. They talk, still, of his deviltries, +the clean jests and keen wit he whetted--always at his own expense, +and as rough old Burns put it the next morning when they talked it +over: "And he niver took a drink and he niver cussed once, I'll be +---- if he did!" As the story of Terry's night at Club spread over the +Gulf all of the planters found excuses to bring them into town +afternoons in the hope of being present when he came again. They rode +in by pony or launch every night for two weeks, and then they ceased +coming. + +For two hours he held them in the spell of his infectious deviltries. +Irrepressibly gay, impish, it seemed as if he vented all of the stored +up boyishness in him, spilled it in one heaping measure. Story +followed story, in quickly shifting brogues that rocked the building +with the sidesore laughter of the transported audience; they followed +him through a seemingly inexhaustible series of anecdote, through a +dozen ridiculous parodies he sang to a one-handed accompaniment +chorded on the battered piano the while he pantomimed with free hand +and roguish face. + +"Why," whispered the astonished Cochran, "the--the--son of a gun!" + +The uproar stilled suddenly as, seated at the old piano, he forgot +them for a moment, saw a vision on the white wall that was not visible +to the others. A few deep chords from knowing fingers, then his low +voice, rich with the depth of his happiness: + + Love, to share again those winged scented days, + Those starry skies: + To see once more your joyous face, + Your tender eyes ... + +The song, or something in the deep voice, pulled at the heart-strings +of those lonely men, who, womenless, never discussed women. Burns +sniffled, then glared belligerently at the others. + +Cochran whispered to Lindsey: "Just what is there about--about that +boy? Is it because he's so pale?" + +"Yes, that's it--you poor fish! But it's about time you quit pinching +my arm--it's getting numb!" + +Flushing slightly in realization of his lapse, Terry had sprung +astraddle the corner of the billiard table, where, absurdly solemn, he +declaimed tragically, combing the classics for sepulchral passages, +plunging the intent listeners into deepest melancholy but concluding +with a droll extemporization that swept them from verge of tears to +convulsed mirth. + +Lindsey, flinging a laughter-helpless arm across a call-bell, rang an +inadvertent summons to the steward that cost him the price of the +drinks and gave Terry a breathing spell. He sat astride the billiard +table under the acetylene lights, vainly trying to smooth down his +scalplock, his eyes dancing in eager enjoyment of the hour and of the +friends who crowded around him in affectionate amazement, laughing and +shouting at each other and at him. + +Cochran's voice rose above the clamor of the room in a raucous whoop. +They all turned toward where he stood near the bulletin board reading +a message he had just torn down. + +He waved the sheet joyously: "I saw the steward tacking it up a minute +ago--it just arrived--from Casey. He couldn't wait to tell us--the +long awaited day has come for Casey!" + +He bent with laughter, then straightened and sobered to read it aloud. + +"Casey talks like the Congressional Record but he sure minces his +written words. Listen. + + Davao Club, Davao. + + Horray! American mare had a filly colt last night. Also + sixteen pigs by Berkshire boar. + + CASEY. + +A roar of merriment greeted the phraseology in which Casey had +hurriedly couched the double event of his day of days. The terse--too +terse--message passed from hand to hand till it reached Terry. He +studied it, his head cocked to one side like a puppy's and with +something of a puppy's quizzical expression. A moment and he slid +slowly from the billiard table and crossed to the corner of the room +where a typewriter had been placed for the convenience of club +members. + +They watched him, glancing uncertainly at each other, as he inserted a +sheet of paper, spelled out a few hesitating words, then jerked it +out, crumpled it in his hand. Slipping in a fresh sheet he started +slowly, pausing, rapt, after each few works. As line followed line the +room became quiet save for the click of the machine, the planters +eyeing each other, waiting impatiently for disclosure of the new +deviltry his whole attitude betokened. Pausing after each few lines to +seek inspiration at the roots of his thick tumbled hair, he wrote for +about fifteen minutes. + +Then, tearing out the sheet, he mounted the chair and with a face +owlish in its affectation of heavy wisdom, he thrust his hand in his +blouse in classic barnstorming attitude and read his creation. + + "CASEY" + + The palm-fringed gulf of fair Davao-- + The garden-spot of Mindanao-- + Has been the Theater where Surprise + Has pried apart our mouth and eyes. + But bounteous Nature, in her last, + Has all her former deeds surpassed! + + What now are Burbank's grafting deeds + Marconi's stunts, whose genius speeds + A message on a wireless tack + And makes of space a jumping-jack? + Where now does Edison hold sway? + Or radium's finder, Pierre Curié? + + Does not this deed alone suffice + To render all that men or mice + Have wrought since days of Tubal Cain + Infinitesimal, and vain? + + No man before has seen a dam + Provide the rudiments for a ham. + And not content with razor-backs + Produce a quota for the tracks. + + It seems like thistles yielding figs-- + A blooded mare with sixteen pigs! + And Truth receives a serious jolt + To find the seventeenth a colt! + Can anything on earth compare + With this performance of a mare? + + But hold! For while I eulogize, + There is another claims a prize + And puts to shame all gone before; + I mean this humble Yankee boar! + What lowly hog did yet aspire + To ribboned fame as race-track sire? + + Consult the annals of all time, + Great deeds extolled in prose and rhyme, + Delve deep in Clio's treasured store, + Exhaust encyclopedic lore-- + You will not find in one edition + A hint of such high pig-ambition! + + Had he but lived in days gone by + When Richard raised his voice on high + And offered Kingdom for a Horse, + To him he might have had recourse.... + Imagine bristly Berkshire swine + Upon the throne of Coeur de Lion!! + + But, while we give our meed of praise + To those who would these isles upraise, + Forget not him who planned all that-- + For it was Casey at the bat! + + Forget not him whose Celtic head + Outdid, when all is done or said, + That classic stunt--the herculean + Minerva sprung from Jovian bean! + + Where else but in the Philippines + Amid these sunny tropic scenes + That lull the senses into rest, + Could come this genius of the West? + For, not content with colt and swine, + He must produce domestic kine-- + To heap the brimming measure full + He perpetrates an Irish Bull! + +Finished, he still stood on the chair, frankly happy in the uproarious +response to his effort to amuse them. + +The clamor subsided in a sudden and almost incredulous appreciation of +his swift composing: and in the momentary silence during which they +gazed at the happy, laughing boy, a pair of heavy shod feet sounded on +the bare stairway--loud, hurried. + +All eyes shifted from where Terry stood on the chair to the stern +visaged Macabebe sergeant who had stopped in the open doorway. He +hesitated a moment, then urgency overbore his instinct against +violation of the white man's domain, and he stepped toward his chief. + +Terry met him in the center of the room. The Macabebe saluted, then +reported in a savage grating voice that carried clear to every +startled ear. + +"Sir, Patrol Number Seven reports that ladrones raided Ledesma's +plantation at one o'clock last night: killed one servant, stole all of +Ledesma's carabaos and money, and stole his daughter." + +Malabanan had dared! The ladrones had struck! + + + + +CHAPTER X + +MALABANAN + + +Terry's pace across the plaza taxed Mercado's shorter legs. He was +surprised that Malabanan's move came almost as a relief after the +weeks of anxious waiting. Scoffing the Constabulary, they had sought +to test the strength of the new government ... "if they make a +break--Smash 'em!" He whirled, taut, as they reached his quarters, and +the battle-loving veteran thrilled with delight as he caught the hard +ring of voice. + +"Sergeant, I'll be ready in ten minutes--you will go with me to +Ledesma's plantation--have the ponies saddled. Double every patrol +along the coast. Send the launch out at once to scour the gulf for +information about a fifty-foot lorcha--add four soldiers to the +regular crew: if they sight or learn of this lorcha they are to return +at once and report the facts--they are not to engage. Retain in the +post twenty of your very best men, under full field equipment ready to +move instantly. Issue extra ammunition. Understand?" + +"Yes, sir!" He about-faced and hurried on his mission, eager, joyful. +This was the life! + +Terry ran upstairs, turned up the light, ripped off his white clothes +and slipped into riding clothes and flannel shirt. As he buckled on +his belt and hooked in canteen and holster, he heard the Sergeant +galloping down the street with his led horse. A swift inspection of +the mechanism of his big automatic, four extra clips added to the +belt, and he ran downstairs as the Macabebe drew up. + +Reaching the beach they turned south, riding fast through the chill +darkness, Mercado keeping his pony a length behind Terry's nervous +gray. They had covered several miles before the sun rose from behind +Samal, gray-pinked sky and sea for a brief bewitching moment, then +swept the low hanging mists from gulf and mountain, and smote, +full-powered, upon the sandy shore down which they rode. The tireless +ponies--crooked of leg but splendid of head and eye in true +indications of their heritage of coarse Chinese and fine Arabian +bloods--toiled steadily over the high-tide beach, sinking coronet deep +in the soaked sand, their footprints disappearing almost as they +lifted hoofs. Courageous, the little animals scrambled over the coral +formations that blocked their path, picked their way, delicately, +through sour mangrove swamps: once, unsaddled, they swam a wide +tide-deepened creek that the riders crossed, bridle reins in hand, in +a small dugout which they found on the bank. + +Their sharp shadows had shortened a third when they swung up from the +beach and trotted down the unkempt street of Sabaga. A chorus of +howls, set up by bony, slinking curs of the type that infest all +native villages, announced their presence but there was no sign of +life in any of the shambling bamboo houses. The village seemed +deserted. + +They pulled up, the Sergeant pointing significantly at the carabaos +tied up under the high perched huts. Terry understood: fear of the +ladrones had paralyzed the natives. As he studied the closed windows +and doors, sensed the terror of these defenseless, harmless people, a +cold hatred of the spoilers narrowed his steel-gray eyes. They were +about to press on when the quiet of the town was suddenly broken by a +cry sounded from a house behind them: + +"_El Soltario! El Constabulario!_" + +The exultant shout was taken up by other voices as windows were +cautiously raised: in a moment the doors were thrown wide and a crowd +of natives swarmed about the two riders. The men shrill-voiced, women +and children hysterical, they crowded around the pair in a confidence +that was pitiful. + +Frightened beyond a white man's conception by the midnight visitation +of ladrones within a half-mile of their village, cowed, witless, they +were reassured merely by the uniforms the two riders wore--the +red-piped uniform of the small, scattered force of five thousand +Filipinos, who, ably officered, highly trained, intrepid, have never +tasted defeat: have wiped out every murderous band that raised +treacherous hand and then, outlawry scotched, have turned the power of +their discipline against the scourges of diseases, floods, cattle +plagues, typhoons. Unsung, unwept, they have carried on, their motto +Service and their goal Success. + +Terry, patient, reassuring, lingered till he had overcome their +immediate fears, left them content with their faith in the protection +he promised them. Hurrying on, Terry and his Sergeant shortly came to +Ledesma's well kept plantation, and Terry turned his pony over to the +Sergeant and approached the big bamboo house. + +Ledesma, gray-haired, distinguished looking, bearing his grief with +Tagalog stoicism, greeted him with the finished courtesy of the +Spanish tradition and led him up the precarious slatted steps into the +house. It was a house of desolation. + +The mother lay moaning wretchedly upon the cane bottom of the carved +mahogany bed which, with four chairs, a round table and a talking +machine made up the furniture of the main room. Ledesma's son, a lad +of eight, sat big-eyed and solemn near an open window, not fully +understanding the blow that had fallen but vaguely frightened by his +mother's lamentations. + +The Tagalog, dignified in his suffering, answered Terry's brief +interrogations intelligently but as he had been out on the gulf with +his fishermen during the raid he had little to offer. Terry turned to +the sobbing mother and in a few minutes she had quieted sufficiently +to tell her story. He grew paler and grimmer as she dramatized the +terror of the midnight entrance of the ominous shadows, the noiseless +gliding of bare feet, the vicious whispered threats, the cries of the +girl as they bore her away into the night and the long wait for +Ledesma's return. Finishing her story, she sank back upon the great +bed, moaning and muttering incoherently. + +Ledesma elaborated her story with details she had told him. She had +recognized neither shadowed forms nor whispering voices of any of the +four who had entered the house while the others herded the stolen +carabaos toward the waterfront. One of them had warned her that this +was what would happen to all of the natives who made too good friends +with the Americanos: and the biggest of the four had bent over her to +whisper in the dark: "And the pale Constabulario won't be able to help +you with his celebrated pistol--soon we will visit him!" + +Terry soon realized that he was wasting valuable time here--and time +was the big factor. He conferred with Mercado, who had been +questioning the scared laborers, but equally without result: no one +could identify any of the band, there was no evidence that would lead +to Malabanan's conviction, though all were certain that the biggest +figure had been his. Bidding Ledesma a hurried adieu he rode away. +Time was pressing ... Ledesma's daughter must be rescued ... soon. He +followed the trail of the stolen carabaos, the renewed lamentations of +the distracted mother ringing in his ears. + +Fifteen minutes along the plain trail torn through the brush by the +driven carabaos brought them out on the beach. There the trail ended: +it was for this that Malabanan had brought the big lorcha that the +secreto had mentioned. A moment of thought and he swung northward +toward Davao, again following the glistening beach. At noon, and low +tide, they forded the creek and swung up off the beach to breathe the +sweating ponies in the deep shade of a mango tree that spread high +above the surrounding brush. Dismounting, they stood as in a huge +green bowl: its bottom the smooth waters of the gulf, iridescent under +a zenith sun and framed as far as the eye could reach with a slant of +parched beach; the sides of the vast concavity were formed by the +verdant mat of jungled slopes that rose with ever increasing +abruptness to the far, somber-edged mountains. + +The doughty Macabebe gave not a glance at the great panorama, busying +himself in refolding the reeking saddle blankets and tightening +girths, then lighted a casual cigarette. Terry, impatient of the +necessary halt, paced the shadowed space restlessly after his first +appreciation of the sun-drenched Gulf. He turned to the Macabebe with +the first words they had passed since leaving Ledesma. + +"Sergant, what is your opinion? Was it Malabanan?" + +Mercado looked up quickly, pleased with this mark of confidence from +his uncommunicative chief. He was positive. + +"Yes, sir. Malabanan." + +"Of course--it could be no other. But--what would you do if you were +in my place--we have no legal proof." + +"I would take a platoon of our best men, sir, and visit his +hacienda--and then there would be no Malabanan, sir--unless dead men +live!" + +"But the courts, Sergeant: we could not convict him on the evidence we +have. And what you suggest would be mere murder." + +"Courts, sir? Malabanan will never face a court--I know that, sir. I +FEEL that, sir!" + +Terry studied the hard face of the little fighting man: "Sergeant, +you don't seem to fear man or devil." + +Mercado's white teeth flashed as he shrugged pleased denial of claim +to such courage, then his roving gaze focussed upon a distant object +and the confident expression altered swiftly to uneasiness, awe, +superstitious terror. Terry, startled at the transformation, followed +the direction of his dread stare and saw that his eyes were fixed upon +the distant, mist-wreathed crest of Apo. He understood. Even this +sturdy little soldier cowered before the obscure menace of the hidden +Hill People. Terry resented, vaguely, that others did not respond to +the spell of the Hills as he did. + +The five minutes had freshened the wonderful little steeds, so they +mounted and pushed on through the heat with eyes half shut against the +glare of sand and water. At four o'clock they pulled up in front of +Terry's quarters. + +A note from the secreto lay on his table. He opened it and read that +Malabanan had not returned, that the place was deserted. He had +anticipated this, knowing that the band would now operate from some +secret rendezvous in the maze of the forests. His problem now was to +locate their meeting place: his patrols must search them out. +Information would be passed quickly to them by the inhabitants of the +gulf--every planter, laborer, trader and native now knew that the +ladrones were rampant: and now the Bogobos would be most valuable to +him, as in their wanderings they covered every inch of the woods to +the edge of the Hill Country, and news of strangers would be brought +to him by swift Bogobo runners. + +A quick shower to rid himself of the intolerable stickiness of the +long hot ride, a change to fresh shirt and breeches, and he hastened +to the _cuartel_. Two patrols had come in during the afternoon, +reporting no intelligence of the bandits but bearing tidings of an +aroused American and frightened native population. The launch returned +an hour later after a fruitless search of the west coast for signs of +the lorcha. He manned it with fresh crew and detail and hurried it out +to cover every inch of the east coast. + +He ordered out two additional patrols to help cover the back country; +detached four of the twenty men whom he had retained for pursuit and +sent them to guard the heedless doctor who labored with his sick at +Dalag. The four warriors marched off cursing picturesquely at the luck +which took them away from the combat group. + +An air of expectancy hung over the _cuartel_. Terry, grave, smoothly +efficient, sat in the orderly room studying maps and keeping the +Sergeant and the clerk busy as he wove a net of patrols of gulf and +coast and foothills which would cover every inch of terrain within the +night. In the big squad room the fierce little Macabebes joked with +each other as they repolished stainless rifles and repacked field +equipment under a zealous corporal's eye. Outside, a knot of +frightened natives occluded each window facing the plaza, peering in +at the laughing soldiers, dully wondering at the makeup of these men +who grinned at the prospect of facing the dread ladrones. + +Every loose string tightened, every loophole closed, Terry left the +_cuartel_ and crossed the plaza toward his quarters. Preoccupied, he +noted that for once all of the phonographs were silenced, the plaza +deserted; and already the town's doors and windows were closed against +the coming night. The impact of Malabanan's first blow, struck thirty +miles south, had been felt in native Davao. His face hardened. + +He strove hard, under Matak's urgings, to do justice to the perfect +dinner. But a dull headache had fastened across his forehead, a +symptom he attributed to his long ride over the scorching beach and to +loss of sleep. + +He had spread his net, the quarry could not escape capture, he had but +to wait as patiently as possible for information as to their +whereabouts: some time during the night word must come from launch or +patrol, from planter or Bogobo. + +Another thought had pressed all day--the answer to his cable. He sent +Matak to the postoffice, hopeful, nervous. But nothing had come. +Rising, he found the room stifling, and he reached for his hat to go +out. Matak noticed that he had forgotten his sidearm and delayed him +long enough to lift it off the wallhook and fasten the belt about his +waist. + +The sun had set. As he walked aimlessly across the town he noticed +that all of the little stores, whose main trade came during the +evening hours, were boarded tight. He wandered down to the little dock +and out to its end, looking over the rippled waters with eyes that +ached strangely. The light faded swiftly, taking with it the pall of +oppressive humidity and freeing the Gulf to the coolness of +approaching night. None of the fishing craft which usually dotted the +gulf at this hour had ventured out. Malabanan had indeed made himself +felt. + +Terry stood near an upended pile, numb with disappointment over the +expected cablegram. The dusk yielded in the distance to a darkness +which crept toward him over the ever diminishing circle of water. + +Suddenly his dulled faculties registered an insistent warning of +danger, he caught the slight creaking of a board behind him. Aroused, +he whirled to face two figures which had halted ten feet from him in +attitudes expressive of the stealth of their approach. In the dusk he +distinguished two unusually large natives dressed in coarse unstarched +crash, and wearing shoes. Each carried a bolo thrust in braided hemp +belts. + +For a tense moment they maintained the pose in which he had surprised +them, then the shorter of the two, who was a pace in front, took a +slow step backward, uneasy in being the closer to the young American +whose eyes drilled him through the gloom. + +Terry, idly fingering his pistol belt with his left hand, shifted his +gaze to the larger of the pair, then unconsciously took a step forward +to better see that queer face. In the shock of surprise he stopped +short and his right arm jerked back into a curious position that +brought the hand below and behind his holster. The left eye of the +big Tagalog glittered white in the night! + +His impetuous, fearless step toward the pair had broken the spell +which held them motionless. The white-eyed native hesitated, glanced +uneasily at Terry's holster, then spoke in brief gutturals to his +companion. Lifting his hat in salutation he bade Terry a suave +"_Buenas Noches, Seńor_," and turning, walked off the dock, his +consort close behind him. + +Through the soft darkness Terry saw them mount two ponies which were +tethered to a tree near the end of the wharf, and heard the shrill, +mocking laugh aimed back at him by the smaller of the two as they +galloped away into the night. + +As he made his way rapidly across the poorly lighted town he gave no +thought to the fact that the pair had evidently meant him harm, +speculating upon the peculiar birthmark in the eye of the larger +Tagalog and wondering if he could be the man for whom Matak had sought +so many years. + +He found Matak sitting crosslegged upon the floor fastening brass +buttons into some uniforms which had just returned from the +_lavendera_. Terry stopped before him: + +"Matak, I want to thank you for reminding me of my gun. As it +happened, it didn't do any harm." + +Stepping to the window he blew a blast upon his whistle, an unusual +summons that brought Mercado running across the plaza in most +unsoldierly fashion. Entering, he cracked his heels in salute, his eye +agleam with hope that the break had come. Terry dismissed Matak from +the room before addressing him. + +"Sergeant, do you know anybody in this Gulf who has an albino left +eye--an eye that is all white but the pupil?" + +"No, sir." + +"Who might know?" + +"The Chino Lan Yek, sir. He knows everybody--everybody owes him money, +sir!" + +"Fetch him here." + +In a few minutes Lan Yek stood before Terry, his Mongolian +imperturbability shaken by this night summons from an officer of the +law. With the natives' love of ragging a Chinamen, Mercado had been +very stern and mysterious concerning his mission--and Lan Yek knew a +thing or two about opium smuggling that bothered him as he faced the +American. + +Terry repeated his inquiry regarding the identity of the white-eyed +native, and Lan Yek's response was startlingly illuminating. + +"Yes, me know him. Me know white-eyed fellah. His name Malabanan!" + +Malabanan! This had been the "visit" they had told Ledesma's wife they +would pay Terry. + +"Lan Yek, when did you see him last?" + +"To-night he come, buy cigalet, no pay--talk 'Melican talk--tell me +'Go to Hell.'" + +Terry gestured his dismissal and the nervous Celestial scurried away, +relieved that the interrogation had not been intimate. + +Terry briefly recounted to Mercado what had occurred on the dock, +ordered him to send out a patrol at once to circle the town at a +distance of five miles to discover if possible upon what trail the +pair had ridden out, emphasizing that the patrol was to return and +report to him, regardless of the hour of arrival. + +"And hold the men in instant readiness. I may need them at any moment +during the night." + +There was at least one supremely happy man in the Gulf that night, for +the Sergeant's joy was a living thing as he departed to put the orders +into effect. + +A moment later Terry heard the kitchen door open slowly, and looking +up he beheld the mottled face and burning eyes of the Moro. It was +manifest that Matak had overheard Lan Yek. He stood in the doorway +battling for his voice. + +"Master," he said huskily, "I knew you would help me find him." + +Gratitude suffused his face, then receded before the tide of +Mohammedan fanaticism and fury which welled up from his bitter heart. +Stepping backward, he kept his eyes fastened upon Terry till he had +passed through the door into the kitchen. + +Terry was deeply disturbed by this unforeseen turn of events. He had +decided against informing Matak until he had lodged Malabanan safely +behind prison walls, then to confront him with the Moro and if he +proved to be Matak's long sought enemy, he would add the charge of +triple murder against the desperado. The day of private vengeance must +pass in Mindanao--vengeful killings were murder, punishable as murder. + +He called to Matak, then again, but there was no answer. He hurried +into the kitchen, into Matak's room, then down into the double stable +back of the house. But Matak was gone, and so was Terry's spare pony. +Realizing the futility of searching for him in the night, he composed +himself as best he could. It added another phase to the +exigency--everything now rested with the patrols who were tirelessly +combing the Gulf to discover the new rendezvous. + +He strove for patience, but waiting is hard. He picked up a volume of +poems, discarded it impatiently for a magazine, threw this back on the +table and withdrew from the glare of the lamp which added to his +insistent headache. Looking out on the dark town he saw that even the +Club was unlighted, the first time since his arrival in Davao. His jaw +tightened as he pictured the isolated planters sitting through the +night, rifles on knees, listening for hostile movements in the jungle +surrounding their hardwon acres. + +Drawing up a big cane chair he sat in the shadow looking out into the +dark. The sky was like a vast black colander perforated haphazardly +with a myriad brilliant openings which paled and glowed. The crescent +of the young moon hung over the faintly outlined mountains: he watched +it slant slowly down till its lower point was absorbed in the heavy +mist which blanketed Apo. + +Malabanan loose with his ravaging band ... Matak, alone, searching for +him in the night ... Ledesma's daughter, that gentle, big-eyed girl, +at the mercy of such beasts ... would the patrols never return? He +rose and paced the floor, frantic with the enforced inaction. +Schooling himself to a semblance of patience, he sat through another +long hour. + +Why, he thought dully, should he have had the presumption to expect +an answer to his cable ... she was too kind to cable "no" ... her +letter of explanation would be a month in coming.... He watched as the +mists around Apo gathered, thickened, darkened: the banks were +flashlighted into white billows, then the soft rumble of thunder +rolled down the slopes, a vanguard of the rainstorm which rustled the +forest tops as it swept down nearer, louder, to expire as it touched +the edge of the town: a few drops splashed heavily on the tin roof of +the silent house, then the stars shone more brilliantly than before +and Apo loomed sharp against a cleared sky. + +It was a long night. At last he rose wearily and seated himself at his +desk, shading his dulled eyes. A moment of indecision, and he wrote to +his sister. + + Dear Sue-sister: + + Sometimes your sweet letters breathe the fear that harm + might befall me. You need not worry. + + I live in a lovely land, a land of sunny days and balmy + nights, a land of courteous, friendly folk. + + I live in a land where pneumonia is unknown, or sunstroke: + cholera perished in boiling water, and behind our mosquito + nets we laugh at malaria. + + Should other dangers threaten, I have my company of loyal + Macabebes: laughing fighters, stern lovers, they guard me + while I sleep. They like me, I think. + + Nothing but Old Age can befall me here; and I think the + Fountain of Youth lies not where old Ponce searched--but + here, on Apo's towering crest. I am going there to search + ... some day ... before I am too old. + + I have but one fear: that you and the others whom I love may + some day cease to-- + +His head ached intolerably. He dropped his pen in sudden listlessness, +crossed aimlessly to the window. Dawn wavered over Samal. The plaza +was dark save for the lights which blazed in the cuartel to show that +the Macabebes, too, had kept the long vigil. + +Suddenly he saw four fagged little Macabebes emerge from the shadowed +street and enter the path of light which streamed from the wide +cuartel door. Shoulders drooping under heavy packs after the long +night's hike, they staggered into the building. + +A moment, and a fiercely glad yell rose from the barracks, and the +Sergeant bounded out of the doorway to speed toward Terry's house. +Terry straightened his relaxed muscles as the Sergeant burst into the +room. + +A patrol had succeeded! They had learned from Bogobos that during the +afternoon a number of unknown armed natives had gathered in the three +deserted shacks near Sears' ford. Malabanan and Sakay were riding +westward toward Sears' plantation. On the way in the patrol had +encountered Matak riding hard on Malabanan's trail! + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +INTO THE FORBIDDEN HILLS + + +Terry's two black pistols, canteen and packed saddle bags lay on the +table. Without a word he snapped holster and canteen into his belt +holes and the Sergeant picked up the bags and extra gun. As he blew +out the light Terry first realized that dawn had come. They hurried +silently to the cuartel, in front of which the sixteen impatient +Macabebes were drawn up, each equipped for the field and holding +saddled ponies. As he drank the coffee that the thoughtful Mercado had +prepared for him Terry gestured questioningly toward the ponies. + +"I knew you would want to travel fast, sir, so I borrowed these ponies +from planters. They are very angry about the ladrones, sir, and were +glad to help." He found ample reward for his foresight in Terry's +unspoken commendation. + +Several brown heads appeared at windows to stare after the little +cavalcade that trotted down the side of the plaza at daylight and took +the west trail into the brush. It was not a smart outfit, it lacked +all of the flourish and the trappings of parade, but it did look eager +to use the carbines that flapped from pommel straps. Terry's compact +gray set the pace for the dauntless men who rode behind him, and the +Sergeant brought up the rear snapping sharp-voiced invectives that +withered three over-zealous riders. + +A long trail lay before them. Terry maintained a steady trot that ate +up the miles. The day grew hot, the brush thicker. Twice he halted the +column to water the ponies at shallow fords: once he stopped to smooth +saddle blankets and resaddle. + +He felt the heat intensely. His skin seemed dry and hot, and he +slanted his campaign hat low over his eyes to dim the glare of the sun +and relieve the strain on his eyeballs, which ached fiercely. His +pony, having worked off its excess of spirit, settled down into a +tireless pace that tested the picked mounts the planters had selected +as their best, and the miles passed in silence save for staccato +pounding of hoofs on hard packed earth and the swish of underbrush +that lined the narrow crooked trail. + +At noon he drew up at Sears' plantation to freshen men and beasts. +Sears tore out to meet them, greeted Terry enthusiastically and ran +inside again to hurry his cook while Terry superintended the care of +the ponies. When Sears' foreman bore the soldiers into the cookshack +for a hot dinner of rice and fish Terry passed up the high stairway +and into the cool house, there to sink into a big chair, faint. + +Sears was energetically speeding his boy in the laying of his +"company" linens and silver. He lumbered over to Terry and in his +enthusiasm shook hands again. Feeling the hand hot to his touch, he +glanced keenly down into the burning eyes. + +"Man, you're sick! You shouldn't be out in the sun in this +condition!" + +Terry mustered a weak laugh but Sears insisted: he poured out a stiff +drink of Scotch and when Terry refused this he half wrecked his +medicine chest in search of aspirin. He found only two tablets, and +these Terry swallowed obligingly, finding almost instant relief as the +perspiration cooled his parched skin. + +Sears' anxious hospitality suffered during lunch as despite a brave +show of appetite Terry ate nothing, but briefly outlined the situation +that was taking him into the foothills. + +"So they are coming this way?" Sears exclaimed. "I hadn't heard it yet +but I knew something was up. Last night some Bogobos--they are fine to +me since you--since I--" he floundered a moment, "I mean they're fine +to me. Well, anyway, last night they came to tell me that two strange +natives, both armed, had ridden past here toward the foothills: didn't +know who the pair were--you may, though, as they described one as +havin' a white eye." + +Terry nodded: "That is Malabanan, Sears." + +Sears whistled: "Pwhew! I am gettin' some likely neighbors--probably +the other was his side-kicker, that laughin' devil of a Sakay! Well, +anyway, that's not all, Lieutenant. About two hours ago my foreman saw +your Moro boy, Matak. He was ridin' that black pony of yours and +stopped to ask my foreman if he had seen two natives ridin' by, +describin' Malabanan. Then he beat it after 'em." + +Terry was watching through the open window and when he saw his men +emerge from the shack he rose apologetically, listening attentively +while Sears told him the best trail to the three abandoned shacks +that Terry sought. Sears, distressed in the helpless way of physically +big men, detained him while he refilled his canteen with fresh water +and sought Terry's habits long enough to again try to press a Scotch +upon him. + +"Sears, that aspirin fixed me up. I wish you would give me a couple +more of those tablets." + +Further search proved fruitless, he had no more. He turned to Terry +with a sorrow out of all proportion to the situation. + +"Lieutenant, I haven't got any more. But here's some quinine--take a +few grains every few hours--it may help you." + +Terry thrust the vial of capsules into his shirt pocket and after +thanking Sears hastened outside to where his men were tightening +girths under the watchful Sergeant's eye. Sears hovered over Terry, +offering advice, expostulating, as Terry mounted and gathered rein. + +"Lieutenant," he said, "you know the ford is just above the pool they +call the 'Crocodile Hole.' Cross the ford, come back along the bank, +and you'll find a trail leadin' to the three shacks in the woods." + +"I know, Sears. Thanks. Good-by." + +"_Adios_," Sears called. Then he stood watching the little band trot +through the gate and into the woods. His eyes moistened, he raised his +big fist against an invisible foe. + +"If they get him--" he muttered through lips that trembled unashamed, +"if they get that boy--that sick boy, I'll--I'll--we'll ... and I +didn't have any medicine for him--the only thing he ever asked me +for--or ever asked anybody for!" + + * * * * * + +For the first time Terry urged the gray. Matak over two hours ahead of +him and mounted on the next best pony in the Gulf ... Malabanan hours +ahead of Matak, riding toward the Ledesma girl held for him in one of +the three shacks.... He pushed the pony hard across the open +clearings, recklessly forced him through the underbrush that in +frequent areas obliterated the trail. They were now well inland and +mounting a perceptible grade toward the foothills: the sluggish stream +they had paralleled all day ran swift here. Once, where the trail +twisted near the bank, they heard the rush of rapids, and a mile +farther on they came in sight of a curiously soundless waterfull. They +had reached the Bogobo country but the afternoon quiet was unbroken by +the sound of agongs. Fear had reached the foothills. + +His pony was too much for the courageous but smaller mounts of the +Macabebes and Terry gradually drew ahead. He must overtake Malabanan +before nightfall.... Ledesma had not put his confidence into words, +but he had looked it--had trusted him ... the pony's head and neck +dripped, a welt of lather fringed the saddle blanket over the withers +and down both shoulders. The Sergeant, seeing his men fall behind, +galloped up into the lead and cursed them on with graphic phrases +culled from the English, Spanish and Malay tongues. But it was +useless: the gray pony carried its desperately anxious rider faster +than their jaded mounts could travel. Terry drew out of sight, but +they rode on. + +All through the afternoon Terry had been dimly conscious that the +headache had returned, that his face was flushed and hot, but the fast +pumping blood seemed to energize his faculties. Never had he felt so +keyed-up, so sinewy of nerve. + +The hours flew with the miles. At five o'clock he crashed out of the +woods into an open spot where the trail bent down toward the river to +skirt a deep black pool--the Bogobos' Crocodile Hole, which none of +them would ever approach. It was a roughly circular depression +extending from bank to bank, a hundred feet in diameter; it lay just +below the ledge of rock that made a low-water ford but which, at high +water, was the brink of a falls which had worn a deep hole in the soft +river bottom. + +Terry slowed his steaming pony as he rounded the pool. Stories that he +had overheard flashed across his mind, ghastly stories whispered by +tremulous native lips into credulous brown ears, of the size of the +Thing which dwelt here, of its age, its incredible scaly length and +girth, its patient devilish cunning; of the toll it had taken of three +generations, tales you would not care to hear--like that of the old +blind Bogobo who lost his way, and groping for the trail with naked +hands--no, you would not care to hear such appalling tales. + +Riding the river ledge above the pool he glanced down into the deep, +quiet waters but his thoughts snapped back to the present as his pony +balked at the edge of the ford. The gray had never balked at water, +and attributing the display of vice to fatigue, he tried to gentle him +into the shallow water, then touched him with spur--minutes were +precious now. Driven by the steel, the gray stepped gingerly into the +stream, took several steps, then snorted as he wheeled back to the +bank. Terry swung him back sharply and sent the spur deep into the +flanks of the trembling beast: half wild with the unaccustomed +punishment he dashed into the water and splashed across in frightened +bounds that took him up the opposite bank into the brush. + +Terry brought the pony round and stroked its neck soothingly to calm +the unaccountable terror apparent in the nervous tossing of head and +distension of red nostrils. As he guided him along the bank a sound of +disturbed water brought Terry's head up sharply: heavy ripples circled +away from a spot near the opposite shore just under the ford. As he +peered keenly he discerned the indistinct outline of something that +looked like a heavy log sink slowly into the dark depths. The pony +fretted until they left the river-bank to follow an old trail that led +into the woods. + +Here Terry held him to a walk, riding cautiously, pausing at each turn +of the trail to scrutinize every inch of brush intently, ears alert to +faintest sound. He knew he was nearing the deserted huts. He advanced +several hundred yards thus, searching for the clearing, listening. +Discerning well ahead a space where the sky was open above a cleared +area he dismounted, hurriedly knotted the reins to a sapling, snatched +his extra pistol from the saddle holster, then crept forward through +the early forest twilight, wary, both pistols at full cock. + +Creeping round the first bend in the trail he searched the near +thickets with penetrating keenness: he knew Malay treachery. His eyes, +flashing from side to side, focussed upon a dim, motionless figure +outlined in the shadow beneath the trunk of a large tree that stood on +the edge of the clearing. His back was to Terry and he seemed +engrossed in some silent drama that was being enacted in the clearing +out of Terry's field of vision. + +Terry crept toward him soundlessly and when he had covered half of the +distance that separated them he was overjoyed to recognize him as +Matak. As Terry's lips parted in a low call, Matak glided from the +tree like a swift shadow just as a shriek of pain and terror rent the +silence of the woods, followed by a vowelled curse and the sound of a +heavy hand on naked flesh. + +As Terry sprang forward to the edge of the clearing he heard behind +him the distant sound of ponies driven recklessly through the +underbrush, and knew that the Macabebes were coming up! + +He halted at the edge of the clearing, unobserved by the crowd of +bandits who had sprung out of the three disused huts when Matak leaped +into the open: with ready rifles and bolos they awaited the command of +their white-eyed leader, who stood in front of them, startled, but +coolly confronting the Moro. Ledesma's daughter, who had fallen under +Malabanan's heavy blow, staggered to her feet and ran blindly into +the arms of a laughing rough whom Terry recognized as Malabanan's +companion at the dock--the sardonic Sakay. + +For a moment the tableau held. Terry could not see Matak's face but he +heard the tense fury of the voice: + +"Malabanan, you speak English?" + +Malabanan looked him over insolently before answering: "Yes." + +Moro met Tagalog in the Bogobo's country on the common ground of the +American-brought English tongue! + +"Malabanan, you know me?" + +"No." + +"You remember one night--nine years now--on Basilan? You remember kill +old man, old woman, then girl on boat? You remember kill little boy, +too, and throw in sea?" + +The Moro's voice dripped with the released passions of nine years of +brooding over terrible wrongs. As he saw the light of recollection +appear in the desperado's dark face, he struggled to speak the words +that had been dammed up so long: + +"Malabanan, I am that boy.... Now you die!" + +He snatched the long knife from the scarf knotted about his waist in +Moro fashion, his knees bending under him in a tigerish crouch as he +slowly circled toward his powerful enemy. Malabanan drew his great +bolo with a contemptuous sneer at the little Moro and before Terry +could have interfered had he wished, they leaped at each other. Matak +dodged down under the first awful sweep of the gleaming bolo and as +he came up he struck at Malabanan, not with the classic downward +stroke, but UP! + +As the glittering blade went home, deep, Malabanan threw the Moro from +him with a convulsive heave that crashed him senseless against the +stump of a charred tree. His colorless left eye, lusterless in strange +contrast to the baleful fire that glowed in the right, Malabanan +gathered his fast ebbing strength in a last effort and staggered +toward the unconscious Moro, his glittering weapon upraised, heedless +of the pale American who stepped out with a rasping: "Halt!" + +But he sank limp as Terry's heavy pistol roared a message he did +heed--though never heard--sagging down to sprawl across the Moro's +legs. + +Terry leaped full into the clearing and covered the ladrones, who +stood paralyzed by the swiftness of the tragedy, stunned by the +dramatic appearance of the young American whose pistols were famed +throughout the Gulf, and as they hesitated the Macabebes smashed out +of the fringe of timber, threw themselves off their reeking ponies and +moved to surround the band. + +Sakay, supporting the girl as a screen, drew back toward the nearest +of the huts and opened fire at Terry with a rifle. The ladrones +scattered for cover and in a minute the woods rang with their +fusillade and with the deadly volleys sent in answer by the Macabebes. + +It was a brief combat. Though outnumbered nearly two to one the +soldiers were disciplined and highly trained marksmen. In a moment six +of the bandits were on the ground, nine threw up their hands in +surrender and the balance fled through the woods. The Sergeant, who +had been slugging away with his rifle with a calculating attention to +the details of marksmanship belied by the fierce joy in his brilliant +black eyes, ceased firing at Terry's shouted command and detached +eight of his man, who caught up some frightened ponies and raced +through the woods to head off the fleeing brigands. + +Sakay, using the fear-crazed girl as a shield from behind which to +shoot at Terry, found his aim thwarted by her struggles. Seeing Terry +advancing straight upon him and fearful of exposing himself to the +fire of the two black pistols, he dropped his rifle and holding the +girl directly in front of him, called out in English: + +"I surrender! I surrender! I surrender, Lieutenant!" + +His deep anxiety subsiding when he realized that he would suffer no +immediate harm, Sakay threw the girl from him with a brutal force that +sent her prostrate and was promptly rewarded by the husky Mercado, who +had been under American tutelage long enough to understand the virtue +and the technique of what is vulgarly known as "a good swift kick." + +The Sergeant escorted Sakay into the group of prisoners rounded up by +the four soldiers and set them to digging a grave for the six, who, +with Malabanan, would "never appear before the court." In a few +minutes the pursuit party rode into the clearing herding all but three +of the criminals who had fled: those three were carried in and placed +alongside the grave. + +Terry worked over Matak, who had been merely stunned. In a few minutes +the Moro recovered fully and went back to secure Terry's pony, which +he had abandoned near the ford. + +While the Sergeant attended to the duties of identification and burial +of the dead Terry led the girl into one of the huts and quietly +comforted her. She told him of the ordeal of her forced journey +through the greater part of a day and a night, of the captors who +leered at her but remained aloof because of fear of Malabanan, of +being waked from sleep at Malabanan's arrival just before Matak +appeared. Malabanan and Sakay, worn with the night's ride, had stopped +during the noon hours to rest in the woods. + +When it came time to go, Terry placed the girl on his pony, declining +another mount, as his head now ached too fiercely to withstand jolting +in the saddle. He set off in the lead, afoot, followed by the +prisoners under escort, Mercado bringing up the rear with the girl. + +As they neared the ford Terry heard a sharp out-cry from one of the +guards, followed by the sharp crack of a rifle. Whirling, he saw the +brush on his right agitated by the movements of a figure that crashed +unseen through the tangle of vegetation. Two soldiers flung themselves +off their ponies and leaped in pursuit, pausing fruitlessly for sight +of the fleeing form and dashing on with trailed rifles. The aggressive +Mercado galloped up, shouting an explanatory "Sakay!" as he charged +straight into the brush. + +Terry sped down the trail toward the river, emerging on the bank just +as the lithe Sakay burst from the brush. Laughing derisively at Terry +Sakay leaped toward the stream, reached the bank in four great bounds +and leaped far out from the low edge. As the bandit's powerful body +curved in the air Terry's pistol barked twice before the supple form +straightened to strike the pool in a perfect dive. + +Terry leaped down the bank to cover Sakay when he should rise. Leaning +over the ledge he distinguished the white-clad figure sliding +gracefully through the dark depths with the momentum of the dive: ten +feet, twenty, thirty, then it slowed, started to rise. + +But as he watched, tense ... there was a rush of a massive armored +body through the shadowed depths, a great scaly thing swirled the +limpid pool, a flash of hideous teeth--and the white form was gone. + +Spellbound with the unutterable horror of what he had seen, Terry +watched the waters become quiet again, but turned away, aghast, when +bubbles rose like tiny silver globes against the jet depths. When he +turned back there were no more bubbles. + +He sank down on the bank, sickened. The Macabebes had come up with +their meek prisoners and waited at the ford, restless, their eyes +fixed on the oily pool. Even Mercado was anxious to be gone. +Unaffected by the terrible fate of the bandit he had hunted, he viewed +the approach of sunset with vague concern, for this was the nearest +that he had ever been to the edge of the Hill Country. + +Terry strove to rise, and at last realized that he was ill. He sank +back, dazed with the sudden force of a fever that coursed through his +body achingly, that throbbed in his head with a tumultuous roar. He +tried again, but fell back, dizzy. He rested till his head cleared, +then sat up and called Mercado to him. His voice came weak. + +"Sergeant," he explained, "I do not feel--like going in to-night. You +push on--rest at Sears' to-night. Keep the prisoners in his corral +under guard. He will look after Seńorita Ledesma and the men. Tell him +that I request that he come here and dynamite this pool--thoroughly. +Push on to Davao next morning and send for Ledesma to get his +daughter; and if I am not there by that time, you send a brief report +of this affair to Zamboanga. Understand?" + +"Yes, sir, but you look sick, sir!" A quick concern flooded the +Macabebe's heavy face. + +"Yes--I do not feel--very well. I am going to cut across country to +get to Doctor Merchant tonight. It is only six miles straight through +the woods." + +The Macabebe led his charges across the ford, then, worried, returned +to Terry's side. Reassured somewhat by the brave smile, he mounted +after receiving a final injunction to take Matak in with him if they +overtook him. As the Macabebes herded their cowed prisoners into the +woods across from where he lay, Terry lay prone in another of the +intermittent surges of mounting fever that robbed him of his strength +and faculties. + +When the wave of fever subsided he rose weakly, took his bearings by +the low sun and crossing the ford struck straight into the woods in +the direction he knew Dalag to lie. Entrance into the deep woods +brought instant twilight. He had covered a mile when a resurgent tide +of fever brought him down on the thick carpet of dead leaves that +covered the darkening forest floor, and for several minutes he lay +gripped in the sickening spasm that rioted through his veins and +robbed him of all reason. When it passed he rose dizzily to stumble on +under the trees, which reached up toward a sky glorious with the +flaming reds and deep pinks that mark the passing of a hot day over +the Celebes Sea. + +He staggered on, conscious only of the necessity of getting to the +doctor and of the agonizing explosions in his head which threatened to +rend his skull asunder at each jarring footfall. The sky grayed, +darkened. Dusk found him a short quarter-mile further on, where +another surge of raging temperature brought him low. Another followed +swiftly. When he rose at last, night had wrapped the thick woods in +its black mantle, and he was no longer conscious of direction, or of +purpose, or of self. He stumbled along dazedly, trying to recall the +purpose that had taken him into the woods. + +The paroxysms passed. The fever had reached a consistent high level, +lending him a singular buoyancy of body and of spirit, but his reason +was gone. He walked faster and faster, his vision keen under the dark +canopy, his mind racing with disordered ideas, a kaleidoscope of long +displaced memories. Often he stopped short, puzzled, vainly striving +to stem the fugitive currents of conceits in his efforts to remember +what purpose had brought him here. His head throbbed. He kept step +with each pulsing ache--it seemed to help. He hurried on through the +night. + +The way grew steeper, always he traveled up the ascent. Flooded with +the hot energy that swept through his arteries, each passing hour +seemed to add to the fires that fed his strength. + +The gray beams of early dawn, filtering through a now taller vault of +forest, found him far up the slope and mounting still steeper grades. +He could not quite remember what his mission was ... something that +the Governor wanted, he thought, something he, too, wanted to do ... +or was it a Christmas present for Deane.... + +He climbed higher, laughing, singing, talking loudly. Stumbling over a +log his burning eyes had not seen, he turned in grotesque humor to +offer curtsy and abject apology, then hastened on upward. Later, +carroming from a huge tree he had hit head on, he addressed it in +grave good humor: "Please keep to the right." His flushed face purple +in the green light of the deep woods, he hurried on, again worrying +over the nature of his forgotten mission and hysterically impressed +with its importance. + +The sun rose high overhead but it was twilight in the deep forest +through which he clambered, over decayed logs, through rank +overgrowth, past little streams of filthy water flowing in sullen +silence through channels overgrown with moss. No sounds of forest life +challenged the vast silence of the damp and cheerless vault of green, +no song of bird or shrill thrumming of insects that makes the tropical +forest a palpitant discordance during the hot hours of the day. + +His laughter rang mockingly through the shadowed silence, the loud +vagaries of his delirium carried far tinder the overhang of tunneled +foliage. + +"It's all right, Sears ... poor little fox, you won't ... you need not +worry about me, Doctor ... on Sunday, too--snowshoes and all.... LOOK +OUT MAJOR!... and we need you here, Dick,--Ellis and Susan, Father +Jennings, the foreigners--all of us...." + +Always he kept his face turned toward the heights, and climbed. The +afternoon, waning, found him groping slowly upward, the furious energy +of his fever wearing off. His voice was weaker but he babbled +unceasingly, through dry lips parted in set fever-grin. + +"I hope I did not miss, Sakay. I hope I did not miss.... 'Imagine +bristly Berkshire swine upon the throne of Coeur de Lion!'--and if +they make a break, SMASH 'EM!... Don't wait, Deane, don't wait." + +Unaware of the ill omened forms which, surrounding him while still the +sun was high overhead, had kept apace all afternoon with his +slackening gait, he halted under a huge tree, leaning against the +trunk in sudden weariness. His voice, weak, tremulous, carried to an +audience he could not see: + + Just to know that years so fair might come again, + Awhile ... + + Oh! To thrill again to your dear voice-- + Your smile.... + +At the end of the song his hoarse laughter rasped through, the woods. +He sank down, tried to rise, then lay where he had fallen beneath the +great tree. He lay still while the last white rays of the dying sun +faded from the topmost leaves far overhead, heedless of the narrowing +circle of eyes which flashed in the dusk. + +Then, as he weakly pressed a hot hand against his scalding eyes in a +gesture of pain that was infinitely pathetic, the Hill People closed +in. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE MAJOR FOLLOWS + + +The big wall fan, a new symbol of the progress of the American +undertaking, oscillated in jumpy turns that rustled the papers on the +polished desk. Major Bronner sat staring at the maps which covered the +walls of his office. His heavily tanned face bore new lines, worry and +grief and there was a new set to the heavy jaw. + +Rising with sudden determination he hurried down the corridor into the +Governor's office and faced Governor Mason with the strained aspect of +a strong man sorely beset. The Governor gravely studied the eyes that +bored beseechingly into his own, then reached into one of his desk +baskets and lifted a stiff paper. + +"Major," he said slowly, "here is Lieutenant Terry's promotion. They +forwarded it immediately after receipt of my telegraphed report of his +prompt action against Malabanan's brigands." As the Major did not take +it but continued to regard him steadily out of brooding eyes, the +Governor returned the commission to the basket and fell to drumming +his desk. + +He broke the long silence: "Major, you really think you should go?" It +was hardly a question. + +"Governor, I must go!" + +The older man studied his inkwell: "Major, it was over three weeks ago +that Sergeant Mercado sent you his report: it seems rather--rather--" +he was loath, to say it--"rather hopeless." + +He remained in contemplation of his uninspiring inkwell for a long +minute then delved into his basket for a letter received that morning +from the Lieutenant Governor of Davao, a letter he had read many +times. He scanned it again. + +"Major, Terry has been missing over three weeks, was ill when he was +last seen. It seems certain that he either succumbed to fever or +else--you know he entered the woods right at the edge of the Hill +Country, and if he strayed off his course he is almost certainly--" + +Bronner broke in upon him, frantically unwilling to hear the word +spoken. He was furious in his grief. + +"Yes, they wait three weeks before reporting his disappearance--the +best officer in the Service--sick--alone in the woods!--no rations, +no--nothing, except a canteen and a pistol! If I were governor I'd +fire the whole damned crew down there!" + +The Governor regarded him with wise patience till he choked into +silence. "No, Major. There was no fault. The Sergeant reported in +Davao that Terry had gone to Dalag to see the doctor, so it was not +until Merchant finished his work there that they learned from him that +Terry had not reached him. It was no fault of any one, Major; just +hard, hard luck. Now, I have been thinking over your request to go in +search of Terry's--in search of Terry, and I have decided. The +despatch boat is now at the wharf subject to your orders. She makes +something over twenty knots." + +"Governor, I'm--I appreciate your--Governor, it means a good deal to +me!" + +"I will not detain you, Major. You do as you find best when you reach +Davao. Pacify the planters first--this report says that they are wild +with grief and rage. Of course you will take temporary command of +Terry's Macabebes. The entire company is there now and with them you +could doubtless smash your way up into the Hills. I had other hopes, +hopes of winning them peaceably--hopes in which Terry figured.... +Well, I know you are anxious--so run along." + +He rose and came around the big desk to take the Major's hand in a +fatherly farewell. After the Major had torn out of the room the +Governor closed the door and stood at the window looking out over the +busy Straits, his face older, stripped of the optimism with which he +invariably confronted all of these young men who were associated with +him in the Moro task. Sometimes it all seemed so hopeless, so futile. + +For a long time the Governor stood at the window. He was facing +westward toward India, that mystic ever-ever land that had been the +goal of all the nations since before Columbus and was finally won by +the steady strength and genius of a meager island people. But its +cost--its cost in fair-haired, ruddy-cheeked youth! As in other +matters of government we had learned colonization at Mother England's +knee, had sought to apply her precepts, to avoid her mistakes: but +there was no avoiding that penalty, that expenditure of young men. +Quotations from the interpreter of the white man's burden came to his +lips: "'_The deaths ye have died I have watched beside._'" He +whispered the line over and over again. + +He was still gazing somberly over the wide waters when Bronner rushed +down the pier below him and leaped into the cockpit of the power boat. +An orderly followed on the run and dumped the Major's luggage into the +boat. A Moro cast off the restraining hauser and the snowy hull leaped +forward, nose high in the air. When it reached a point opposite where +the Governor stood its stern was buried deep by the terrific thrash of +the screw, and borne on the swift ebb tide it streaked out of sight +into the west, like a thing alive. The Major was off--the Constabulary +guards its own. When one falls, others search, and bury, and avenge. + + * * * * * + +The Major settled on the stern seat for the long ride. He had his +thoughts, thoughts that set his jaws till they ached. The motors +roared as they coursed through a shifting panorama of islands, little +heavens of cool verdure as seen from the power boat which rode low, +rising and falling gently in the smooth swells which ribbed the +Celebes from horizon to horizon. From the low seaboard they looked +back upon a thin trail of white dashes which marked the wake their +speed had traced upon the tops of the oily undulations. Adams, the +mechanician, a slim, clean-cut young fellow, scarce glanced at Bronner +through the passing hours but hovered over his engines, absorbed in +their operation. + +The night passed, and the day was nearly done as they shot up to the +little wooden dock at Davao with a grinding of gears in reverse. +Adams silenced the motors, then turned in stiff fatigue to the Major +with an expression that transfigured his greasy features. + +"Major, I've broken the record for this run by four hours. Now it's up +to you!" + +"You know, then, why I'm--" + +"Yes, I know. And I knew Terry--in Sorsogon Province. I was down and +out, a beachcomber,--booze. And he was kind to me, when I needed +kindness.... It's up to you, Bronner." + +The Major stepped up on the dock, unsteady of limb after the night and +day, his ears roaring from the long punishment. Stamping the length of +the dock to regain his land legs, he returned to meet Doctor Merchant, +who had hastened down to the dock. His heavy hurry had glittered him +with a profuse perspiration that coursed down over his exposed skin +areas, and he wiped his hands and wrists with a big bandana before +shaking hands with the Major. His entire mien bespoke anxiety. + +"We expected you, Major--though not so soon. You know all about--about +it?" + +The Major nodded: "The Governor showed me Whipple's letter." + +"Well, that's about all we know here. Terry was sick when he went +after Malabanan's outfit--he never should have gone. And after doing +that job--and it was SOME job, believe me!--he started cross country +to see me--knew he was sick. It was over two weeks later that I +finished and came in--and when I arrived without him there was a +regular riot!" + +He wiped his face and neck: "Major, I'll never forgive myself for +exposing him to that fever--but I couldn't do a thing till he +came--they would do nothing I told them. Do you know how it was he +caught it?" He was at once mournful and enraged. "Gave his mosquito +net to the chief's wife because she was 'soon to become a mother,' as +he put it: and right after he rode away I found she had cut the net +into four big pieces and was using them for _towels_! Yes, sir! For +towels!" + +He wiped away with the bandana, thinking that thus he concealed his +emotions. + +"Major, you've got your work cut out--a bunch of the planters are in +town this afternoon, planning a raid into the Hills. Lindsey and Sears +are the wildest--the whole bunch will get wiped out if they set foot +in the Hills! You had better see them right away--and you'll have your +hands full--they're mighty determined." + +He paused, fretting, then turned his big bulk with surprising +swiftness: "Well--say something! What are you going to do about this? +Going to clean out the Hills? Or are you going to let--" he stormed on +and on, checking the flow at last to press his hospitality upon the +Major. + +"Thanks, Medico, but I'll just sling my bag in Terry's house and sleep +there to-night: and I can eat at the Club." + +The doctor accompanied him as far as Terry's old quarters and passed +on to his own house farther down the street. Matak, gloomy and +wordless, relieved the Major of his bag at the door. The house was +silent, and darkened by drawn pearl-shell shutters. The Major stood a +moment at the doorway, half sickened by the unused appearance of the +familiar cane chairs, table, desk, and bookcases, then he followed +Matak into the bedroom he had used before. He cleaned up and changed +to whites, and when he came out Matak had thrown the windows wide to +the afternoon sun. But the house was thick with the uncomfortable +silence that pervades unused, furnished habitations and unable to +endure the room he hurried out and over to the _cuartel_. + +The fiery little Macabebes seemed subdued. Mercado blamed himself for +leaving his officer under the circumstances, was bitterly +self-reproachful for not having sent a soldier with him. He went over +the ground carefully but could add nothing but immaterial detail to +what the Major already knew, but the Major remained in the little +office until dark, listening with grim satisfaction to Mercado's +account of the swift retribution that had followed Malabanan's testing +of Constabulary strength. + +He excused the Sergeant and sifted through the pile of official and +personal mail which lay in the basket marked "unfinished." Sorting it, +he came across a cablegram addressed to Terry and dated the morning +that Terry had left in pursuit of the brigands. + +"From the States, too," he muttered. Moved by an impulse and hardly +conscious of what he did, he folded it twice and placed it in his +purse. + +In half an hour he had finished the few reports that must be executed, +and rose to go. Mercado was waiting for him at the door. + +"Sir," he said, standing stiffly at attention and watched by a score +of Macabebes who knew his intention to draw the Major out, "we +Macabebes are soldiers, sir--we never question. But if the Major comes +to lead troops up--there, sir, to bury our Lieutenant, it is a +Macabebe task! We loved him, sir." + +The big Major looked down at the earnest veteran, touched by the +dramatic simplicity of his appeal. + +"Sergeant," he said, "if I do lead a force up there your Macabebes +will be where they belong--at the front of the column!" + +He took the grateful salute and passing out between two rigid lines of +the stalwart little men he crossed the plaza to the Club. + +Entering, he noted the unusual number of Stetsons that hung on the +hatrack, and passing inside, saw that the steward was guarding a score +of rifles and revolvers. For a moment he stood unnoticed by the groups +of determined men who occupied the round dining tables in parties of +four and five. Selecting the table occupied by Lindsey, he went in. + +He felt the tension of the room increase as he entered. All looked up +with friendly word or nod, but from the manner in which they eyed him +and each other he knew that his coming and his purpose had been the +subject of their conversations. He sat down with Lindsey and his two +companions. One of these, O'Rourke, had been the pioneer hemp planter +and now enjoyed a big income; the other, a nervous, hasty young fellow +named Boynton, had borne a reputation as a squawman that had deprived +him of intimacy with his own kind, but had recently put his house in +order and rehabilitated himself with those who found decency in clean +living. + +In an effort to relieve the atmosphere of constraint the three +planters attempted conversation, but it fell dead, and each applied +himself to his dinner. The Major's eyes roved over the crowded room, +then bored Lindsey's. + +"This is the biggest crowd I ever saw in the Club," he suggested, +tentatively. + +All understood the question in his words, but none answered. Suddenly +Boynton flushed with the hot rush of temper to which he was subject. + +"Yes," he exclaimed defiantly, "and it's a good crowd, too! A crowd +that's got guts! We're going to have a look at those Hills!" + +Lindsey had tried to stop him, but nothing could halt the impetuous +Boynton. O'Rourke snorted disgustedly: "Lave it to Bhoynton to shpill +the banes!" + +With Boynton's outburst the Major tightened. These determined men were +hard to handle. He glanced around the room into the faces turned +toward him: Boynton's tense voice had carried throughout the room and +all of the planters had twisted about in their chairs to face him. +They knew the showdown was at hand, were ready to support Boynton's +declaration of their purpose. + +The Major turned to Boynton: "You aim to leave forty or fifty more +good Americans to rot in the Hills?" + +Boynton fully realizing that the Major was addressing the crowd +through him, and feeling their support, spoke more coolly: "Well, +Major, we're ready to chance that!" + +The Major continued, more slowly: "What could fifty men--even such +good men as this fifty would be--do against the Hill People? And how +would they find their way to them? And how would they overcome enemies +they could not find or see, enemies who blow darts that just prick the +skin but bring almost instant death? And if you did reach them, and +kill a large number of them--what would it avail Terry?" + +Pausing long enough for this to sink into their minds, he continued +more sternly: "And furthermore and more important, how could such a +force, organized out of worthy motives but nevertheless engaged in an +unlawful enterprise, hope to even reach the Hill Country--knowing that +they would have to first fight their way through a hundred of the best +Macabebe riflemen in the Islands ... with me leading the Macabebes." + +No one stirred. They knew the Major. This was no threat, no boast, he +had merely stated a fixed purpose. This was Constabulary business, +would be handled by Constabulary. + +"Snap" Hoffman, a husky, keen-eyed youth who enjoyed the unique +reputation of being the best poker player and the hardest worker in +the Gulf, spoke coldly from an adjoining table. + +"Bronner, maybe your Macabebes wouldn't fight against people going up +to square things for the officer they lost--I guess you don't know +what they thought of him! But forgetting that part of it--what we +want to know is, what are you going to do about reaching out for him, +or for those who 'got' him?" + +The hissing of the acetylene burners sounded loud in the room during +the pause in which the sunburned planters waited the Major's answer. +He spoke to Hoffman, without resentment. + +"'Snap,' I had plenty of time to think it all out, on the way down +here. There is just one way to find out about Terry: I am starting +into the Hills to-morrow at daylight." + +"With the Macabebes?" Hoffman retained the spokesmanship. + +The Major slowly shook his head. The powerful lights glinted upon the +brass buttons of his uniform and etched the deep lines in the heavily +tanned face. + +"No," he said. "The Governor has given me a free hand in this, as it +is a Constabulary job--we look after our own. You all know, as well as +I, what it would mean to force our way in. We would get in eventually, +but in addition to leaving too many good men in the everlasting shade +of the forest, we would defeat our own ends. For if he is still living +they would surely finish him if we undertook a punitive expedition. + +"I have laid my plans on my absolute confidence that he is living. I +know he is, somehow. So I am starting up after him in the morning ... +alone." + +Consternation was written upon every face excepting Lindsey's, who had +understood the Major's purpose from the moment he curbed Boynton. +Amazement altered to admiration, then to uneasy forebodings. The Major +watched them as they whispered to each other and as he read their +acceptance of his plans he turned to his cold dinner. + +The planters found relief in following suit. The stewards returned to +the care of the tables. Cigars, the best from Luzon's northern fields, +followed Benguet coffee and when champagne glasses appeared at each +plate in indication of some diner's birthday or other happy occasion, +the planters searched each others' faces to identify the celebrant. As +the Chino withdrew after filling the glasses Lindsey rose, glass in +hand, speaking with his characteristic sincerity and with an easy +grace that belied his rough planter's garb. + +"Gentlemen, I propose an absent friend ... a friend of all of us. One +who has meant much to all of us, has done much for many of us, has +harmed none by careless deed or word or thought: one who knows the +high places but realizes that life is lived on level planes. +Gentlemen"--he lifted his glass high--"to the--HEALTH--of Lieutenant +Richard Terry, P. C." + +A swift scraping of feet and of chairs pushed back and they all stood +in mute acclaim of Lindsey's sentiments, subscribed with him to the +Major's refusal to believe that ill had befallen him whom they had +assembled to avenge. Seated again they watched Lindsey, who remained +standing while the Chino refilled the glasses. Lindsey spoke again. + +"I ask you now to pledge the only man I know whose bravery, sincerity +and friendship are of a quality to fit him to be the chief of him to +whom it was just now our honor to do honor. + +"Gentlemen ... Major John Bronner, P. C.!" + +The response was a thrilling tribute to the flushed officer who +remained seated until the clamor had subsided, then bowed his +embarrassed gratitude. + +They crowded around him as he rose to go, each offering advice and +warnings, wringing his big hand. Boynton drew him a little aside. + +"Major," he said earnestly, "I hope you find him--all right--not--not +hurt. He was fine to me--I came near making an awful mistake--about a +native woman. But he came to me and talked me out of it--spent the +night with me, talking about his mother ... she died when he was a +little shaver ... and he talked about clean living, and the duty of +carrying on your white blood unpolluted. He didn't preach--just talked +sense, and was awfully--friendly. I quit the dame cold!" + +Gripping Bronner's hand, Boynton left the room. Lindsey accompanied +the Major to the door and into the reading room, pointing to the +placard tacked up under the skin of the python. + +"You remember the wording of the first sign? 'Major Bronner owes his +life to the wonderful pistol marksmanship of his friend, Lieut. +Richard Terry, P. C.' He was here the night that Malabanan broke +loose--you will hear about that night of his in the Club--and the next +day we found that he had changed the placard. Look." + +He pulled the Major over and they read: + + This python, the largest but one measured since American + occupation, was killed on the plantation of Mr. Eric + Lindsey. + + Length...................24 ft., 9 inches + Diameter, thickest..............14 inches + +"We didn't see him do it, but we knew he must have been the one who +changed it. As that's the way he wanted it, we can't change it--now." + +Grief shadowed his earnest countenance again as he faced the Major: +"Don't you think that in view of my friendship for him--and for +you--that I am entitled to go up with you?" + +"No, that's all settled, Lindsey." + +The Major passed out, but pausing on the dark walk in front of the +building to relight his cigar, he heard Lindsey outlining plans for +the campaign the planters would undertake if the Major had not +returned at the end of two weeks. + + * * * * * + +In the early morning he made a light pack of rations and the beads, +matches and red calico he had secured to use as presents in case he +won through to the Hill People. He dressed for the field in khaki, +filled an extra canteen and after breakfast mounted Terry's big gray +pony and rode off with Mercado, whom he took to guide him to the spot +where Terry was last seen. The Macabebe took the lead and pressed by +the urgent white man lathered his pony in the rapid pace he set +through the winding trail. They dismounted at the ford shortly before +sunset. + +While the Major was transferring his pack from saddle to shoulders the +Macabebe explored the pool with distrustful eyes. But Sears had done +his work thoroughly: two cases of dynamite had blown in the banks and +created a new channel through which the water flowed swiftly. The pool +had been narrowed by half and shallowed to a depth of ten feet in the +series of explosions Sears had detonated until the river gave up the +rent carcass of the monstrous reptile. + +The Major adjusted the pack to his liking, waved farewell to the +Macabebe and moved toward the fringe of woods with a swinging stride. +The soldier watched the receding figure with mingled admiration and +awe. The Malay stood irresolute as the white man's head and shoulders +passed from view under the low hanging branches, watched the pendulous +khaki legs swing rhythmically into the shadows of the forest and out +of vision, then cast one long look up over the dense roof of the +forest which swept far up to end at Apo's summit, and atremble with +the appalling memories of the lonely spot he mounted the gray and led +his own exhausted pony along the edge of the pool. Once he glanced +back apprehensively as a small Bogobo agong sounded somewhere to the +north and filled the woods with its deep and mournful tones, then +hurried on homewards. + +The Major had headed due west, straight toward the summit of the +mountain. He walked on through the last hour of the afternoon and as +the woods became denser and darker he used the slope of the forest +floor as his point, always facing in the direction of the rising +ascent. He made good time, as here the going was little obstructed by +creepers or thorned "wait-a-minute." Alert, he studied every sound of +the forest life, for though he had placed his life on the knees of the +gods he valued it too highly to neglect any slightest precaution. +Inside his shirt there bulged a heavy 45 slung from a leather +breast-holster. This lone attempt of the Hills was no sudden +inspiration; he had planned it logically. There was no other way. Up +there, somewhere, lay or lived his friend. Friendship was the call, +friendship and ... The Service. + +The sun, glinting fitfully through openings in the thatching of +sparkling green leaves, dropped lower and sank from sight, and before +the brief twilight faded he selected a spot beneath a great mango tree +as his first camping place. Gathering some dry twigs and dead boughs +he built a fire at the edge of a little stream and ate sparingly of +his store of beans, chocolate and tinned sausages. In his collapsible +pan he heated water and dissolved his coffee crystals, and the coffee +finished, he boiled more water with which he filled his canteens and +hung them on a branch after dipping the woolen jackets into the creek +to secure the coolness of evaporation. + +Night fell black in the forest. He threw more brush on the fire to +enlarge the circle of light, and made himself a comfortable couch by +patiently stripping the small branches of their most leafy twigs, and +wrapped himself in his blanket, vainly hoping that sleep would come. + +From time to time he rose to add fuel to the fire, as he wanted the +light to be visible from the Gulf, where troubled friends would be +searching the night hills with worried eyes. And he wished the flame +to be seen in the Hills by those who lurked in the dark shadows so +that they might know that no element of stealth entered into the +approach of this white man who invaded a territory forbidden to +strangers since the earliest dawn of Philippine history. This +idea--the thorough advertisement of fearless confidence--was the basis +of his plan. He knew wild men. + +Desperately he fought off the forebodings which assailed him in the +deep silence of the forest night, for hours he tossed in the distress +of apprehension over the friend of whom he came in search. Toward dawn +he fell asleep puzzling over the problem of Terry's reason for closing +the door of his bedroom before going to bed and then opening it for +ventilation. He waked from a dream in which he had slyly peered into +the room in time to see Terry withdrawing a hypodermic needle from his +arm, and lay worrying about the vivid nightmare until he noticed that +the fire was dimming before the coming of dawn. + +He breakfasted, drowned the embers of his fire with water from the +stream, then reslung his pack and started up the slope. The way grew +steeper with the hours, the forest thicker. The green roof of foliage +was now so thick that the sun seldom penetrated and where it did +strike through the sunlit spots were dazzling in contrast with the +somber shadow of the forest. The undergrowth grew denser, so that he +climbed with greater toil through the maze of thorned bush and snaky +creepers that twined in enormous lengths across the forest floor. + +The never-ending gloom of the weird twilight grew on his nerves. He +tried to whistle to cheer himself but forebore when the uncanny +echoes rocketed in the dismal cathedral of towering trunks. + +It was rough and cheerless going. There were no trails. Once, toward +noon, while he was munching chocolate to appease his empty stomach, he +suddenly came upon a sort of runway, a beaten trail. He stepped into +this easier path but had taken but a few steps when he was startled by +the vicious rush of a swift object that whizzed up through the air and +tore through a fold of his loose riding breeches, then swung back +before his eyes to vibrate into stillness. It was a bamboo dagger, +sharpened to a keen edge and point, hardened by charring in a slow +fire. Fastened to a young sapling, it had been bent down over the +trail and secured by a trigger his foot had released in passing. Level +with his thigh, it had been designed to pierce the abdomen of the +Hillmen's natural foes. He bent to examine the glutinous material with +which the dagger was poisoned, and paled as he considered his close +escape. Such a death--in such a place.... + +After assuring himself that his skin had not been broken by the +_balatak_, he stepped gingerly off the trail and made his way upward, +carefully avoiding every inch of ground that appeared suspicious. With +each mile of ascent the way grew steeper, the forest deeper and +darker, the green ceiling reared higher on more massive trunks. + +In mid afternoon he noticed that he was passing through a zone of +utter forest silence. There were no relieving sounds of voice or wing +or padded foot. It was appalling. Nothing in his vivid experiences +had approached the menace of these silent trees. + +Pausing to rest in an area where an unusual amount of indirect light +filtered down through the lofty screen of leaves he looked about him, +found no tree he could identify, and felt the hostility that strange +growths radiate. His thoughts flew back to the security and +friendliness of the elms and maples of his boyhood haunts. As he +peered through the endless avenues of trunks that rose from the dark +slope, he learned what fear is. But he went on, faster. + +An hour later, clambering over the trunk of a huge windfall that +blocked his path, he jumped down upon something that half pierced the +heel of his heavy shoe. Leaning back upon the big log he tugged till +the foot was released. He had landed upon a carpet of leaves which +concealed a number of sharpened bamboo stakes bedded deep in the +ground, point upward. Raking out the leaves with a stick, he uncovered +a nest of sixteen spearheads smeared with the brown venom. + +Forced to study his every footfall, he made slower progress. He was +far up the great slope when he noticed that the tangled underbrush had +given way to a smooth carpet of leaves. Night was near, so he halted +when he came to an open spot, a place where volcanic rock precluded +vegetable growth. Water, steaming hot, poured from a fissure. + +It was the first time he had sighted the sky since morning, and here +he saw the only sign of life the day had afforded. Two gray pigeons +flew side by side across the opening in the trees, winging toward the +crest of the mountain. + +Sleep did not come to him. All through the night he sat by the fire, +staring out into the ruddy circle of vision illumined by the blaze, +peering into the shadows cast by the great trunks. Once a dead limb +fell from a towering tree that stood just at the edge of the circle of +light: he started violently, his hand darting into his shirt front to +his gun. He relaxed, slowly. Big drops of moisture dripped from the +invisible treetops. Thinking it nearly dawn he consulted his watch. It +was eleven o'clock. + +Suddenly he sensed that he was no longer alone, felt the presence of +stealthy forms in the surrounding darkness, heard a twig snap in the +still forest behind him. He waited, tense, the hair at the back of his +neck stiffening as he thought of blowpipes and of darts poisoned by +steeping in the putrid entrails of wild hogs. + +He felt the scrutiny of hostile eyes. Certain that he detected the +movement of an indistinct figure on the rim of the firelight, he threw +on a handful of dry twigs hoping to uncover the prowlers, but the +flareup revealed only an enlarged circle of great trees and emphasized +their shadows. He sat motionless, his eyes focussed sharply upon the +spot, and as the fire died down he saw the flicker of a dark form as +it darted from the shadow of the tree and dissolved into the bordering +gloom. + +He gritted his teeth in an agony of suspense and enforced inaction. As +the long minutes crawled by he writhed inwardly in the horror of +waiting for the stinging impact of the feathered messengers of death, +marshalled every resource of his will in his effort to appear casual, +unafraid, confident of friendly reception. + +Suddenly the silence of the night hills was broken by a weird sound +that rolled down from the heights. He listened, rigid, and realized +that some one was striking a small agong. It came from the crest. +Three times the faint resonance was carried down, the last note +humming long in the tunnel of forest and fading out in slow-dying +vibrations. + +Listening, he noted a change in the forest about him. Minutes passed, +and at last he realized that he was alone, the lurking figures had +been recalled. In the reaction fatigue came, and he wrapped himself in +the blanket and fell asleep. + +At sunrise he was off again, climbing the mountain side, confident +that the recall of his midnight visitors had ended all dangers. The +night would see him at the summit.... APO! + +But with the sense of personal security there came a deep apprehension +of what he would find at the end of his strange quest. His worry over +the fate of the friend for whom he had made this venture increased +with every hour. As the day wore on he fell into a panic of +foreboding, scarce noting that the forest had lost its sinister +aspects, had opened into a lovely wood of sun-splashed vistas broken +here and there by great rugs of thick grass which tempered the beat of +the afternoon sun striking through the openings above the frequent +clearings. + +Suddenly he stopped, sniffing to identify the odor that had rapped at +his heedless nostrils for an hour. Disbelieving the testimony of his +sense of smell he scanned the woods for visual evidence, for the first +time taking in the quiet beauty of the scene. Finding the objects for +which he searched he exclaimed aloud in his wonder. + +"Pines! Pines! Sus-marie-hosep!" + +He drank in the bracing spice of the rare atmosphere, glorying in the +clear coolness of the altitude after the months of oppressive heat in +the lowlands. + +"Real, honest-to-heaven pines--that puts me a clean mile above sea +level!" + +Worry came again, and he turned to continue his ascent, but halted in +midstride as he discovered a form that stood, motionless, upon a +grassy plot a few rods above him. A Hillman confronted him! + +Evidently a young fighting man, of small stature but wonderfully +developed of shoulder and limb, full chested and round of barrel, his +brown skin covered only with a red G-string, spear in hand, he +returned the Major's stare with a steady gaze of appraisal. For a long +minute he remained poised, then beckoned to the Major to follow him +and whirling with a flirt of his long black hair he led the way up the +acclivity, bearing to the right of the course the Major had taken. + +The Major turned his back to the savage while he reached into his +shirt to put his pistol at full cock and safe, then followed him. The +ascent stiffened abruptly, then ended, so that they came out on a +wooded plateau a half-mile square in the center of which the crest of +the mountain reared in a last upheave of perfect cone several hundred +feet high. Skirting the edge of the cone they emerged from the woods +and came to the border of a village. + +The Major paused at the edge of the clearing, congratulating himself +upon the wonderful good fortune that had brought him safely among the +Hill People, and studying the village. A large number of crude +thatched huts had been erected scatteringly at the bases of the trees +surrounding the level clearing. Not a soul was in sight except the +young warrior who had acted as his guide, who stood in front of a +shack somewhat larger and better built than its neighbors. + +As the Major stepped into the clearing he saw a figure appear at the +door, and his sturdy heart lodged in his throat as he leaped forward. + +It was Terry. + +They met in the center of the clearing near the smoldering cooking +fire, their hands gripping hard. Their eyes were moist with the relief +each found in the other's safety. Both struggled for apt expression of +their pentup emotions. + +The Major found his tongue first. + +"Well, it's fine air up here," he offered. + +"Ayeh." Terry's grin was uncertain. "And there's so much of it!" + +And they shook hands on it, complacently. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE HILL PEOPLE + + +Occasionally one passes a stranger on the street whose face bears the +unmistakable imprint of recent pain, a patient line of mouth and +haunting glow of eyes that have looked close into the eternal shadows. +Terry bore this look. + +He unbuckled the Major's pack straps and relieving him of the load led +him into the shack he occupied. It was a small hut, roofed and sided +with grass woven into a bamboo lattice work; stilted six feet above +the ground it trembled under the Major's heavy tread. A woven bamboo +partition divided it into two small halves, and each room was bare +save for a slatted cot that served as chair by day and couch by night. +The breeze blew up through the strips of bamboo flooring. + +Exhausted the Major sank down upon the hard cot but rose to sitting +posture to study Terry with bloodshot eyes. + +"Terry," he said, "you're looking a little--what the folks back home +call 'peaked'." + +Terry's face was a little haggard, his body a little slimmer, the +steady gray eyes were deeper set. + +"Oh, I'm all right." He seated himself on the ledge of the window near +the Major. "You had a tight go of it last night. Did you hear the +little agong ring?" + +"Yes." + +"The young Hillmen wanted to wipe you out. I had to work pretty hard +with Ohto--the old chief--to persuade him to let you come in +unharmed." His face clouded. "I have been worried ever since you +started into the Hills." + +"How did you know that I was coming?" + +"Major, that's why I have been so worried about not being able to +start back--I knew that you would come as soon as you heard." + +The Major flushed in quick pleasure at the unconscious tribute to his +friendship and his courage. He filled his pipe and smoked contentedly. +It was the biggest hour that he had ever known. Terry unharmed, well; +his own hazards surmounted; and the Hill Country penetrated at +last--the impossible again achieved by the Constabulary. He settled +back comfortably, using his pack as a pillow. + +"Tell me all about it," he said. + +"There is not much to tell, Major. You must already know all about the +way in which the Macabebes finished what Malabanan started, and of +Sakay's leap into the pool--did Sears dynamite that pool?" + +Horror shadowed the steady eyes till the Major assured him that the +pool and its dweller were of the past. + +"Major, that Sakay affair was pretty--bad: I keep wondering if I +missed him--I would hate to think that.... Well, I had not felt well +all day. I must have been exposed to that fever at Dalag and--" + +"Yes, I guess you had! Merchant told me about that!" + +Terry flushed and went on. "I started through the brush to get to the +doctor, but I must have been sicker than I thought, for I don't +remember anything after entering the woods. It's all a dream to me. +Something pulled me up this way--I've always hoped to be the one to +open up the Hills--and I kept coming. I remember lying down at dusk +and being picked up and carried through the night. I must have been +delirious for about ten days, but had conscious periods every day. +Every time I had a clear spell I swallowed several tablets of the +quinine Sears gave me. I guess that quinine saved me--I would like to +have Sears know about it. + +"Those ten days are rather confused, of course, but I remember the +care the women gave me and some of their rough remedies. I came out of +the delirium two weeks ago but was pretty weak, so did not try to get +up, but lay there listening to their talk. Their dialect is quite like +the Bogobo--I think they're just a tribe of Bogobos separated from the +others by those infernal woods. I soon learned that they had spared me +and cared for me because they thought that I was daft. You know that +these primitive tribes never molest lunatics--they think that they are +possessed of devils which, if disturbed, will enter the heads of +whoever harms their present host. Probably I raved a good bit on the +way up, when they were following me. + +"When they realized that I was sane the tribe split into two +factions--one wanted to finish me but the other insisted that my +coming was a good augury. It was rather queer to lie here and listen +to the arguments pro and con--I pulled pretty hard for the negative +contenders! The question was finally decided by the old chief, Ohto, +who announced that my fate would be determined when next the limoçons +sang. That settled the immediate question. + +"The limoçon is a big species of pigeon that nests in the Hills. It +seldom sings, and then only at nightfall. It is reverenced by these +people, who believe that it sings prophecies of good or evil, the +character of the omen being determined by the point of the compass in +which it lights to offer its rare evening song. Direction is gauged +from where the Tribal Agong hangs--I will show you that after supper. +It is a queer superstition, Major: they think that a song in the west +means greatest harm--death by famine or disease or intra-tribal wars, +from the north the omen is ill but to a lesser degree, south is good, +but a song from the east augurs greatest happiness to their people." + +The Major was pulling on a dead pipe, absorbed in Terry's story but +building into it all of the suffering and loneliness and suspense +which the lad ignored in the telling. + +"They say that the limoçon has sung in the east but once since it +heralded the birth of Ohto, who is the greatest chief they ever had. +But it has sung in the west eight times--and each time it was followed +by the death of one of Ohto's family. Now the old man is the last of +his line. These things may have been mere coincidences but you can see +why they believe implicitly in their feathered oracles. + +"A week ago, while I was still kept prisoned in this hut, the bird +sang in the south, an omen of sufficient favor to cause my release. +Since then I have been free to wander about--and if it had not sung, +my influence would have amounted to nothing when I pled for you. And I +might not have been here to plead. + +"That's about all, Major, except as to what manner of folk these +Hillmen are, and that you will learn better for yourself." + +The Major rose and stepped to the door where they could survey the +village, unseen by the brown people who now swarmed the hard-packed +clearing. They were a squat race. The men, G-stringed, displayed the +same powerful physique that had marked the warrior who had conducted +the Major, the women were clad in a single width of homespun cotton +which draped from waist to knee and passed up over breast and back to +knot at the right shoulder. Men, women and children were all long +haired, and marked alike with broad, high cheek-boned faces flattened +across the bridge of the nose. Their slightly thickened lips and +widened nostrils were offset by large, intelligent eyes. They were +grouped about the fires which burned in the center of the village, the +women tending the pots which steamed over the coals. The fresh hide of +a buck lay in the center of the ring of fires amid heaps of yams and +unthreshed rice. + +"Community cooking," explained Terry. "The young men hunt, the older +ones farm, the girls weave and the old women cook. The scheme works +out well in such a simple manner of living. Such government as they +have is a blending of a little democracy with strong patriarchism. The +old chief, Ohto, lets them have their own way about the little +things, but when he speaks it is the law." + +"How numerous are they?" + +"Six or eight thousand. This is the largest of nine villages scattered +around the crown of the mountain. Ohto rules them all." + +He pointed to a wide lane leading through the fringe of woods into +another and smaller clearing a few hundred feet south. + +"That is where Ohto lives. No one approaches his house unless sent +for. You--we--are to have an audience with him to-night. He set the +time at moonrise." + +"A husky lot," commented the Major. "They're bigger than the Bogobos, +and lighter skinned--but they sure don't get much chance to tan in +these woods!" + +"They're a wild lot, Major, but you'll like them." + +They saw a woman leave the circle of fires and approach their hut +bearing two crude dishes. She hesitated near the door, nervously +searching the newcomer with timid black eyes, but reassured by Terry's +low word she climbed the bamboo steps and laid before them a supper of +venison, yams and boiled rice, then scampered out with a twinkle of +brown legs. + +While they ate the Major outlined the news of Davao. Terry, tired of +the monotonous fare, finished quickly and sat on the threshold, +looking out upon the savages who squatted at supper about the fires. + +"Major," he said, "we arrived here at a strange time. These people are +all worked up over the question as to who shall succeed Ohto as chief +of the tribe. You remember I told you that he has no relatives, that +they have all died off. His last grandson died three years ago. He was +to have married--" + +He broke off and turned to face the Major. "You may remember my +reporting a Bogobo tale to the effect that a Spanish baby had been +abducted?" + +"Yes, we looked it up, Terry. It was true." + +"It's true all right. She is here! A wonderful girl, Major, beautiful, +wildly reared but--well, you may see her to-night for yourself. She +was stolen by these people when she was an infant and Ohto's grandson +was three years old, stolen to become his bride when both came of age. +That is the way they keep their chieftain strain fresh--by stealing +children from outside tribes and mating them when they grow up. +Ahma--that is her name--is the only white child they ever abducted. + +"But Ohto's grandson died a year before the marrying age. She has +grown up in Ohto's household, has been taught their beliefs, dresses +like them except that as his adopted daughter she is entitled to finer +things. She is one of them except for the whiteness of her skin. One +of them, yet ... different." + +His voice trailed off into a silence in which the subdued murmurings +of the Hill People sounded loud. + +The Major stirred where he lay stretched on the hard couch: "Who will +succeed this Ohto, then?" + +Terry roused himself. "The tribe is wrought up over this problem, as +well as the problem of our presence here. They gather every night and +discuss the matter. Some want to select a new chief among the young +men and train him so that he will be ready when Ohto dies, others +insist that Ahma--this girl--shall select a husband from among them +and thus raise him automatically to chieftainship. But she laughs at +them all, though there are plenty of aspirants for the honor. The old +chief has said nothing--he just sits and thinks. + +"He loves Ahma with all of the wild love of a savage for the young he +has cared for since infancy. He seems to consider her happiness even +above the wishes and welfare of the tribe." + +"Terry, you said this girl is 'different.' How different?" + +Terry shrugged his shoulders, rose and secured their hats before +answering. + +"You will probably see her to-night, Major. Come, I want to show you +the Tribal Agong." + +Leaving the shack they threaded through the tiers of huts and crossed +through the fringe of trees that surrounded the village, coming out at +the foot of the cone. The huge monolith rose some eight hundred feet +above the tableland on which the village was built. Its symmetrical +slopes were smooth and steep. A goat could not have found footing +anywhere upon its precipitous sides. + +A winding shelf had been cut out of the rock to serve as a trail. It +wound round the cone a dozen times in an ascent of several hundred +feet where it terminated, high above where they stood, in a niche +twenty feet square. Niche and trail had been chipped out of solid rock +and were worn smooth by the rains of many years. Here and there the +smooth surface was checkered with fissures, marks of erosion and +earthquake. + +The Major, head bent far back, breathed deeply: + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" he exclaimed. + +High above the spot where they stood a granite arm had been carved +over the rock platform in which the winding trail ended, and from this +arm a mammoth bronze agong hung suspended over them. + +"Why, I always thought those stories of the Giant Agong were +just--why, how in thunder did they get it up there? And how did they +cast it? Why--Sus-marie-hosep!" + +The Major gazed up till the muscles at the back of his neck ached: +"Why, it must be fifteen feet in diameter--that striking knob is--why, +the thing must weigh six or seven tons!" + +With this last thought the Major moved uneasily to one side. Terry +grinned at him. + +"I felt that same way when I first stood under it, but I've been up +there. That flimsy-looking arm on which it hangs is two feet thick and +chiseled out of solid granite to form a bracket. I think you are right +about its size--the striking knob in the center is about six inches +wide." + +The Major shook his head, still bewildered: "Terry, I feel as if this +is all a dream--being up here on Apo, this cold air, the smell of the +pines, and now this thing here--Sus-marie-hosep!" + +"The old Bogobo woman who told me of hearing the Agong insisted that +she would live to hear it rung again. It is never rung except at the +marriage of a chieftain or the birth of his heir. These Hillmen +fairly worship it. They have the most absurd legends as to how it was +cast and hung up there, and of the reasons for the wonderful tone they +say it sounds. They believe that the souls of all the dead limoçons +live on in it forever and that when it is sounded they all burst forth +in song." + +The sun exhausted its last white rays and sank below the low hills +beneath them. Terry moved forward into the narrow trail and indicated +to the Major that he should follow. They ascended slowly, the shelf +narrowing so that by the time they had mounted twice about the base of +the crag they were forced to advance by careful side steps, their +backs against the cliff. Terry stopped at the fourth spiral, his hands +gripping the jagged projections, his back tight against the cliff, and +when the Major reached his side he nodded significantly toward the +horizon. + +The Major slowly withdrew his eyes from the dizzying abruptness of the +fall beneath them, and followed Terry's rapt gaze. The great panorama +of the Gulf lay unfolded beneath their aerie. + +The sun, glowing pink against the crag, cast its huge shadow over the +now tiny huts beneath them. Dusk was already falling over the great +sloping forest that stretched from beneath their feet far into the +Mindanao fastnesses and ended in a dim horizon where pink-blue of sky +melted into the misted billows of distant hills. Far southward the +Celebes was faintly outlined, a frosted mirror framed by primeval +verdure, and to the east the slopes extended down mile upon mile, +flattened, then leveled to edge the great sweep of the gulf. + +They stood tight against the clear crest while the swift shadows +gathered the Gulf into its fold. The little valleys faded, and +blackened, and the lower hills disappeared. The gulf narrowed, +shortened, and dissolved into the night. The dark crept swiftly up the +slopes as if envious of the ruby crown set on Apo's forehead by the +abdicating sun. + +A steady wind, cool and fragrant with the odorous pines, streamed +against them, forced their bodies hard against the crag. The Major, +enraptured of the vast grandeur, voiced his exaltation. + +"Jiminy!" he said. "The top of the world! An empire!--an empire of +hemp! And our flag covers it all!" + +Receiving no answer, he carefully pivoted his head so as to face +Terry, and was humbled by what he saw. Terry's face, white in the fast +fading light, was exalted, glowed like that of an esthetic of the +Middle Ages, his eyes shone with a vision wider than that disclosed +from the mountain top. + +"Terry, what do you see--in all this?" the Major asked. + +The wind whipped his words into space. He repeated, louder. + +Terry stirred slightly, answered vaguely, his gaze still fixed upon +the tremendous shadowed expanse below them: "I was thinking of a ... +dozen words ... spoken upon another mountain, words that seem very +real ... and make one feel very small ... in such a place as this." + +The Major puzzled, gave it up. He was on the point of asking +explanation when Terry spoke. + +"We had best get down from here, Major. It is getting darker." + +It took them but a few minutes to work their way down, but the crag +reared black against ten thousand stars when they reached the base. In +the regions near the equator the sun courses in hot hurry. + +Returned to the hut, the Major sat on the window ledge and Terry at +the threshold. The night was chill with the clear crispness of +altitude. The Major sniffed the pine-laden breeze gratefully. + +"We have found a new Baguio," he said. + +Terry assented, absentmindedly. + +The Major nursed his empty pipe, studying the savages who grouped +around the fires to warm their almost naked bodies. Occasionally one +or two would detach themselves from the groups and approach near where +the two white men sat illumined by the flames, staring at these +strangers in frank curiosity, silent, inscrutable, unafraid. Noticing +the glint of fire upon a nearby row of long-shafted spears which +reared their vicious barbs eight feet above the ground into which they +had been thrust, the Major spoke to Terry. + +"Your pistol?" + +Terry motioned toward his room; "In there. They never bothered me +about it--probably don't know what a pistol is." + +The Major, thinking of the sensation the opening of the Hill Country +would create, of the Governor's joy when he should hear the news, of +the added prestige for his Service, turned to Terry to express +something of his thoughts. But he desisted when he saw by Terry's +flame-illumined countenance that he had forgotten his presence, for +there was something about the lean wistful face that made his +detachment inviolable. + +Soon the moon rose above the level of the plateau and flooded the +village with a filtered glow. Terry rose. + +"Ohto ordered me to bring you at moonrise." He waited until the Major +had secured the gifts he had packed up, then led the way through the +lane into the smaller clearing. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AHMA + + +In the center of the moonlit clearing there stood a larger house than +any in the village. The soft beams of light reflected from the bamboo +sides of the structure and the heavy dew on the thatched roof +glistened like a myriad of fireflies. A wide path led to the porch, +and near this there was set a tripod, fashioned of saplings, from +which was suspended the little agong the Major had heard during the +night. + +As they neared the foot of the ladder that served as stairway the +Major started violently as two brown forms appeared at their elbows; +at a word from Terry they stepped aside to let the two white men pass, +one calling softly to a guard stationed at the top of the ladder. The +door was thrown open and they mounted the bamboo rungs and entered the +house of Ohto. + +Pine torches illuminated the room, which was some twenty feet square, +roughly sided and floored with bamboo slats; there was no ceiling, so +that a quarter of the high-pitched thatching of the house showed +overhead. A dozen middle-aged Hillmen stood along the wall, evidently +the influential men of the village. Across from them an aged Hillman +sat in a rough-hewed, high-backed chair. + +Terry advanced and addressed the old man, his whole manner bespeaking +a sincere regard and respect; then he beckoned to the Major. + +"This is Ohto," he said. "I will interpret for you if he does not +understand your dialect." + +The Major faced the fine, austere old patriarch. The brown face had +been wrinkled bewilderingly by the heavy-handed years, but his eyes +still glowed with something of the pride and spirit of his youth. +Wrapped in a thick blanket of hand woven _kapok_, he confronted them +with that air of dignity and distinction common to those who from +early life have dominated the councils of a community. + +The Major silently tendered his gifts. Ohto motioned to one of his +retainers and in a few monosyllables ordered their distribution among +the people, the red cloth to the women, the beads to the children and +the matches to be divided among the young men. As he retained nothing +for himself the Major produced a new pocket knife he carried, and bade +Terry make Ohto understand that it was for himself. The savage bent +his hoary locks over the treasure, examining the mysterious blades +that opened and closed at his will, and accepted it as his own. + +The Major attempted to address the chief in his scanty Bogobo, +stumbled, and turned to Terry beseechingly. + +"You tell him, Terry. You know what we've got to say better than I +do!" + +So Terry spoke, and though the Major did not know it, he continually +referred to him as his chief, put all of the fine phrases in his name. +The warriors along the wall weighed every word. + +Terry told Ohto of their great pleasure in having entered the Hills, +and of their appreciation of their reception. He extended the +greetings of the White Chief across the waters at Zamboanga, tried to +impress him with the interest the White Chief took in the Hill People +and of his good will toward them: told of the advantages that would +follow intercourse with the lowlands, of the good that would come to +his people from contact with others. Finally he dwelt upon the folly +of isolation, of the benefits of commerce and schools and other +elements of civilization. + +The flare of the pitch torches brought out the sincerity of his face. +The old chief listened, inscrutably, his unwavering gaze fixed upon +the earnest speaker. Before the aged infirmity of Ohto Terry stood in +apt symbol of lithe youth. + +It was apparent that Ohto did not grasp much of what Terry strove to +impart, for the primitive imagination was powerless to understand +institutions he could not conceive. He listened gravely but gave no +inkling of what went on behind the mask of his wise old eyes. + +Terry finished, awaited expression of his decision. For a long time +the patriarch remained silent, idly opening and closing the blades of +his knife. The Hillmen ranged along the wall, who had listened +attentively to Terry's arguments for opening up their country to the +outlanders, waited their chief's pronouncement with set faces and +gleaming eyes, their brown bodies still as bronze figures. + +At last the patriarch raised his head high, so that the snow white +hair fell back across his blanketed shoulders. He spoke so slowly +that Terry was able to follow him with whispered interpretations into +the anxious Major's ear. + +"Many rainy seasons have washed my hair white. I live to see strange +things--I never thought to see a white man's face within my +walls--except, perhaps, upon a spear, grinning. + +"When I was born--and no other man or woman of my tribe lives who saw +the sun of that far day--they said, the wise men, that much good would +come to my people before I died. + +"They read it in the stars, they said. No great ill has come, except +to my own blood. All gone--wife, sons, grandsons. Never again will the +Agong ring for one of Ohto's blood!" + +They felt the greater pity because the proud old chieftain demanded no +sympathy, but merely stated the pathetic fact with a simple dignity. + +He was silent for a time, lost in an old man's memories. Then he +turned to one of the four retainers who flanked his chair. + +"I am lonely," he said. "I would that Ahma would sit by me." + +As the swart Hillman crossed the springy floor and rapped gently upon +a closed door, the Major saw that every black eye focussed upon it +with eager expectancy. For a moment the room was palpitant with +suspense. He looked to Terry for explanation, but turned back at the +grinding crunch of the hingeless door which opened to frame a fairer +vision than the Major had ever dreamed, asleep or awake. + +A white girl had stepped out of the other room and paused a moment +against the dark background of the door to sweep the room with big +black eyes. + +A single piece of white cloth, fringed with bat fur, was draped about +her waist and fell below her knee, the ends passing up in front and +back of her round body to fasten loosely at the right shoulder. This, +with a little sleeveless garment fashioned, bolero-like, out of the +delicate bat skins, and a pair of sandals contrived in such a way as +to bring the hair of the deer skin against the little feet, was all +she wore. + +Bronner scarcely realized the symmetry of the slender form, so lost +was he in the spell of the dark eyes that plumbed his for one long +second, leaving him tingling with a curious conviction that his soul +had been bared. Vivid of white skin, of jet eyes, of a mass of +midnight hair that hung loose to her waist, she radiated the fire and +spirit of vibrant youth. + +"God! Such a girl--up here--all these years!" he breathed. + +She left the doorway and crossing the room with the light grace of +slender, untrammeled limbs, sank down on a bench drawn up at Ohto's +side. He set his withered hand contentedly upon the mass of her hair, +and in a moment he spoke again. + +"If the prophecies of the wise men are to be fulfilled, it must be +soon. The good fortune of which they spoke has not come to my +people--and Ohto cannot tarry long in wait.... Death calls an old man. + +"It may be that the prophecy had to do with the coming of these white +men. It may be that it would be better to no longer guard the Hills +with balatak and stake and spear and poisoned dart. It may be that our +people would be stronger--happier." + +Again he halted his slow monosyllables, searching the faces of the +Hillmen who waited upon his words: utter devotion and loyalty were +apparent in every brown face. Proudly conscious of their fidelity, he +regarded them kindly, then his thoughts reverted to the girl at his +side, and he gently stroked the lustrous black hair. She sat quiet +under the caress, her head bent down in an attitude that revealed the +white line from shoulder to throat, her eyes sheltered behind long +lashes. At last Ohto raised his head again and when he spoke he gazed +straight at Terry. + +"Ever since we ... found ... her, this lovely flower has flourished. +She now blooms in full blossom in my house--a white orchid on a +gnarled old root. + +"Before Ohto leaves the Hills he would like to see Ahma safe,--guarded +and cherished by one who loves ... and knows. Though not of Ohto's +blood, she is of Ohto's heart. I will that when she finds a stronger +tree upon which to fasten--the Tribal Agong shall be rung for her." + +Astonished out of their racial imperturbability, the Hillmen eyed each +other at this departure from the ancient custom of ringing the Giant +Agong only for those of chieftain blood. The girl's wide eyes raised +to Terry, shifted momentarily to the Major, and lowered. + +The old man concluded: "You both speak fair, but I do not know what +is best for my people. I do not know. + +"We must await a sign to guide us. The Spirit will speak to us through +limoçon or nature, will solve the problem that you have brought to us +... and will decide your fate. + +"Until the Spirit speaks, you are safe with us, white men. + +"I am weary now." + + * * * * * + +The venerable savage gathered the blanket more closely about his thin +shoulders and closed his eyes as if exhausted. One of the four who +stood behind him pointed to the door to indicate that their audience +was at an end. As they passed out, the Major turned for a last look at +Ahma, who was leading the old man into his room. + +In the middle of the clearing he stopped short. + +"Say, you forgot to translate what Ohto said after she came into the +room!" + +Terry smiled whimsically up into the chagrined face: "That's right, I +did! But you seemed to lose interest in his words!" + +As they made their way through the village Terry explained Ohto's +decision, concluding with: "And so he awaits one of their 'signs,' the +appearance of the limoçons, or some freak of weather or natural +phenomenon like an earthquake--they read prophecies in everything." + +The Major sat down heavily upon the bench. He was genuinely disturbed +at this new phase, as he had thought their hazards passed. + +"Why," he exclaimed, "that puts us square in the Lap o' Luck! Think of +just waiting around for an earthquake or something--or for some darned +bird to sing! With the opening up of this country as the stake--yes +and our own hides. Sus-marie-hosep!" + +Terry had taken his usual seat on the threshold, chin in hand, his +face bathed in the light of the moon that now hung high overhead and +flooded the mountain top with a friendly glow. The cool night breezes +came in strong gusts which rustled the foliage about them. + +Calmed by Terry's attitude of quiet confidence and strength, the Major +faced their problem coolly, sought a way out. For a while his mind +raced with plans, but each died in the minute of inception. He could +not influence winds, or induce wild birds to sing in given quarters of +the compass, or devise earthquakes. He fell to thinking of Ahma. + +Later, observing Terry closely, he asked: "And what are you dreaming +about now?" + +Terry stirred as though awakened: "Oh, home--mostly." + +The Major wanted to talk, but the patient distress in the voice +deterred him from what seemed intrusion. + +Later he suggested sleep. Terry lighted a torch and stuck it into the +doorway, so that while lighting both rooms its fumes carried into the +open. The Major discarded shoes and leggings, and wrapping himself in +his blanket lay down with his pack as pillow. Terry waited till the +Major had disposed himself as comfortably as possible, then +extinguished the torch and went into his own room, closing the door +behind him. + +The Major stared through the dark at the closed door, wondering, as +usual, what was going on behind it. Then as a gust of cold wind blew +in through the window he snugged down into his blanket. + +Another and stronger gust, and he heard the door into Terry's room +creak as it swung to the breeze. Looking up, he learned at last. + +In the rectangular patch of moonlight which entered Terry's room +through a raised window he saw him by the side of the rough slatted +cot, kneeling in that most ancient of attitudes, in which the children +of all the ages have bowed to supplicate and render homage to the +Keeper of the Great Secret. + +The Major's eyes moistened. As the last clear phrase reached him he +again stood flattened against the wind swept crag--"on the top of the +world," and he now understood the "dozen words spoken on another +mountain." They came from Terry's lips low, simple, majestic: + +"--is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory.... Forever...." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE SIGN + + +The sun striking on his face through the open window waked the Major +to the cool clear morning. Sitting up, he saw Terry sunning himself on +the threshold, wrapped in a scant blanket such as Ohto had worn, his +hair wet from his bath in the creek which emptied the big spring at +the foot of the crag. Even in the stupor in which he woke from his +heavy sleep the Major noted the ruddy glow of the skin which covered +Terry's bare arm and leg, was surprised at the development of the +muscles which played into being at each slight movement. His face was +as evenly pallid as ever. + +The Major stopped yawning. "Terry, I always thought of you as +being--sort of skinny, but you're as hard as nails." + +He wrapped closer in the cotton cloth. "I've always taken good care of +myself, Major. From the time when I was a boy I have thought a good +deal about--all sorts of things--and I realized early that one thing +was certain--that this is the only body I'm ever going to have." + +Learning from Terry where he could wash up, the Major made his way to +the creek and after disrobing waded into the deepest spot and soaped +himself liberally. For a moment he enjoyed the bath, but as the +spring was the source of water supply for the village and as the young +women were allotted the task of carrying it, his exhilaration was +short lived. The water came but to his knees, so most of the half hour +he spent in the pool he lay submerged to his chin, his agonized +bachelor face exposed to the maidens who observed him from the spring +three rods away. He would have taken no comfort from the thought--if +it had come to him--that to them comparative nakedness was the normal +state. + +Mountain springs are usually clear and chill, and this was no +exception. He was numb with cold when, hearing a snort of +irrepressible joy behind him, he twisted his head about to discover +Terry enjoying his discomfiture. After Terry drove the girls away the +Major jumped out of the creek and hurried into his clothes, blue +lipped, shivering. + +"T-Terry, you'd better q-q-quit laughing! M-Millions have been +m-m-murdered on less p-p-provocation!" + +After breakfast Terry, intent upon discovery of some way out of their +predicament, left for a long walk. Alone in the little house, the +Major brooded half the morning over the plight in which the old +chief's dictum had placed them, then dismissed the profitless +forebodings and went out to the village to study the natives. + +The clearing was empty of men. A score of the older women were +fetching wood to the fires, another group were washing camotes and +threshing rice with hand flails. Upward of a hundred naked children, +pot-bellied, straightbacked, stared at the big white stranger as he +passed, then ceased their pathetically futile efforts at play and +trooped along behind him, their eyes as old as Ohto's. He looked in at +the young women weaving kapok thread into cloth for blankets and the +garments the women wore, but recognizing in the third house he entered +three of the girls who had watched him in the creek, he fled in +confusion. + +He ate dinner alone, as Terry had not returned. In the afternoon he +continued his study of tribal customs. He had known the Luzon head +hunters intimately, so had a basis of comparison. He went among the +older women freely and sat with them about the fires, practicing his +Bogobo, questioning, enlarging his vocabulary, winning their +friendliness. + +As the afternoon waned he left the clearing, feeling in need of +exercise. He strode rapidly about the circumference of the plateau and +as he threaded the fringe of woods that separated the main clearing +from Ohto's reservation, he halted suddenly as he saw Ahma tripping +toward him on her way to Ohto's house. + +His first wild impulse was to dodge among the trees and avoid her, but +as she had seen him he stood still until she should pass. But she +swerved toward him and approaching with light, swift tread of free +limbs she stopped a few feet before him, smiling. + +Embarrassed by the creamy curves of shoulder and limbs, he sought +diversion in the treetops. She spoke, and at the sound of the clear +little voice he looked at her, and in looking forgot the eccentricity +of her frank costume. Her dark eyes held him: he knew that he was +gazing at the only wholly ingenuous being he had ever seen. He +swallowed convulsively. + +"Hello," he said. + +Bronner was subtle to a fault! + +Puzzled at the word, she wrinkled her nose in delicious groping for +understanding, then laughed up at him. And with the laugh something +popped within his sturdy chest. + +He hastily substituted the Hillmen's word of greeting, which he had +learned during the morning, and joined loudly in her merriment. Elated +with this success, he marshalled his resources of dialect to further +impress her but with a last bewildering glance from her dark eyes she +flitted homeward. + +He watched the white figure out of sight in the woods, vaguely aware +that some new emotion had come to him. He stood among the trees some +minutes after she had disappeared, then turned toward the village. + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" he exploded. + + * * * * * + +At supper time the clearing was again crowded with the entire +population of the village, the men having returned from their pursuits +of hunting, gardening and patrolling the great slope. Terry and +Bronner talked little, each taking his usual seat at window and door +to idly watch the crowd outside. + +Most of the Hillmen ignored their presence, but one, a squat, powerful +fellow, swaggered by the door where Terry sat. Twice he passed, and +each time he leered derisively at the white man. + +"Who's your friend, Terry?" queried the Major. + +"Oh, that's Pud-Pud. He's the town bully--and never has liked me. He +led the crowd that opposed my--staying. He has bothered Ahma a good +deal, too: wants to marry her. She laughs at him, of course. What have +you been doing all day, Major?" + +The Major told him of everything but the meeting with Ahma, spoke +enthusiastically of the tribe. + +"They're straight Malay, Terry," he wound up. "A pure strain, +something you seldom see in the lowlands where the Spanish and Chinese +have addled the blood. They ought to develop rapidly under proper +guidance--they are a single-minded, sincere, fearless people." + +Terry nodded agreement: "Nor are they the terrible people that the +Bogobos think them. Their fear of them must have been based on dread +of that sinister belt of forest. A good road will end all that." + +They waited till Pud-Pud made a third mocking trip past their hut, gay +in a G-string contrived of a length of the cloth the Major had brought +up: it flamed against the naked brownness of back and legs. + +"He's a lady-killer all right!" Terry said. "Ahma told me that he had +coaxed the calico away from one of the girls." + +The Major stirred. "You saw Ahma to-day?" + +But he had hesitated so long over the question that Terry, sunk in +deep thought, did not hear him, and somehow he did not feel like +repeating. He turned in on the hard bed with new things on his mind. +Measles is not the only affection that "takes harder" near maturity. + +Several days passed without incident. Each morning the clearing +emptied after breakfast as all but the cooks left for the day's work. +Usually Terry wandered out alone, returning at evening to sit in the +doorway, lost in study. + +Daily the Major loitered about the village till late afternoon, then +took up his stand in the woods near Ohto's domicile, waiting: and Ahma +never failed him. Bashfully distressed at first in the close proximity +to the wealth of charm revealed by her scant costume, he soon became +unconscious of it, her garb was so entirely congruous to her free, +unschooled nature. He practiced his sketchy dialect upon her, +delighted in each successful transmission of thought, more delighted +in the naďve bewilderment that many of his linguistic efforts wrought +in her frank features. + +The fifth day she failed to appear. He waited long, restless, till +certain that she would not come and then set off through the woods, +his big heart yearning for an unattainable something he could not +define or classify. + +Regardless of where he went the Major crossed the tableland and +started down the incline of the slope. A mile, and he came across some +young hunters beating deer into a fenced runway that converged to a +narrow opening where two warriors stood ready, armed with great +spears. He turned to the left, crossing a little burnt clearing which +still bore the stubble of the season's harvest. Another half-mile and +he suddenly came upon a grass lean-to behind which two old Hillmen +grimly stirred a simmering pot from which arose an overpowering +stench: he fled the spot, knowing the sinister character of the +venomous brew. + +The sun was low when he returned to the hut, still unhappy over +Ahma's failure to appear. In a few minutes Terry entered the shack. He +had come from the direction of Ohto's house, and his face was cleared +of the perplexity of the last few days. + +During supper Terry studied the moody face of his friend, but forebore +comment. At the hour of sunset--the hour when the superstitious +Hillmen looked for their "signs"--the savages thronged the clearing in +mute expectancy. It was apparent that Ohto's injunction had been +communicated throughout the Hills, as each night the crowd who waited +the sign was augmented by contingents from other villages. The +hundreds stood, silent, as the sun sank slowly into a horizon of white +clouds which flushed pink, brightened into shades of rose and crimson. +For a brief moment the upturned faces of the brown host were ruddied; +they stood motionless, mute, while dusk settled. Then night fell +almost at a stroke. + +Again there had been no revelation. As the heaped fires illuminated +the clearing, five mature Hillmen stalked past the white men's hut and +into the forest. Terry identified them to the Major as the sub-chiefs +who ruled the five adjacent villages. + +The Major sat in the window a while, watching the Hillmen, who +squatted around the fires smoking their ridiculously tiny pipes and +conversing in low gutturals. He fidgeted, then left Terry +unceremoniously and skirting the village through the woods unseen by +the crowd, he waited an hour near Ohto's house in the hope of seeing +Ahma. Disappointed, he returned and threw himself on the cot. + +Terry sat in his accustomed place in the doorway, watching the fleecy +clouds that a high wind drove across the sky, vast sliding shutters +which opened and closed over the cool glow of the moon. The cold +breeze chilled the Major, and he drew his blanket tight about him. +Terry's voice roused him from his dejected reverie. + +"Major, I notice that you didn't carry your gun to-day. Don't go +without it again." + +The Major half rose: "Why--you don't think--I haven't seen any +indication of--" + +"I guess you've forgotten that we are in the Hill Country. If they +find a 'sign' that is unfavorable to us--there won't be any delay. And +we don't want to sell out cheaply." + +The grave judicial tones startled the Major. In his absorption in the +white girl he had lost sight of their precarious situation. + +Terry went on: "The tide of sentiment is turning against us. They seem +more antagonistic, more sullen. So please be careful." + +Terry lapsed silent and sat in the door, chin in hand. Soon the +increasing wind drove the Major under his blanket again, and overcome +by a curious feeling of comfort and security in the mere presence of +the slight figure huddled at the door, he soon fell asleep. + +Terry, unmindful of the chill breeze, remained in the doorway, deep in +thought. Suddenly he brought his hand to his knee in quick decision, +and after tip-toeing over to the Major to be sure that he slept, he +silently departed the hut and skirting the edge of the moonlit +clearing, disappeared into the lane that led to the house where Ahma +lived. + + * * * * * + +Toward morning the Major woke with a start, bewildered by an unearthly +sound that smote his ears. The wind had risen to a gale, tearing the +fleece from the sky, so that the moon peered down upon a sea of +treetops turbulent with the buffets of rushing air. + +He sat up straight to relieve the thunderous humming in his head, then +comprehending that the amazing sound was a reality, he strove to solve +the source of the bewildering tones. A deep, low murmuring filled the +air, swelling in volume with each heavier gust which drove over the +mountain: the sound deepened and strengthened, mounting to a sustained +musical rumble that almost stupefied him. + +"Ooooommmmmm-ah-oooommmmmmmm-ah-oooooo-ommmmmmm." The muffled volume +diminished, increased again with fresh burst of fleeting wind, and as +the wind subsided suddenly, the vibrant note fluttered, died away. + +The Major had lived too long and too much to believe in the +supernatural but in the dark he found relief in the sound of his own +voice. + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" he breathed. "Some ghost! No wonder they believe in +signs up here!" + +He saw that the wind had blown shut the door into Terry's room. +Knowing his habit of ventilation he rose to open it, and as it swung +ajar he saw that Terry was not there. + +He stood in the dim room a moment, staring out of the window at the +triple rows of huts which the moonlight had transformed into elfin +playhouses. Perplexity as to Terry's whereabouts gave way to deep +anxiety. Then his eyes caught the flicker of something white in the +shadowy grove that fronted Ohto's house. Looking closely, he watched +it flutter away among the trees, then a darker figure emerged from the +spot. + +It was Terry. + +The Major's big hands closed hard upon the bamboo sill. Ahma! Terry! +For the first time in his passionless life he felt the fangs of the +green-eyed monster. + +An impulse to deceive, unusual with him, hurried the Major into the +folds of his blanket before Terry entered, but by the time Terry had +thrown himself upon his couch the Major was ashamed of the duplicity +and spoke to uncover the deceit. + +"Terry, what was that infernal sound that waked me up a while ago?" + +"The gale playing on the Agong, Major." + +The Major said no more but tossed on the hard couch until daylight +shot through the trees. He rose at once and in a few minutes Terry +joined him, a little hollow-eyed with fatigue. The Major pointed at +his soiled shirt and breeches, then at the soaked leggings and shoes. + +"Man, you're a sight! Fall in the creek?" + +Terry grinned contentedly. "No. This waiting was getting +monotonous--so I fixed up a sign for them!" + +"That infernal noise, you mean?" + +"No. The wind always does that." + +"Well, what did you do?" + +Terry's grin broadened. "I'm not going to spoil it for you by telling, +but if you stick around you'll see a sizeable 'natural' phenomenon +within a day or so. In the east, too, the most favorable quarter!" + +The Major could extract nothing further from him, so desisted after an +irate: "Well, you let me in on these stunts after this. You're all +in--and here I lay sleeping all night!" + +Terry sobered. "Major, we did not need you--we got along all right." + +"We?" Heartsick, the Major sought to plunge the iron deeper. But Terry +had slipped out to clean up at the creek before the girls should come. + +That morning they noted that for the first time a number of warriors +hung around the village, watching the hut where the white men lived +with a studied insolence that proved their hostility. Pud-Pud was of +them, and loudest in his talk. At noon a large crowd had gathered, +composed of those most inimical to the strangers. + +While the two stood near the entrance to their shack watching the +eddying currents of almost naked humanity they saw Pud-Pud detach +himself from his companions and swagger toward them, spear in hand. + +The crowd watched him eagerly as he advanced to test the mettle of the +pale outlanders: Pud-Pud had boasted that he would end this suspense. + +The insolent savage advanced, stopped ten feet from them and +brandished his weapon, his attitude one of utter contempt. He spat at +them. + +Rage suffused the Major's face and his hand crept into his shirt +front, but before he could withdraw the gun Terry whispered a +restraining caution. + +"I know him, Major,--a grandstander." + +Terry stepped in front of the Major and returned the savage's stare. A +moment they battled, then the Hillman saw something in the white face +that disconcerted him, so that his offensive black eyes lost their +hint of insult, wavered, fell. As Terry moved toward him slowly, +Pud-Pud hesitated, then gave way before the stern visage of the +approaching American. + +Terry, boring him with cold gray eyes, came faster: retreating rapidly +to maintain his distance from the white man, Pud-Pud hurried his +backward pace toward the ring of silent Hillmen who watched them. +Heedless of his steps, conscious only of an overwhelming desire to +maintain a safe distance from this purposeful white man whom he had +affronted, Pud-Pud backed away, eyes fastened upon the pale avenger. + +Moving suddenly to the right, Terry forced him to alter the direction +of his hurrying footsteps. The rapid heels hit a bowlder and Pud-Pud +fell backward into one of the cooking places, his spear flying +aimlessly into the air as the sitting portions of his anatomy came +into contact with the red hot stones. + +One howl and one swift contortion of outraged flesh lifted him from +the spot and he escaped through the crowd, followed by the mocking +laughter of the Hillmen. Terry picked up the spear and crossed the +circle of savages to hand it to the largest and loudest savage in the +group to which the braggart had belonged. He looked him full in the +eye with a significance fully understood by the onlookers, then +turned his back upon him and returned to the Major. + +The Major was convulsed: "I saw what you--had in mind--when you +circled him toward it," he laughed. "It must have been hot with +nothing but a red G-string between his rump and those coals!" + +But the incident was significant of the attitude of many of the +Hillmen. Inside the hut they examined their pistols carefully, Terry +insisting that the Major take two of his extra magazines. + +The Major, in grim mood, left for a long walk. In crossing the +clearing he purposely cut straight toward a group of warriors who at +the last moment stepped sullenly aside to let him pass. Surlily +pleased with his little victory, he crossed the broad plateau and +struck down the slope, unconscious of his direction in the worried +fumbling of his problems and his hurt. He started down the first great +incline, distrait, sorely troubled. He crossed a green expanse where +grass had sprung up over the site of an abandoned clearing, and as he +reached the trees which marked its edge he was startled by the sudden +appearance of two Hillmen who stepped out to confront him, pointing +their spears toward the village in unmistakable gesture. + +As he angrily struck another course he realized for the first time how +complete his absorption in Ahma had become. He had forgotten that he +and Terry were prisoners, had lost sight of the mission that had +brought him into the Hills. + +Chastened, he slowly retraced his way to the edge of the woods and sat +down upon a windfall to think it all out. He blamed only himself. Her +interest in him, he thought dully, had been but a friendship natural +toward the friend of the one for whom she cared. Little things came +back to him: her expression when she watched Terry approach, the +sympathy that existed between them, little understandings which he had +attributed to nothing more than longer acquaintance. It suddenly +occurred to him that she had helped nurse him when he was ill. And it +came to him that he had given little thought to the days when Terry +had fought off death, had been heedless of what those days must have +been when Terry looked from the mountain deep into the valley of the +shadow, he groaned aloud. + +He shook his head, miserably: "Here I've been, mooning around like +a--like a--and left him to do all the worrying--all the planning! Last +night I slept while he--" He cursed himself for a fatuous fool. + +When he rose, the bitterness of spirit had left him, and his sacrifice +had been made, but his lips were white with suffering. + +As he neared the village his course took him about the base of the +crag, and as he rounded the western side he heard the murmur of +subdued voices. He slowed and approached cautiously. A jutting +buttress of rock masked the talkers until he was almost upon them, and +as he turned this corner he halted in a wretched pang of the jealousy +he thought he had subdued. + +Terry and Ahma sat on a bench of rock, their backs to him, unaware of +his presence. Terry's trim head was bent forward as if he studied the +western horizon; she leaned against him in gentle contact of firm +white shoulder. + +For a moment the Major's heart thumped painfully, then the confusion +of the unwitting eavesdropper compelled him to make his presence +known. He did so with that fine discrimination and artful delicacy he +summoned in times of emotional stress. + +"Hello," he said. + +Both turned, and rose, unembarrassed. Terry's welcome shone in his +face, and Ahma was radiant with a quick emotion which, true to the +traditions of those among whom she had been reared, she made no effort +to dissemble or restrain. The Major dropped his eyes before the gaze, +noting, dully, how wind and sun had faintly tanned the neck and +shoulders and limbs. Sun and wind were patent, too, in the vigor and +elasticity of the slim, loose clad form. + +"I'm teaching her English, Major," Terry said. + +For a moment she maintained her searching of the Major's averted eyes, +then spoke a word to Terry and turned to go. A few steps took her to +the buttress, where she stopped and turned her eyes full upon the +Major, and spoke in English, teasingly: + +"Hello, sir." + +The Major answered in a voice that sounded harsh in his own ears and +watched her disappear around the corner. Then he spoke to Terry +without facing him. + +"She does speak English!" + +"Not much, yet. She really meant 'good-by.'" + +They started toward the village slowly, each wrapped in his own +meditations. Passing round the eastern side of the cone, Terry halted +to gaze searchingly at the Great Agong hung over the stone platform +far overhead. Anxiety was evident in his manner as he hastened to +catch up with the Major, who had walked on. + +The throng had gathered earlier than usual, the clearing was packed +more densely than upon any previous afternoon. The two Americans +avoided the clearing, passing to their shack directly through the +woods. + +The Major dropped down on his bench and pillowed his head on what +remained of his pack, staring up at the grass roofing. Shortly the +serving woman appeared with their suppers, but neither moved, so she +placed the two bowls on the floor mat near where Terry sat and +withdrew noiselessly. + +As the sun sank below the trees, the Major stirred out of his +melancholy and twisting over on the hard cot sought the reason for +Terry's long silence. Terry sat, as always, at the top of the crude +steps, gazing over the trees. The Major was shocked at the utter +dejection of the slumped figure, the pain that showed in the set +muscles of the thin face. + +The Major sat up. "What is the matter, Terry? You aren't sick?" + +"No, Major. I'm all right." His tone was weary. + +"What is the matter! Is this suspense--" + +Terry shook his head. "No, Major. It's something else--something home. +I expected--I hoped for some news before I came up--news I did not +receive." + +A flash of memory, and the Major asked: "A cable?" + +At the bare nod of head he jumped upright and reaching into his hip +pocket brought out his purse to extract the cablegram he had brought +up but forgotten. Crossing the little room, he dropped it on Terry's +knees. + +Terry ripped open the envelope, hesitated, then unfolded the message. +And as the Major looked on, every vestige of care and patient +suffering left the white face, the wistful line was ironed from the +corner of his mouth and Terry stood up a joyous, vibrant youth. + +He had read: + + Lieut. Richard Terry, P.C. + + Davao, Mindanao, P. I. + + At last the perfect Christmas gift. Am sailing immediately + to claim it. Arriving Zamboanga January twenty-sixth with + Susan and Ellis. + + DEANE. + +He carefully refolded the sheet and placed it in his shirt pocket, +then turned to the Major, his eyes darkened with such a joy as the +Major had never seen. + +"This message will cost you a wedding present, Major!" + +"What now?" asked the Major. Things were moving too fast since he +reached the Hills. + +"It is from ... a girl. I left home--oh, foolishly. But she is on her +way over here, with my sister and brother-in-law. That's where the +present comes in!" + +"But--but--what about Ahma?" + +"Ahma?" Terry asked, in his turn astounded. In Terry's bewilderment +the Major understood that his own unhappiness had been unfounded. At +his shout of delight the Hillmen all turned toward the white men's +hut, wondering at the joyous antics of the strange pair. + +In a few minutes the Major had calmed sufficiently to discuss their +affairs. + +"But, Major," Terry asked him, "why did you think that we--Ahma and +I--that we--you know?" + +"Why, everything. I saw you leave her early this morning over there in +the woods. Then, this afternoon--the way you sat together, and--and +everything!" + +"Last night--why, she helped me fix up that 'sign' I told you about: +and to-day we were talking about you--she has asked me a million +questions about you--and about white girls. She has a jealous streak +in her--as you will learn!" + +More explanations, and Terry suddenly reverted to their plight. + +"Now everything depends upon that sign I fabricated. If it fails--or +if an unfavorable natural sign comes first.... You know I must be in +Zamboanga on the twenty-sixth, some way." + +He lapsed into reverie. The Major fidgeted, reached for his hat and +stepped to the door, a bit shamefaced. + +"Terry," he said, awkwardly, "if you don't mind I think I'll run over +toward Ahma's house. There is a lot to talk over with her now and I +guess I--" + +His words were drowned in a resounding crash that blotted out all +other sounds. The village shook with the jarring impact of some vast +missile striking near, the air filled with the roar of shattering +rock and heavy rumble of sliding earth. + +The Hillmen bounded upright at the first terrific crash and stood +transfixed, witless, superstitious fear written upon every brown face. + +A dead silence followed the dying out of the last thunderous echoes, +then a child whimpered, another, and the women took up the whining +note. A warrior, one of the sub-chiefs from a neighboring village, +raised a braceleted arm in astounded gesture toward the crag. + +"The SIGN! The SIGN!" he shouted. + +The thousand heads raised as one, and taking up the cry, surged toward +the great cone, sifting through the timber like brown seeds through a +screen. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +CIVILIZATION DAWNS IN THE HILLS + + +When the tumult had subsided, the amazed Major wheeled to face Terry's +quizzical grin. + +"Well, Major," he said, "there is their merry little 'sign'! The darn +thing worked!" + +The Major pulled him toward the door. "Come on," he exclaimed. "Let's +see what happened." + +He hurried down the short ladder ahead of Terry and raced through the +strip of woods to where the mob was packed about the base of the cone. +The Major smashed an unceremonious pathway through the brown jam and +in a moment they stood at the foot of the crest. + +A large segment of the huge pillar of rock had broken off and in +falling had carried thousands of tons of shale and eroded stone. The +immense rock, whose fracture and fall had precipitated the slide, lay +directly under the Tribal Agong, at which the Hillmen were staring up, +dumfounded. + +Following their upward gaze the Major saw that the fallen stone had +formed the platform beneath the Agong, which now pivoted on its +granite bracket over a cliff which fell sheer for hundreds of feet +before curving into the stiff slope where crag fused into tableland. +The great black gong hung directly over them. Looking closely, +Bronner saw that it swung slowly in the evening breeze, and moved by +the same impulse that had impelled him the first time he stood beneath +it, he shouldered their way through the crowd to a safer position. + +"You need not worry about its falling, Major. It will hang there for a +thousand years." + +"I know it, but it gets me just the--what's that they're yelling?" he +exclaimed, as a swelling chorus of guttural shouts rose from the +excited throng. + +"They are saying that the Tribal Agong can never be sounded +again--without the platform they can't reach it." As a new phrase was +caught up and repeated by hundreds of voices he added: "And now they +are calling for Ohto to interpret the sign!" + +Several of the older savages tore out of the densely packed throng and +sped toward Ohto's house. In a few moments one of them returned and +announced that the chieftain would arrive shortly. The two white men, +absorbed in the drama, did not notice that four of the warriors who +had summoned Ohto had returned by another path and taken up their +position behind the captives, spears in hand, grim. + +Ohto advanced slowly through the trees and emerged into the open space +about the crag. The Hillmen gave way respectfully and he walked to the +base of the cone through a wide lane opened up for his passage. Age +slowed his steps but he walked erect, his head held high in simple +dignity and gratitude for the silent homage his people offered. + +Pausing near the base he surveyed the evidences of cleavage of the +ancient rock, the tribe's historic rallying point. Then he raised his +eyes to the Agong. + +The dense circle of Hillmen bated their breath while the beloved +patriarch communed with the spirits of the long line who had heard the +happy song of the bronze-lipped gong. A deep hush pervaded the +plateau, now lighted with the last white rays of the dipping sun. + +The sage turned to his people, his furrowed face burdened with an +added melancholy. His voice came low and weak, so that the assemblage +bent forward in strained silence to hear his fateful words. Terry +gripped the Major's arm, whispering the translation. + + * * * * * + +"Listen, my children. We asked for guidance, and a sign is sent to the +east of Ohto's lodge--a happy omen. + +"The breaking of this age-old stone betokens the breaking of our +ancient custom ... no longer will we bar the stranger from the Hills +... and those who are with us now may go in peace, or stay in peace." + +He paused, and a great sigh of relieved suspense rose from the throng. +The four armed men left their position behind the two white men and +melted into the dense circle. + +Terry gave the Major's arm a last ecstatic squeeze. "It's working out +just as we planned! I'll be back soon." + +He raced through the trees toward Ohto's house, returning in a couple +of minutes to find Ohto still standing with bowed head before his +people. + +A rustle of whispers roused him, and he raised his silvered head to +behold the loveliness of his stolen foster-child. Summoned by Terry, +Ahma had come out of the shadows of the trees and stood at the forest +end of the lane made for Ohto's passage through the crowd. + +The old man extended his hand toward her in compelling gesture and she +went to him with the agile swiftness of a half-wild thing. A moment he +lightly stroked the rippling mass of hair, then he turned to his +people again. + +"Ohto said that the Tribal Agong would ring for the marriage of this +white daughter of our tribe--but now--" + +They followed his sadly expressive gaze to where the gong hung far out +over the cliff, inaccessible to human touch. + +"Daughter, it _will_ be rung for you ... somehow.... Ohto has said it. +I hope to live to hear it rung ... when you have found him who is to +share your house--and after that, I do not care." + +He paused again--lost in a patriarch's vague memories of other years. +Retrieving his vagrant thoughts, he caught the frank message of the +upturned face, a message which startled as it pleased him. + +"Ah! You have found him, then? Let him step forth." + +Ohto searched every brown face in the hushed circle, but none stepped +forward. + +Ahma slowly turned her head toward where the two white men stood +apart, her eyes fastened upon Major Bronner. Terry gently pushed him +forward. Trembling, his tanned face bloodless, the Major advanced and +took her outstretched hand. + +Ohto studied the Major, then turned to Terry. For a long moment he +searched the lad's strong face, a deep disappointment in his own, +before he again faced the two before him. + +"I had not thought of this. But it will do. It is as it should +be--white will be happier with white. But ... will she stay until Ohto +joins his fathers?" + +The Major hesitated, then answered the sadly anxious question with a +nod. He had no voice. + +"Then she is yours ... after you have found a way to ring the Tribal +Agong for her marriage. Ohto never spoke in vain. Ring the Agong +first." + +The Major's glance swept from Ahma to the lofty gong. His triumphant +joy gave way to deepest dejection. He saw no way to fulfil the chief's +requirement, and he turned despairingly to Terry, who had shouldered +through the crowd and stood beside him. + +The Hillmen had accepted Ohto's interpretation unquestioningly. Their +chief had spoken. The unexpectedness of the new phase, the avowal of +love by the tribe's adopted daughter for one of the outlanders, had +appealed to the keen sense of the dramatic that is shared by all +primitive peoples. Their brown skins coppered by the rosy glow of the +setting sun, they stood in strained suspense awaiting the climax. + +All but Pud-Pud. He jostled an avenue through the innermost ring of +Hillmen and leaped out in front of Terry, brandishing a short blow +tube he carried and laughing in shrill derision. + +"Ya, white men! Now ring the Agong! Ring the Agong and get your woman! +I saw! I watched! And I laughed because I knew the Agong would never +ring again! Yeah! Now ring it!" + +The Major was in no mood for finesse: with a vicious shove he sent the +vindictive Pud-Pud sprawling, then turned to Terry, worriedly. + +"What are we going to do?" + +Terry shook his head, at a loss. This was a contingency he had not +foreseen. He glanced penitently at the melancholy girl, at the old man +who waited, swept the circle of tense faces, then resumed his hopeless +contemplation of the gong overhead. + +Swiftly Ahma broke the tableau. Dropping the Major's hand she darted +forward to where Pud-Pud had risen to his knees, her white foot +flashing up to dash from his lips the blow tube he leveled at Terry. +The venomous dart sped aimlessly into the air and fell outside the +ring of Hillmen. + +Pud-Pud's violation of the sanctity of council roused Ohto to a wrath +terrible to see. All of the savagery, all of the unbridled fury of a +primitive, passionate nature mounted to his wrinkled face as he +pointed to the culprit with a majestic gesture that summoned the four +armed men. At a word they hustled the terror-stricken savage away to +await Ohto's judgment. + +Ahma calmly returned to the Major's side and together they resumed +their hopeless contemplation of the Agong. He peered up till his neck +ached. + +"Terry," he whispered, "to ring it you have to strike that little knob +in the center, don't you?" + +"Yes." + +Then inspiration shone in the Major's face. He eyed Terry covertly. + +"Wish we had a rifle," he suggested. + +Terry caught his meaning. He fingered his holster but shook his head. +"It can't be done, Major." + +"Sure it can--sure _you_ can! I've seen you shoot!" + +Terry shook his head but the excited Major insisted: "Try it. Rest +your gun on my head. Sure you can do it--and think what it will +mean--the Hills opened up for all time--think what it will mean to the +Governor--and to the Service!" + +The hushed crowd stiffened as they saw the two white men draw back a +hundred feet, wondered as to the character of the strange black thing +the smaller drew from his leather pocket. They watched intently, +thinking to see sorcery wrought before their eyes. + +Terry cocked the weapon and resting his wrist upon the tall Major's +head, sighted carefully. A thousand pairs of eyes focussed upon him. +Could the slim white man ring the gong by pointing a magic finger? + +The Major, braced for the shock of explosion, felt the iron wrist +tremble, grow limp and lift away. He wheeled around to find Terry +shaking his head, uncertain, faltering. He slowly holstered the gun. + +"Major, I keep thinking how I have deceived--this fine old man," he +said. + +The Major stared at him, then exploded: "By making this 'sign' that +saved your life--and mine? Sus-marie-hosep! I've heard of those New +England consciences but--Sus-marie-hosep!" + +Disgust, dismay, affection swept in succession across the Major's +countenance: affection held. He laid his hand upon Terry's shoulder as +he played his ace: + +"Terry, I thought you had a date in Zamboanga on the twenty-sixth!" + +The crowd then saw the white youth stiffen with swift decision, saw +him whirl to face the crag. For a moment he stood with eyes riveted +upon the Agong till the little knob swung toward him, then he bent +slightly at the knees and his hand swept back with a swiftness that +seemed to bring the pistol leaping to meet the extended arm. It raised +to the darkening sky, and the Hills awoke to the resounding crash of +white man's weapons. Six times Terry shot, but only the first two +reports were heard, for the others were swallowed in the booming of +the Agong. + +The sound beat down deafeningly, seemed to enfold them bodily in its +mighty volume, blotting out all else. From the sounding board of cliff +it smote upon their ears in thunderous, sustained, musical tone. +Slowly, the note lessened in volume, deepened, and tumbled down in +vibrant waves that rolled on and on. The sonorous reverberations died +out, then surged again and again in ever fainter, ever deeper tones. + +At last the air quieted, and nothing but the roaring in his ears +remained to convince the Major that the vast sound had been reality. +"Jimmy!" he exploded. "What a noise--and what shooting!" + +A whisper of awe rustled through the surrounding ranks. Ignorant of +firearms, they thought the young American wielded some uncanny power +with his black weapon. Already distinguished as the first white man to +set his foot upon Apo, he was now regarded with a feeling akin to +worship. + +Ohto was silent, lost in a protracted, inscrutable study of Terry's +face. At last the old man turned on his heels to sweep the circle of +his people for confirmation of his surmise. Satisfied, he raised his +hand for silence. + +"There has been worry ... doubt ... among you--who should take up +Ohto's burden when he lets it fall ... soon. You are entering new +times, will meet new and strange things. To Ohto it seems best that he +leave his people under the guidance of a young and strong and kind +chief who knows all these strange things ... one who can lead you +safely into the new life. What say you, my people? Who shall sit in +Ohto's chair when he is gone?" + +For a moment the multitude was silent as the significance of Ohto's +query sank into their slow minds, then a murmur of approval rose among +them, swelled into a deafening shout of acclamation. + +"The pale white man! The pale white man!" + +Terry understood. Uncertain, he turned to the Major, but Ohto +interrupted by addressing him directly. + +"You have heard. When Ohto leaves--and it can not be long--he leaves +his people in your hands. You will be patient, kindly, gentle, with +them. That Ohto knows ... it is written in your face." + +As Terry slowly bowed his head slightly in acceptance of the trust, +the delighted Hillmen stirred, whispered to each other. The hum of +voices grew louder but was instantly hushed by the dramatic gesture +with which Ohto extended his arm toward a low cotton tree that stood +at the edge of the woods. The thousand eager heads turned almost as +one. + +Upon a slender leafless branch which extended at right angles from the +trunk of a _kapok_ tree two large gray wood pigeons had perched side +by side in the close communion of mated birds, heedless of the host +below them. Unafraid, tired, content with what the day had brought +them in the lowlands, they were happy in safe return together to their +mountain home. + +In the hush which followed recognition by the throng, the limoçons +moved closer to each other, wing brushed wing, sleepy lids lowered +over soft eyes to shut out the crimson glory of the dying sun. Then +the little throats throbbed as they voiced gratitude to their Creator +in gentle, low pitched notes, lilting with the joy of life, plaintive +with the brevity of its span. + +The sweet song died with the day, and as dusk reached down in brief +embrace of tropic earth, the birds winged side by side into the +darkening forest. + +Peace settled upon the face of the old man who had made decision +vitally affecting the welfare of the people over whom he had ruled for +two generations. The limoçons had sung in the East. His fathers were +pleased with him. + +A shout of fierce joy burst from the Hillmen. Then the women +surrounded the dainty white girl and bore her off to prepare for the +long ceremony with which the Hill People give in marriage. And the two +friends walked through the woods, arm in arm, silent, profoundly +humble. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"SUS-MARIE-HOSEP!" + + +Terry was happily engaged in remaking the Major's old pack for his own +use when the Major entered the torchlit shack. It lacked an hour till +dawn. Outside, the main clearing was dark, but the big fires which +illuminated the surrounding trees revealed the excited natives still +celebrating Ahma's nuptials in the clearing around Ohto's house. + +Terry straightened up from his task and studied the face of his +friend: fatigue and happiness had softened the serious lines that had +given the Major an appearance of age beyond his years. + +"Major, isn't the ceremony finished yet?" + +"No, it takes forty-eight hours to get married up here--and only two +hours to get buried! But a month ago I would have said that it was +about the correct ratio, at that." + +Terry grinned as he finished the pack and threw it on the floor near +the door, then sat beside the Major on the cot. + +"Major, I want to send up a gift for Ahma by the first runner the +postoffice people send through. It's hard to decide what to give her, +because she is entirely different from other girls, and the usual +bridal gifts would hardly do. Can't you help me out?" + +For a minute the Major pondered heavily: "How about a mirror? She is +twenty years old and has never seen her own reflection." + +"Just the thing! Enter the civilizing influence of vanity in the Hill +Country!" + +Terry drew a notebook from his shirt pocket. "Major, I have jotted +down a list of things we are going to need for this work up here. I +thought it would be better if I had a definite program to submit to +the Governor, with estimate of appropriations necessary, and so on. +First I listed those things you will need in order to build and +furnish your house: cook stoves, lamps, dishes, window glass, and so +on. I think I have included everything, so just run over those things +you will need to begin this work." + +For an hour earnestly they discussed the problems the Major would +confront pending Terry's return to take up the work. They listed a +wide variety of needs--pigs, chickens, medicines, books, tools, seeds: +contingent upon the Governor's approval, they outlined several months +of planting, trail making, establishment of regular communication with +the lowlands, selection of school teachers, of a health officer--all +of the varied instruments needed for the initial work of elevating the +tribesmen out of their barbarism. + +Dawn had dimmed their torches when they finished. For a while they sat +silent, Terry happy in the outcome of this strange adventure in the +Hills, the Major thrilling with the joy that had come to him. + +The Major broke the silence: "Terry, I AM a chump! All this time I've +forgotten to tell you that a captain's commission is waiting your +acceptance in Zamboanga!" + +He went on, slowly: "Are you sure that you can come back here for a +year--after your honeymoon? Maybe she--your wife--won't wish to come." + +"Yes, she will." Terry was confident. "It will be for only one year, +and then--" + +"And then what?" the Major demanded after a while. + +"Then--back home, among my own people. I left home foolishly, Major. I +was restless--looking for a dragon to slay. But I have had a year in +which to think--and I see things differently. During the time I was +sick up here I--I ... well, I know now that a man need not cross the +world to find service: he can be just as useful in preventing bunions +as in--as in such lucky ventures as this." + +"Preventing bunions?" The Major was puzzled. + +But Terry did not answer. He had risen to finish his preparations for +the journey down. + +"Just one more thing, Terry. You promised to tell me how you started +that little avalanche--the 'sign.'" + +Something of the serenity faded from Terry's face as he turned to +explain: "I had been up there several times, and had noticed a deep +crevice that split the platform from the parent rock. It would have +fallen within a few months. I carried up some softwood wedges, drove +them into the fault, poured in a lot of water and expansion did the +rest." + +The Major visualized the toil and peril of lugging heavy logs up the +spiral trail at night. "Why didn't you let me help?" he demanded. + +"Well, Ahma kept guard for me, and that was enough. If I had been +caught I could probably have talked myself out of the scrape, but it +might have gone harder with you. Luckily the timbers I used for wedges +were buried in the slide." + +The Major's face clouded swiftly: "Say, Terry! That scoundrel Pud-Pud +said that he saw you that night--he can ruin the thing yet if he +talks!" + +Terry shook his head, a little sorrowfully: "No, Pud-Pud will never +talk to anybody about anything again. I got to Ohto too late: they had +already executed sentence." + +"What did they do with him?" + +"Shot him full of darts and turned him loose in the Dark Forest. So I +confessed to Ohto that I contrived the 'sign.' Of course I made him +understand that you had nothing to do with the--trickery." + +"What did he say--what is he going to do about it?" The Major was +anxious. + +"He had known about it all the time--his men have trailed every step +we have taken, watched everything we have done." + +A slow blush mounted the Major's rugged features as he thought of the +possibility that secret onlookers had witnessed his meeting with Ahma +just before the wedding ceremony when he had sought to teach her the +White Man's customs of caress. The flush persisted as he turned to +Terry. + +"There's one thing I forgot to ask you to buy for me. I want a good +talking machine, with plenty of records." He paused, then continued +abstractedly: "She can keep it in her house." + +Terry looked up in astonishment. "In _her_ house? Aren't you both +going to live in the same house?" + +"No. Not till you send a missionary up here to marry us. I don't +figure that two days of savage rites constitutes a marriage--but I'm +going to have a deuce of a time trying to explain it to Ahma!" + +Terry nodded sympathetically and walked the springy floor a dozen +times, nonplussed by the Major's dilemma. Pausing in his preoccupation +before the open window he noted vaguely that the nuptial fires were +yellowing before the approach of dawn: a moment and he started +violently as the solution struck him and he whirled upon the dejected +groom with beaming countenance. + +"Say!" he shouted, "I'm certainly not going down with you two only +half-married--she a bride and you not a groom! You forget that as +Senior Inspector of Constabulary I am an ex-officio Justice of the +Peace! Come on!" + +He lifted the Major by the arm and shot him through the doorway with +an exuberant shove that left him no alternative save a jarring leap to +the ground. Terry landed beside him as light as a cat, and catching +him by the elbow he hurried him on through the woods and into the +fading light of the big fires that burned before Ohto's house. + +Terry, his eyes dancing joyously, broke up the dance with which a +hundred Hill People were keeping the ceremonial pot boiling, and +despatched two women to fetch the bride, who had sought a brief +respite from the interminable ritual. Shortly Ahma appeared before +them, her dark eyes shadowed with fatigue, but radiant with +exaltation. + +Understanding from Terry's few words that the Major desired that they +be united also in accordance with the rites of his own people, she +stepped quietly before Terry and took the Major's outstretched hand. +The crowd of natives, who had crowded about them, waited the alien +ritual curiously. + +Ahma was clad in the white costume in which the Major had first seen +her. A scarlet hibiscus blossom, the Hillmen's nuptial flower, was +thrust in her black hair, but there was no other addition to her scant +covering. + +Possessed of a sudden spirit of banter Terry turned to the Major: +"Before I begin, Major, I wish to congratulate you upon having won to +the bliss of matrimony without violating that bachelor formula which +you so often boasted." + +"What formula?" + +Terry's voice deepened in mimicry: "'No petticoats for mine!'" + +A moment he enjoyed the Major's embarrassment, then composed himself +to the business in hand, happy, confident. + +But--the competent Terry fumbled. Swept away in the exuberance of +having found a way out for the Major, he had forgotten that, never +having exercised his legal privilege of joining in marriage in a +province where all of the natives were either Catholic or Mohammedan, +he was wanting in the phraseology the ceremony demanded. + +Vainly he sought inspiration in a sky chill with the pale lights of +daybreak. He shuffled his feet nervously, scowled at the ring of +brown-skinned spectators, looked at his watch. As the sweat of worry +appeared upon his white forehead he drew his handkerchief and wiped +his face vigorously, then blew his nose resoundingly. This last device +seemed to serve. + +He turned to the serene couple who waited patiently: "Do you, John +Bronner, take this woman, Ahma--Ahma of the Hills, to be your lawful +wedded wife, to love and cherish and to--er--provide for?" + +"I do," said the Major. He was proud of Terry--trust the Constabulary +to see a thing through! + +Terry was triumphant in his success. He unconsciously drew up his +slim, muscular figure as he turned to the bride, focussing his gaze +upon the blossom in the waves of jet locks that tumbled smoothly about +the downcast head. + +"And do you, Ahma of the Hills, take this man, John Bronner, to be +your wedded lawful husband, to love and to--er--care for when +he--er--is sick?" + +She caught the groom's whispered instructions and grasped the +wonderful import of the unknown words that Terry had spoken. Twice her +silent lips formed the two words of response in soundless practice, +then she looked up squarely into Terry's eyes and pronounced them. + +"I do." + +Either the clear voice was too rich with gladness, or else she should +not have turned the starry eyes so suddenly upon him. Lost for a long +moment in the splendor of the vision opened up to him, he forced +himself back to the duty of the minute. But he was off the track +again. + +He floundered for an opening. Bits of biblical and legal phrases +raced through his tortured brain, but none seemed appropriate to this +situation. The haunt of the dark eyes obscured his vision, the limpid +"I do," filled his ears. "I do." The significance of the words brought +him back to the point of interruption, and he turned to them, +desperate, vague. + +"You do? You do, eh--you both do ... well, ... join hands! I do say +and declare this twenty-third day of January that you are man and wife +in accord with the law of this land, and now--" + +He glared at the grinning beneficiary of the service, and finished: +"And now--and now what I--what God and I have joined let no man put +asunder ... till death do us part ... so help me God, Amen!" + +In an agony of torment he ripped through the crowd and raced to the +shack, where the Major joined him after taking Ahma into Ohto's house. +It was now broad daylight, and the huts were emptying of the crowd +waking to take up the burden of fiesta. + +Terry buckled up his pack, joining in the Major's mirth. + +"But you are married all right. I will send you up a certificate as +soon as I reach Zamboanga, all signed and sealed and everything." + +They became serious in thought of imminent separation. Now that the +time had come Terry dreaded leaving his friend alone in the Hills. + +"I will relieve you in three months, Major," he said. + +"You needn't hurry--don't forget I'm on a honeymoon, too!" + +Terry hesitated, then risked the question that had been bothering +him: "After we come--what are you going to do? Will Ahma be ready to +go below?" + +"No, she will not. I am figuring on leaving her here a few +months--your wife can teach her to--to dress, and all that. And I +can't take her away so long as Ohto lives. After that, I want to take +her to the States. She learns fast, Terry,--and I want her to see +Europe--she will learn a lot there, too!" + +The old woman brought them their breakfast. The Major hurried through +the meal and left to secure a guide to take Terry down, explaining +that he would join him in the woods. Terry ate under the sorrowing +eyes of the faithful woman, and when he finished he presented her with +the only gaud that remained to him, the gold medallion from his fob. +She scurried out to display it, the proudest woman, save one, in all +the Hills. + +Slinging the pack across his shoulders he turned for a last look at +the little hut that had sheltered him. Within its cramped walls he had +suffered, had known grave peril, and great joy. A hint of the old +wistfulness flickered about the corner of his mouth, then he left the +hut and strode through the clearing into the woods, halting to wave +cheerfully at the Hillmen who somberly watched the departure of their +future chief. + +He dipped over the edge of the plateau and found the Major awaiting +him with Ahma and the young warrior who was to guide him down. From +where they stood at the edge of a wide glade they could see far down +over the tops of the trees that matted the slope. In the clear morning +air the mists which gleamed over the distant Gulf shone white as +billowed snow. There lay Davao! Davao, then Zamboanga, then--! A +fiercely glad light blazed in Terry's gray eyes, then darkened in +anticipation of leaving the Major alone and with that melancholy with +which all men face the knowledge that even as Life turns the pages of +existence into its happiest chapter, she closes each finished page +forever. + +The Major spoke first. "This guide knows the shortest route. He will +take you safe past all the man traps--you should sleep but one night +on the trail. Give my regards to Lindsey, Sears,--everybody." + +Ahma looked from one to the other, not quite understanding what they +said, but understanding fully what they did not say. That showed in +the face of each. + +"Major, I have never said anything about your--how I feel about your +risking the Hills to search for me, when it meant almost certain +death." + +Death!... For an instant the Major again stood helpless in the dark +woods behind Lindsey's plantation embraced in coils of steel that +quivered, and heard the crash of delivering shots.... He searched the +white face, in which the lines of suffering from a chivalrously +contracted fever still lingered. An extraordinary warm cataract +suddenly obscured his vision. + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" he spluttered. "Good-by." + +Their hands gripped hard in an abiding friendship, then Terry turned +to Ahma doubtfully, at a loss as to how to bid adieu to this creature +of the Hills who knew so few of the white man's words or usages. He +found, too, a source of embarrassment in her new capacity of wife. As +she gazed up at him he looked away in boyish confusion. + +The Major grasped the situation and addressed her very slowly in +English: "Ahma, say good-by to him." + +As she nodded brightly, understanding, the Major turned to Terry as +proud as Punch: "You see--she is learning fast! Can't you imagine her, +all dressed up and everything, in Europe?" + +Terry focussed his eyes safely upon the white line that marked the +part in her hair, and carefully pronounced each English word. + +"Ahma, I am leaving for a while. Understand?" + +She bobbed the dark head: "I do," she said. + +The memories wrought by the limpid "I do" were a bit unsettling. He +addressed the jet locks again: "Good-by." + +She looked at the capable hand he extended toward her, puzzled at the +gesture, then looked at the Major. He said a single word in dialect +and her small white teeth glistened in a smile of comprehension. She +approached close to Terry. + +"I know. You say--good-night. I know how--to good-night." + +Her concentration upon the unaccustomed pronunciations was bewitching. +To relieve the strain of embarrassment he felt in her closeness to +him, he turned to the grinning Major. + +"As you say--she _does_ learn quickly," he offered, rather vaguely. + +She came closer still. "Yes, I know--how to--good-night!" she trilled: +"Good-night is kiss!" + +She called it "Keez" but Terry understood. If he did not then he did +an instant later when he felt the clasp of warm round arms, the +molding pressure of a soft form and the swift impress of full +sensitive lips. + +Loosed, he straightened up. His blush was explosive. Bewildered, he +shrugged the light pack higher on his shoulders and gestured his +readiness to the warrior who had stood watching the inexplicable ways +of these strange white folk. + +Following the Hillman, Terry set off across the glade. Midway down the +green sward he wheeled. + +"I should say she DOES learn fast!" he called. "You won't need to take +HER to Europe!" + +The two stood watching him as he followed the powerful little savage. +As the forest swallowed up the slim form the Major blinked rapidly, +and gripped the little hand he held. + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" he exclaimed huskily. "But won't they be glad to +see him in Davao! And in Zamboanga!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE FOX SKIN + + +Terry pushed the hardy Hillman to his limit, so that when night fell +they were far down among the foothills, the Dark Forest behind them. +At daylight the Hillman was proudly mounting homeward, Terry's belt +tightly buckled about his naked trunk. The white man's last +dispensable possession had gone as a reward for the service. + +Terry's joyous urge carried him swiftly, so that in an hour he dropped +out of the foothills and into the heat of the jungled lowlands. At +noon he climbed Sears' steps and dropped into a porch chair, his +clothes wet with perspiration and torn by contact with brush and +thorn, for he had cut straight through the woods. + +He had nearly emptied Sears' water bottle when he saw the big planter +coming out of a wonderful growth of hemp. Sears advanced slowly, deep +in thought, not looking up till he had mounted the last step. At sight +of Terry's grinning features he recoiled violently, then as the lad +rose, he jumped forward to wring his hand furiously. Incapable of +coherent speech for several minutes, he at last mastered his vocal +cords. + +"Man! I thought you were a ghost!" he cried. + +Terry sketched his journey into the Hills, and added a brief account +of the experiences he and the Major had undergone. Learning that the +Major was also safe, Sears called a Bogobo boy and issued instructions +that sent him scurrying into one of the Bogobo huts. In a few minutes +he returned bearing a small agong and striker. + +Under Sears' directions he hung it upon a pole in front of the house +and struck it sharply, again and again. As the deep notes carried out +through the still, hot woods Sears motioned to him to desist and +turned to Terry. + +"Listen!" he exclaimed, intent, his hand on Terry's shoulder. + +In a moment another agong, somewhere close to the south, sounded +several times, then another further away, then another, another. Soon +the noon stillness of the brush pulsed with the mystic multi-tones of +scores of far agongs rung from plantations. Slowly the murmur grew as +hundreds of agongs rung by Bogobos in the foothills took up the +signal, flooding the hemplands with a glad, bronze chorus. + +Sears gripped Terry's shoulder hard, his eyes brimming. + +"That's the signal we fixed up," he said. "Welcome home!" + +He hovered over Terry, questioning, commenting, incredulous over the +Major's marriage, overjoyed that the quinine he had given Terry had +been a factor in his recovery. After lunch Terry borrowed Sears' best +pony and rode away with the planter's profane benedictions in his +ears. + +He rode hard, but each familiar landmark, each twist in trail, each +sight of river, each expanse of glistening hemp plants, thrilled him +with a sense of homecoming. Once, drawing up to cool and water his +pony, he caught the sparkle of the sunny Gulf, his nostrils sensed its +tang, and with the surge of thanksgiving for the wonderful good +fortune that had attended him, he first realized the strain of the +past weeks. + +Great as was his hurry to reach Davao--an hour's tardiness might mean +the loss of the weekly steamer--he spent a half-hour with Lindsey, who +had ridden out to the trail in the hope of intercepting him. From +Lindsey he learned more of the suspense that had hung over the Gulf +since his disappearance, the deep anxiety that had spread among the +Bogobos and silenced every agong in the foothills. + +"And Terry--the night the Giant Agong rang up there--we most went +crazy!" + +"We wondered if you heard it, Lindsey." + +"Heard it! Heard it? It reached clear over on the East Coast. Boynton +heard it over there." + +Terry pressed on. Three miles below he found Casey was out to meet +him, and further on, Burns. At four o'clock he dismounted to greet +some Bogobos whom he overtook on the trail. Pushing Sears' little +brown hard, he rode into Davao at five o'clock. + +The plaza was crowded. Warned of his coming by the agong chorus, the +whole town had turned out, Americans, Filipinos, Chinese, several +Spaniards and Moros. The sleepy, dusty square waked to their noisy +welcome. + +"_El Solitario!! El Conquistador del Malabanan!_" + +Laughing, misty eyed with the warmth of their greeting, he stood in +the center of the jostling crowd, shaking hands, calling each white, +native and Mongolian by name. Then the Macabebes claimed him and swept +him into the privacy of the cuartel. + +The jealous Matak had waited till Terry entered the house that his +welcome might be unshared. + +"Master, I know you come back. All time I know," he assured him +gravely, then looked him over and sent out for the barber. Solemn and +efficient as ever, he hustled his master under the shower, helped him +into the first starched clothes he had known in five weeks, then went +into the kitchen to frighten the cook into greater haste in +preparation of dinner. + +Barber shears, soap and clean linens restored Terry to his usual +nattiness, and he delighted the cook with the zest with which he +approached a good dinner after the weeks of the crude and +undiversified fare of the Hillmen. Halfway through dinner he beckoned +to Matak who stood with folded arms near the kitchen door as matter of +fact as though the routine of the household had never been disturbed. + +"Matak, when is the mail boat due?" + +"She come this morning, go noontime." + +And this was the twenty-fourth. Terry's keen disappointment was +apparent to the watchful Moro. + +"Master, you want go to Zamboanga?" he said. + +"Yes. I must go as soon as possible, Matak." + +"Take little boat Major come in. She still here." + +Terry jumped up from the dinner table and hurried to the dock and +found the speedboat tied up alongside. After a hurried conference with +Adams he raced back to the house, where the forehanded Matak was +already packing his bags. Terry added a steamer trunk which held his +civilian clothes, and as dusk fell master and man stepped aboard the +frail craft. Adams was ready. A sharp thrust of foot quickened the +engine into life, and they swung in a short circle. Straightening, +motors roaring, the stern sucked deep as they sped in swift flight +into the south. + +From his seat in the stern Terry watched the light fade out of the +western sky. The stars invaded the deserted field and dimly outlined +the rim of the mountains, a smooth line save where Apo reared high in +the west. For a moment the dark peak seemed lonely to him, but he knew +that the Major was happy on the pine clad height.... After Ohto's +passing, his own responsibility, the guidance of a child-tribe, would +be a heavy one ... a year of that, perhaps, and then--but first ... +his heart throbbed in vivid realization of all that awaited him in +Zamboanga. + +Adams hovered about his engines, happy in Terry's return and in this +opportunity to render him service. Matak stretched out on a cross +seat, unhappy in the deafening roar of the motors and the rhythmic +rise and fall of the speeding craft in the smooth landswells. + +As they rounded Sarangani in the middle of the calm moonlit night +Adams left the cockpit long enough to cover Terry with a thick +blanket, for he had succumbed to the monotonous chorus of the motors +and the lull of the bewitching night at sea. + +As the calm weather held, Adams steered straight for Zamboanga, +putting out to sea in the little motorboat. When Terry woke Basilan +was in sight, and at five o'clock they rushed down the tidal current +of the Straits and eased into the slip alongside the dock. + +Adams, grimy, worn with his long vigil, grinned contentedly under +Terry's warm thanks. Leaving Matak to secure a bullcart to transport +his luggage to the Major's house Terry hurried down the dock and +entered the Government Building. The clerks had left for the day but +at Terry's knock the Governor himself threw wide the door. + +Profound thankfulness lit Mason's intellectual face. Grasping Terry's +hand he led him into the office. + +"And the Major?" he questioned. + +"Well--and very happy, sir!" + +Keen-eyed, observant, in the moment of welcome the Governor had sensed +the new Terry, read the new contentment and confidence manifest in his +face and bearing. + +In a few minutes Terry had sketched his experiences to his eager +auditor. The Governor contented himself with a bare outline, though +his eyes glistened. The Hills opened! + +"Captain Terry," he said, "come in to-morrow and tell me the +details--I will give you the entire morning. To-morrow I will try to +tell you how happy I am in your safe return, and in the service you +have rendered this Government." + +He rose, beaming with the news it was his privilege to impart. + +"You had best run along now, Captain. You will find three +anxious--friends--awaiting you at the Major's house. They expected to +arrive to-morrow but caught the transport and docked yesterday. They +will be relieved to see you, for I had to tell them something of the +uncertainty we felt regarding your--whereabouts. Take my car, and run +along!" + +And Terry ran along! He flew down the steps and into the automobile +and in three minutes was leaping up the stairway into the Major's +house. + +Ellis, fatter, somehow absurd in tropic whites, met him at the +entrance. Meeting halfway around the world from where they had parted, +choking with the end of the dread suspense into which the Governor's +guarded references to Terry's disappearance had plunged him, Ellis' +big heart thumped in glad relief, but true to the traditions of his +lifetime environment he strove to repress it, to appear as casual as +though they had been in daily association. Pumping Terry's hand +spasmodically, he measured the ecstatic lad with extravagant care, +studied him from crown to heel. + +"Dick, how do you do it?" he asked. + +"Do what, Ellis?" Terry's voice was unsteady, too. + +"Keep so fit in this oven of a country--you're as hard as nails!" + +Terry's unsteady laugh rang through the big bungalow: "Go on, you +fakir--you're crying right now!" + +Ellis was. He turned away as Susan rushed out of an adjoining room. +Laughing, sobbing, she threw herself upon her brother, held him away +to study his appearance, hugged him tighter, pouring out a volume of +questions she offered him no opportunity to answer. + +Five minutes, and she recovered sufficient reason to catch the +significance of Ellis' vehement gestures toward the second of the row +of four bedrooms that opened off the sala. Understanding, she left +Terry and followed Ellis into their room, closing the door with a bang +intended as a signal to another who listened. + +Terry waited, idly stroking the long frond of an air plant that hung +in the wide window near where he stood. He wondered, vaguely, that he +should be so collected, almost unconcerned, in the face of what +awaited him. He saw the door open slowly, wider, then arrest as if the +hand on the knob had faltered, and in the instant his self-possession +deserted him. + +His heart skipped a beat, then accelerated into a heavy thumping that +seemed to fill the room with pulsing muffled roar. He moistened his +lips as the door moved again, opened wide. + +Deane stepped into the room, pale, her wide blue eyes fixed upon him. +Slender, rounded, white of arm and throat, she had fulfilled +gloriously all of the fair promise of her youth. The rich heritage of +womanhood had stamped the softly curved form and the sweetly pensive +face. Virginal, she was a mother of men. + +He faced her from the window, powerless to move, to speak, but there +was that in his eyes that made words unnecessary. Scarce breathing, +atremble, she saw the steady gray eyes blaze with a light no other had +ever seen, ever would see. + +To him she suddenly became unreal, and his mind reverted to another +hour when they had stood facing each other. Again she stood before +him in the dimlit hall, sobbing, and with the memory came a surging +realization of what he might have lost. Unconsciously his last words +to her, spoken that Christmas night, sprang brokenly to his lips as he +held out his arms: + +"Don't wait, Deane-girl, don't wait." + +With the sudden deepening of the wistful lines of his mouth she felt a +burning rush of tears, and at his words she crossed to him, starry +eyed, full red lips aquiver. + +There never was a merrier party of four than theirs that night. The +questions flew back and forth, answers clipped short by new and more +pressing queries. Ellis and Susan were full of the newcomers' interest +in the country, its peoples and customs. Deane, quieter, was +interested most in Terry's work, in Davao, in the story of the Hills. +Terry learned of the home friends. Father Jennings, Doctor Mather, Mr. +Hunter, a score of others, had sent messages to him. Deane had brought +special greetings from his friends on the Southside, and a garish +picture of little Richard Terry Ricorro. Half of her larger trunk was +filled with silver and linens which had poured in when news of the +purpose of her journey had sifted through Crampville. + +They were seated on the cool veranda at coffee when the Governor's car +drew up outside the gate, and the chauffeur entered with a note. + + Dear Captain Terry: + + This car is yours throughout the stay of your--will not the + word "family" soon properly cover all three of them? + + Please use it freely. I have another entirely suited for my + present needs. + + I am very happy to-night, happy in your safe return and in + the achievement you have wrought in the name of the + Government it is my unmerited privilege to head. And this + happiness will be the greater for knowing that you are + driving through this glorious evening by the side of her who + came so far to join her life with yours. + + MASON. + +After Terry had read the note aloud Deane added her pleas to his that +Susan and Ellis should share the car with them. But they would have +none of it. When Susan wavered, Ellis became emphatic. + +So the two rode through the tropic night alone, that night and during +the glorious evenings that followed for a week. They came to know +every village along the ribboned roads, each grove of tall palms, each +stretch of beach where smooth highways ran along the coast. She loved +the island empire. + +They talked as such do talk. The third night, as they rolled through +the moonlight down the San Ramon road, he found courage to broach the +one subject he had hesitated to mention. + +"The Governor wants me to stay a year," he faltered. "A year up in the +Hills." + +She had expected it, was ready. She looked full up at him, and in the +soft light her lovely face shone with a strange beauty that humbled +him. + +"Dick, 'and thy people shall be my people.'" + + * * * * * + +They planned their house in the Hills, bought and stored picturesque +odds and ends of furniture and fittings; brasses, embroideries, +carved teak: and he outlined their honeymoon, which was to be a +three-months' ramble through Japan, the magic lover's land. They +arranged no exact itinerary, just a wandering through Miajima, Kyoto, +Nikko,--a score of out of the way places. + +The mornings he spent with the enthusiastic Governor, planning, +discussing. Two tons of supplies went out to the Major the fourth day. + +"I put in an assortment of presents for him to give to the Hillmen," +the Governor told him. "And plenty of matches--you say they went wild +over those he packed up. They will be rich!" + +"Governor, the Hillmen are the richest people I have ever seen." + +The Governor was puzzled: "How?" + +"They have everything they want. Land for the clearing, a spear, +cotton growing wild on trees for such clothes as they wear, meat in +the forest, bamboo to cut for shelter against wind and rain, upland +rice springing up from barely scratched soils. No social striving, no +politics, no taxes. All their wants are satisfied--was Croesus as +rich?" + +"Then you do not believe in civilizing them--it means introducing new +wants--some of which they never will satisfy!" + +"Yes, I do, Governor. Civilization means doctors, less suffering, +longer life: schools and books: agriculture and better diet: commerce +and clothes: churches, and morality--and soap!" + +The day came when Terry and Deane drove down the San Ramon road where +the Governor had preceded them, with Ellis and Susan and a score of +the new friends they had made in Zamboanga. Wade had insisted that his +spacious bungalow be the scene of their wedding. + +Even before he had wrought the house into a fairy-land of palm and +cadena and hibiscus the great flowered sweeps of lawn and grove set by +the sea had been an ideal setting. Ellis, given his choice of +functions, had elected to officiate as best man, so the Governor was +happy in giving the bride away. Susan cried, as matrons of honor +always do, as she stood with them in the fret-work of shadows under +the palms which stirred gently in the off-sea breeze. + +None of those most concerned remembered many of the details of the +evening, excepting Matak, who met there a young Moro maid and found +her fair. + +They returned to Zamboanga under enchanting stars, and at nine o'clock +they saw Ellis and Susan leave, for they were returning home at once +through the Suez, taking steamer first for Borneo and Java. Their own +boat left an hour later for Manila, Hong Kong and Nagasaki. + +Bidding Ellis good-by, Terry woke from the dream in which he had moved +through the afternoon. + +"Ellis, do not sell the shoe store. We may be home in a year, and I'll +want to pitch into something." + +"But you'd never fool with that after--after all this over here!" + +Terry laughed happily: "You never can tell, Ellis. I am learning +lessons every day!" + +Later, Ellis sought to dry Susan's tears. "Dick, you're a fine lover! +After all these years of search for things for Deane you failed to +give her a wedding gift!" + +Terry flushed miserably, for it was true. But Deane thrilled the more +happily for the utter absorption in her that had expelled all other +things from his mind: she knew that Susan had prompted him to both +engagement and wedding rings. + +From the pier they watched Ellis and Susan at the rail till the +altering course of the brilliantly lighted steamer swept them from +sight. + +An hour later their own liner carried them northward through the dark +Straits. + +The deck was deserted, dark. They sat close, in long steamer chairs, +watching the mysterious coastline of Mindanao, the shadowy masses of +distant mountains that seemed less substance than opaque obstruction +of the warm, starry sky. Neither spoke. It was the hour of fullest +gratitude, of mutual dedication. The night about them was filled with +that humming heard only on a big ship plowing through a calm sea after +sundown, the drone of light winds through lofty rigging, the heavy +slipping of displaced water, the muffled roar of great engines +throbbing in the deep hold. + +Eight bells rang the midnight hour. Deane rose, whispering that she +had a few things to unpack, bidding him come in ten minutes. Leaning +over him, she smoothed his hair lightly with her two hands, curling +about her fingers the obstinate scalp lock that always would stand +forth from his crown. Reaching up, he took her cool hands and held +them tightly against his cheeks. Releasing her, he watched the +progress of the buoyant form down the long deck, his soul lit with the +flame that warms all mankind. + +The moon, in its last quarter, peered over the dark rim of the +mountains. When its lower tip cleared, he rose. + +When he joined her in their stateroom, her eyes filled happily as she +watched the fine, white face. + +The fox skin lay on the cabin floor before her berth. + + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + * * * * * + +[Transcriber's Notes: + +Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as +possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and other +inconsistencies. The transcriber made the following changes to the +text to correct obvious errors: + +1. p. 70, "Sear interrupted" changed to "Sears interrupted" +2. p. 81, "wierd-shaped" changed to "weird-shaped" +3. p. 96, "guaged" changed to "gauged" +4. p. 189, "move toward the fringe" changed to "moved toward the fringe" +5. p. 200, "spit into two factions" changed to "split into two factions" +6. p. 207, "beneath their eerie" changed to "beneath their aerie" +7. p. 219, "the swind swept crag" changed to "the wind swept crag" + +End of Transcriber's Notes] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Terry, by Charles Goff Thomson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TERRY *** + +***** This file should be named 20563-8.txt or 20563-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/5/6/20563/ + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Richard J. Shiffer +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of +public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital +Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/20563-8.zip b/20563-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..64933d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/20563-8.zip diff --git a/20563-h.zip b/20563-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d3bd84 --- /dev/null +++ b/20563-h.zip diff --git a/20563-h/20563-h.htm b/20563-h/20563-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a0b604a --- /dev/null +++ b/20563-h/20563-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9052 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Terry - A Tale of the Hill People, by Charles Goff Thomson. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + line-height: 1.4em; + text-align: justify;} + /* First Letter ----------------------------------------- */ + h3+p:first-letter, .dropcap {float: left; padding-right: 3px; font-size: 300%; + line-height: 83%; + padding-top: 0.1em;} + /* Author ----------------------------------------------- */ + p.author {text-align: right; + font-variant: small-caps; + margin-top: 0.0em; + margin-right: 10%;} + /* Letter ----------------------------------------------- */ + p.letterDate {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-bottom: -1.0em;} + /* Text Blocks ------------------------------------------ */ + blockquote {text-align: justify; font-size: 0.9em;} + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + pre {font-size: 0.9em;} + pre.note {font-size: 1.0em;} + .note {margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5%;} + div.trans-note {border-style: solid; + border-width: 1px; + margin: 3em 10%; + padding: 1em; + font-size: 0.9em; } + /* Headers ---------------------------------------------- */ + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + /* Horizontal Rules ------------------------------------- */ + hr {width: 65%; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; + margin-top: 2.0em; margin-bottom: 2.0em; + clear: both;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + hr.short {width: 20%;} + hr.tiny {width: 10%;} + hr.tight {margin-top: 1.0em; margin-bottom: 1.0em;} + /* General Formatting ---------------------------------- */ + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .fontnormal {font-variant: normal;} + .lowercase {text-transform: lowercase;} + span.pagenum {position: absolute; + right: 1%; + color: gray; background-color: inherit; + font-variant: normal; + font-style: normal; + font-size: 8pt;} + p.center {text-align: center;} + p.heading {text-align: center; font-weight: bold;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + /* Table of Contents ------------------------------------ */ + td.toc {text-align: right; vertical-align: top; font-size: 100%;} + td.toc2 {text-align: left; font-variant: small-caps; width: 80%; font-size: 100%;} + td.toc3 {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom; font-size: 100%;} + td, td > p {margin-top: 0.25em; + line-height: 1.1em; + font-size: 80%;} + /* Poems ------------------------------------------------ */ + .poem {margin-left:20%; margin-right:10%; + margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; + margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; + margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; + margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + /* Tables ----------------------------------------------- */ + /* Surround tables with <div class="center"> </div> */ + .center table {margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto; + text-align: left; + } + table { /* style all < table> elements */ + margin-top: 1em; /* space above the table */ + caption-side: top; /* or bottom! */ + empty-cells: show; /* usual default is hide */ + border-spacing: 2.0em 0.0em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; + } + /* Links ------------------------------------------------ */ + a:link {color: blue; background-color: inherit; text-decoration: none} + link {color: blue; background-color: inherit; text-decoration: none} + a:visited {color: blue; background-color: inherit; text-decoration: none} + a:hover {color: red; background-color: inherit} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Terry, by Charles Goff Thomson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Terry + A Tale of the Hill People + +Author: Charles Goff Thomson + +Release Date: February 11, 2007 [EBook #20563] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TERRY *** + + + + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Richard J. Shiffer +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of +public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital +Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="trans-note"> +<p class="heading">Transcriber's Note</p> +<p>Every effort has been made to replicate this text as +faithfully as possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and other +inconsistencies. Text that has been changed to correct an obvious error by +the publisher is noted at the <a href="#END">end</a> of this ebook.</p> +</div> + +<h1>TERRY</h1> + +<h2>A TALE OF THE HILL PEOPLE</h2> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h3>CHARLES GOFF THOMSON</h3> + + +<h4>Late Lieut.-Colonel, U. S. Army.<br /> +Formerly Assistant Director of Prisons<br /> +for Philippine Government</h4> + +<br /> +<br /> + +<h3>New York<br /> + +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> + +1921</h3> + +<h5><i>All rights reserved</i></h5> + +<br /> +<br /> + +<h3><span class="sc">Copyright,</span> 1921,<br /> +By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h3> + +<h5>Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1921</h5> + + +<hr /> + +<h5><span class="sc">dedicated to<br /> +MR. E. J. B.<br /> +who has given of his<br /> +counsel, spirit and substance<br /> +to needy young men</span></h5> + + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="AUTHORS_NOTE" id="AUTHORS_NOTE"></a>AUTHOR'S NOTE</h2> + + +<p>The poem "Casey" used in Chapter IX was written by the late Arthur W. +Ferguson, formerly Executive Secretary for the Philippine Government. +It has been edited and amplified but is substantially as written by +him. A man of unusual facility, Mr. Ferguson composed the verses under +circumstances somewhat similar to those set down herein, and with like +spontaneity.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>CONTENTS</h2> +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='right'><b>CHAPTER</b></td><td class="toc2"> </td><td align='right'><b>PAGE</b></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">I.</td> +<td class="toc2">The Fox</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_1" id="toc1">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">II.</td> +<td class="toc2">Terry Decides</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_18" id="toc18">18</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">III.</td> +<td class="toc2">Mindanao</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_33" id="toc33">33</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">IV.</td> +<td class="toc2">The Fanatic</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_52" id="toc52">52</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">V.</td> +<td class="toc2">New Friends, and an Enemy</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_66" id="toc66">66</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">VI.</td> +<td class="toc2">The Land of Hem</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_80" id="toc80">80</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">VII.</td> +<td class="toc2">The Python</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_98" id="toc98">98</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">VIII.</td> +<td class="toc2">The Stricken Village</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_111" id="toc111">111</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">IX.</td> +<td class="toc2">Malabanan Strikes</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_126" id="toc126">126</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">X.</td> +<td class="toc2">Malabanan</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_141" id="toc141">141</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">XI.</td> +<td class="toc2">Into the Forbidden Hills</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_157" id="toc157">157</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">XII.</td> +<td class="toc2">The Major Follows</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_175" id="toc175">175</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">XIII.</td> +<td class="toc2">The Hill People</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_198" id="toc198">198</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">XIV.</td> +<td class="toc2">Ahma</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_211" id="toc211">211</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">XV.</td> +<td class="toc2">The Sign</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_220" id="toc220">220</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">XVI.</td> +<td class="toc2">Civilization Dawns in the Hills</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_239" id="toc239">239</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">XVII.</td> +<td class="toc2">"Sus-Marie-Hosep!"</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_250" id="toc250">250</a></td></tr> + +<tr> +<td class="toc">XVIII.</td> +<td class="toc2">The Fox Skin</td> +<td class="toc3"><a href="#Page_262" id="toc262">262</a></td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h1><a name="TERRY" id="TERRY"></a>TERRY</h1> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE FOX</h3> + + +<p>The frosty silence of the snow-mantled hills was rent by the vicious +crack of a high-powered, small-calibered rifle. The hunter sprang from +the thicket in which he had lain concealed and crossed the gully to a +knoll where a black furry bundle had dropped to the snow after one +convulsive leap.</p> + +<p>Exultant, Terry bent down to examine the silky black coat.</p> + +<p>"Right through the ear. Well, Mister Fox, you're mine—though you did +lead me a merry chase for twelve days! You laughed at me till the snow +came—knew I wouldn't bring you out of your hole with formalin, that +it was a square game we played. But to-day everything broke against +you, boy,—sun and wind and snow. And perhaps hunger."</p> + +<p>The twinge of pain that stabs every true sportsman as he realizes that +he has extinguished a spark of life shadowed Terry's thin, sensitive +face. It was a face of singular appeal, dominated by a queer twist of +upper lip that stamped his mouth with a permanent wistfulness. Even in +the bracing cold of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> winter morning his skin was white, but the +clear pallor was belied by the swift energy with which he moved and +the eager sparkle of his dark gray eyes. He picked up the fluffy +bundle and stroked the sleek fur.</p> + +<p>"Hard luck, old boy! But now you'll never be hungry again, or cold. +And I haven't hunted you all this time just for the sake of the +sport." His face lighted. "You're going to be a proud little fox. If +foxes have souls—and I don't see why we should deny you what we lay +selfish claims to for ourselves—yours will rejoice in the purpose of +your end. Every night and every morning you—"</p> + +<p>He broke off as the distant pealing of church bells came to his ears, +carried faintly but clearly by the light wind that whispered over the +snowy stretches of rolling meadowlands. For a long time Terry stood +facing toward the invisible village, his face moody and inscrutable. +As the sound of the bells died away he shook off the spell with +conscious, humorous effort and picking up his rifle and the fox he +went into the thicket to secure and adjust his snowshoes.</p> + +<p>Ignoring paths and sleighroads he made his way toward the town. The +crisp pine-laden air charged his muscles with exuberant excess of the +fine energy of youth and he made his way swiftly across the sparkling +snow that blanketed the gentle landscape, through the thickets of +evergreens and across the tiny, ice-edged creeks that flowed in swift +escape from winter's frozen grip.</p> + +<p>Keen-eyed, he stopped a moment in study of a group of pheasants that +huddled in a clump of underbrush.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> They played possum till he passed +on. A rabbit, reared up in nervous-nosed inquiry, watched him +furtively as he approached the rock behind which it had vainly sought +concealment. Terry laughed at its ridiculous plight.</p> + +<p>"You'd better improve your strategy, you young scamp, or you'll wind +up in the pot of some one who hunts rabbits!"</p> + +<p>He watched its jumpy flight into a distant copse of young pines, then +went on swiftly. In an hour he paused at the top of a last steep +grade. Lake Champlain stretched her flat-frozen bosom to the north and +south of him. The more level timbered areas of the opposite shore were +broken here and there by clearings in which white farm houses and red +barns nestled like doll houses.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the slope directly beneath him a village lay primly +along the lake shore. It was a square-built town, its limits almost +rectangular, its breadth and width checkered into exact squares by +wide, straight streets. It was an old town: a score of its flat-roofed +structures had been built while the Mohawks still guarded the Western +Gate of the Long House, and many of the great, old-fashioned homes had +stood when Ethan Allen strutted through its streets.</p> + +<p>It was not a snug little town, there was no air of hospitality to +encourage strangers to tarry within its gates, but seemed to promise +"value received" for any who came, paid their way and attended +strictly to their own affairs.</p> + +<p>Thus Terry saw the town in which he had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> born and had spent all +of his twenty-six years except the four at Princeton. He tarried, his +eyes fixed upon the cemetery which limited the eastern edge of the +town, to which his father and mother had been carried when he was a +boy of eleven.</p> + +<p>He faced about in lingering appreciation of the blue-vaulted expanse, +then descended toward the village. Whipping off his snowshoes at the +border of the village he entered the main street, which ran straight +through town to the lake front. No one was in sight on the broad +thoroughfare and he found a measure of relief in its emptiness, for +though he did not adhere to the rigid New England doctrine that +governed his neighbors, he found no pleasure in wanton violation of +their stiff code. Realizing that with snowshoes, gun and fox he jarred +heavily upon the atmosphere of the quiet Sunday morning, he hurried +down the street.</p> + +<p>He encountered no one, but as he passed by the ice-incrusted watering +trough at the central square and approached the block made up by +Crampville's three churches, the big doors of his own church were +flung open and the congregation emerged. As the decorous crowd filed +out Terry hesitated a moment, then kept on his way.</p> + +<p>The progress of the lone figure along the opposite side of the street +was the topic of conversation at nearly every dinner table in +Crampville that Sunday. It became a sort of small-town epic, so that +they still tell how stern the elders looked, and how white Terry's +face against the background of black fur which he had thrown across +his shoulder in order to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> free his right hand that he might gravely +raise his crimson hunting cap in respectful salutation of families he +had known from childhood. And they still tell, too, how Deane Hunter, +flushed with mortification at her father's frigid refusal to recognize +Terry's greeting, checked the nudges and whisperings by calling out a +cheerful "Good Morning, Dick." Her courageous voice still rang in his +ears as he entered the iron-fenced yard that surrounded the home of +his fathers.</p> + +<p>Inside the great, high-ceilinged house Terry stood a while in somber +reflection, then shrugged his trim shoulders and passed through the +shadowy rooms out into the barn. In five minutes he had cleaned and +oiled his rifle, but an hour passed while he carefully removed the +pelt and tacked it taut upon a stretching board.</p> + +<p>He was in the library, reading, when his sister and brother-in-law +came downstairs in response to the dinner bell. Susan and her husband, +Ellis Crofts, had lived in the old mansion since their marriage two +years previously, rather against Ellis' desires. He had wished to set +up an establishment of his own, but had yielded to Susan's pleadings +and Terry's sincere letter from college asking him not to be +instrumental in closing up a house that had been lived in continuously +by the Terrys of four generations.</p> + +<p>They had been among the last to emerge from church, but had come out +in time to see Terry as he opened the gate, and had heard enough of +the murmured comment to understand its significance. It had been +difficult for them to control their emotions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> as they kept slow step +with the throng down the broad sidewalk. Susan, mortified but loyal to +the core, had set her face in defiant smile lest she burst into tears: +Ellis, devoted to Terry but tickled by the situation, had smothered +his snickers in protracted fits of coughing.</p> + +<p>Terry threw aside a handbook on the curing of pelts and rose at their +entrance, smiling:</p> + +<p>"Well, do you good folks think you are safe in sitting at the same +table with an unrepentant sinner?"</p> + +<p>Susan had been crying. "Oh, Dick! Why did you do it? How do you do +such things?"</p> + +<p>He waved his hand in humorous deprecation. "Easy. It's the simplest +thing I do. It isn't difficult if you have a knack for it."</p> + +<p>"But, Dick, it's no joke. I saw the three elders of our +church—Ballard, Remington and Van Slyke—talking about it, and they +were very bitter. And you know they can expel any church member."</p> + +<p>Terry made no answer save to put his arm around each and lead them +into the dining room. But Susan was not content.</p> + +<p>"Dick, I wish you would explain it to Ballard or Van Slyke. They are +influential men and both are very religious."</p> + +<p>Ellis took a hand: "Their religion is all right, so far as it +goes—but they mix it up with their dyspepsia too much to suit me!"</p> + +<p>As his wife turned rebuking eyes upon him he pursued doggedly: "Not +that their dyspepsia and religion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> are always mixed; they have their +dyspepsia seven days in the week!"</p> + +<p>She joined in their laughter over Ellis' exaggerated defense, then +turned again to her brother.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with that nasty thing you shot, Dick?"</p> + +<p>"Nasty?" broke in Ellis in quick alarm. "You didn't shoot a skunk, did +you?"</p> + +<p>She ignored her husband and persisted: "Tell me why you shot that fox, +Dick. You have been out hunting nearly every day for two weeks and +have shot nothing else, so I know you have a reason."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to help eat it!" Ellis broke in. "I've heard they are +stringy—and a bit smelly."</p> + +<p>"Ellis, will you stop being ridiculous? Dick, why have you hunted that +fox so long?"</p> + +<p>Ellis had seen that Terry was not to be pumped, that this was another +of his queer quests. He tried again to shunt Susan away.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it was a personal matter between him and the fox, Sue."</p> + +<p>She turned on him a look she endeavored to make disdainful, but only +succeeded in raising another laugh from both. But she was not to be +deterred. Her eyes lit with sudden inspiration.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet—I'll bet anything—" she began.</p> + +<p>"Susan Terry Crofts! Even Dick would not bet on Sunday!"</p> + +<p>"I will bet anything," she insisted, "that it is something for +Deane—for Christmas!"</p> + +<p>In the slight flush that rose in her brother's face<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> Susan learned +that she had hit the mark. But she was instantly sorry that she had +pressed the issue, as she had learned long before to respect what was +to her his queer reticence.</p> + +<p>Ellis hurried into the breach: "Wonder what Bruce will give Deane this +Christmas? He is about due to present her with something really worth +while—like a patent mop!"</p> + +<p>Even Terry laughed. The struggle for Deane's favor between Bruce +Ballard and Terry had been in progress nearly ten years and had become +one of the town's institutions. The first formal offerings tendered by +the two boys on the occasion of her graduation from high school +typified the contrasting characters of the rivals: Terry, idealistic, +impressionable, reserved, had sent her a beautiful copy of the "Love +Letters of a Musician," while Bruce, sincere, obvious and practical, +had given her a hat-pin.</p> + +<p>On her succeeding birthday Terry, after a six-hour climb, had won for +her a box of trailing arbutus from Mount Defiance's cool top; Bruce +had sent her candy. From his medical college at Baltimore Bruce had +sent, as succeeding Christmas gifts, an ivory toilet set, a thermos +bottle, a reading lamp and a chafing dish.</p> + +<p>Terry's offerings on those occasions had been a Japanese kimono +embroidered with her favorite flower—a wondrous thing secured by +correspondence with the American consul at Kobe: a pair of Siamese +kittens which he named Cat-Nip and Cat-Nap: a sandal-wood fan out of +India; and a little, triple-chinned, ebony god of Mirth, its impish +eyes rolled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> back in merriment, mouth wrinkled with utter joy of the +world.</p> + +<p>The rivalry had divided the town into two camps. The pro-Bruce +faction, composed largely of men folk, claimed for their protégé a +splendid common sense in selection of his gifts: but the women and +girls, who made up the other group, envied Deane not only the gifts +Terry gave her, but also—and more so—the rarefied romantic spirit of +the youth who conceived and offered them.</p> + +<p>Deane realized that both Bruce and Terry stayed on in the dull old +town principally to be near her. This was true of Bruce particularly, +as he was a young surgeon of such promise that he had twice been +invited into junior association with Albany's greatest specialist. She +had strongly urged him to embrace the increased opportunity for +service and profit which the city afforded.</p> + +<p>But Terry was only six months out of college, a six months spent in +futile effort to adjust himself to the theme of the village, to find +appropriate outlet for that urgent desire to be of use in the world +which dominated his character. As the Terrys were of those families +termed "comfortable" in Crampville, he felt no need of devoting +himself to adding to an already ample estate. At his sister's request, +he had undertaken to manage a shoe store that represented one of their +holdings but at the end of a couple of months had given it up—also in +accord with her wishes. Higgins, their old clerk, had come to her with +tearful warnings that Terry's unwillingness to refuse credit to any +one who came in with a tale of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> hard-luck was ruining the business: +and Terry had lost the custom of several good families by declining to +humor their crotchety unreasonableness.</p> + +<p>But Higgins did not know how they came to lose the trade of the Hunter +family. At the end of a trying day of insistent demand for smaller +shoes than feminine feet could accommodate, of viewing bunions and +flat arches and wry-jointed toes, he had written Deane:</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Deane Dear</span>:—</p> + +<p>I used to think that the true glory of Trilby rested in the +wondrous mesmeric voice—but after a month in the shoe +business I know better. Between perfect vocal cords and +perfect feet, give me the feet.</p> + +<p>The word "shoe" used to bring to my mind thoughts of +calfskin, kid, patent leather. But no more! Now I think +of—well, many things.</p> + +<p>I am glad that your family is not among those who favor this +establishment with its patronage. I am very happy in this, +as it is good to think that your dear shoes are but a part +of you, are incidental to your being, and not a consequence +of drear barter and "fitting."</p> + +<p>I will not be over to-night. But I will be thinking of you.</p> + +<p class="author">Dick.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>A bit puzzled, she had shown the note to her father. Irate, he had +issued a mandate that produced the effect Terry had asked. Mr. Hunter +was acutely sensitive about twin corns which had been a part of his +toes so long that he honestly thought them congenital.</p> + +<p>After quitting the store Terry had turned his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> attention to their farm +properties but, as a careful investigation covering three months had +demonstrated them to be in capable hands, he had returned them to the +full management of the old tenants at the end of the harvest. He had +then studied the possibilities of enlarging their only other business, +a small pulp plant, but after satisfying himself that the meager water +power was being fully utilized and that the location of the mill at +Crampville precluded competition with those more favorably located +that were operated with steam power, he had abandoned the project. For +a month he had been seeking outlet for his restless energy.</p> + +<p>Deane, anxiously watching his endeavor to fit himself into one of +Crampville's narrow grooves and vaguely understanding his unvoiced +craving for wider horizons, dreaded the break she knew would take him +away. Susan, studying him with the uneasy solicitude of an older +sister, saw in Deane an anchor which would hold him to the town. Ellis +had been less concerned, as he had recognized that Terry's intolerance +of the village was but the outcropping of a sane young spirit that +gauged the peaks and sought real service. He had been trying lately to +prepare his wife for Terry's departure to other fields, as he thought +it inevitable. It was a word to this effect that had precipitated the +tears with which she had greeted her brother before dinner.</p> + +<p>Ellis plagued Susan throughout the leisurely meal, Terry adding an +occasional word whenever the flow of affectionate badgering lagged. +Fanny, who had served them since they were children, bustled in and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +out, redfaced, wholesome, fruitlessly trying to press upon Terry an +excess of the over-ample dinner. It was a sort of unwritten law in +Crampville that the Sunday dinner should be sufficiently heavy to +drive the menfolk to a long digestive nap.</p> + +<p>Ellis lingered at the table after Terry had excused himself and gone +out into the barn again. Susan helped Fanny clear the old mahogany +table, then sank into a chair beside her abstracted husband.</p> + +<p>"Sue," he said finally, "Dick hasn't said anything lately about +accepting that position in the Philippines, has he?"</p> + +<p>A worried look crept into her smooth face: "No. I supposed he had +decided against it."</p> + +<p>He patted her hand consolingly: "Don't be too confident about his +staying home, Sue. He wants to see things—do things! There isn't much +in this town to hold one of his nature."</p> + +<p>"There's—Deane," she said, hopefully.</p> + +<p>"Sue, don't be so sure of that, either. You know that you and I hold +different theories about that. Don't bank too heavily on yours." He +drummed the polished table a moment before continuing: "He received +another telegram from Washington yesterday—I thought he might have +mentioned it to you."</p> + +<p>"No," she quavered.</p> + +<p>"Nor to me. Guess he doesn't want to worry you."</p> + +<p>She was close to tears again: "I wish he had never met that young +Bronner in college—he gave Dick all these crazy ideas about going to +those horrid islands where his brother is!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, Sue, he made me feel the same way—and I'm a fat married man! I +enjoyed his stories of his brother's experiences with the wild people +over there. It must be an interesting life."</p> + +<p>"You don't talk like that to Dick, do you?" she implored.</p> + +<p>"Of course not. But I think you've been too sure that he would stay on +here indefinitely—I think it will take very little to tip the scales +the other way."</p> + +<p>He yawned prodigiously, rousing Susan to an ire that stemmed the flow +of tears which had threatened to overflow her blue eyes. Then, content +with his tactics, he went upstairs for his traditional nap.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Later, Terry came into the big living room and stood in front of the +fireplace a long time, his lean face grave and thoughtful. Decision +made, he wrote a note of sincere apology to Doctor Mather, his pastor. +He also wrote Deane that he would not be over in the evening but would +see her during the week, and made the delivery of the notes an excuse +to get the faithful Fanny out into the crisp December afternoon.</p> + +<p>The light in the Terry library burned long after Crampville's other +lights had winked out. He had been picked up by Stevenson and carried +by that pathetic master into the far places of the earth.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The next morning he was in the barn, his gay mood revealed by the +running talk addressed to the pelt on which he worked.</p> + +<p>"Well, old boy, only four days to get you into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> shape for your +dedication, but the book says it can be done. So you might as well +soften up now—"he vigorously rubbed the dried bare side with some +oily preparation—"as later."</p> + +<p>"What a destiny, old chap! Surely no other fox ever born to lady-fox +can be as happy as you're going to be!" He rubbed industriously. +"You're not for me, you know. No, sir! I wouldn't bring you out of the +hills into this burg—where they kill ambition by preaching content +with your lot, where the hoarders of pennies are venerated and the +pluggers canonized—I wouldn't bring you here just for me. For I'm not +worthy of you. No, sir-ree! Don't you know I'm no good—didn't you see +that yesterday? Why, Old Samuel Terwilliger said I'm an atheist +because I quoted Ingersoll's graveside oration—said no Christian +would repeat anything that man ever said, even if his watch is a +bargain at a dollar!... Samuel likes bargains."</p> + +<p>Working rapidly, with no lost motions, he rambled on, congratulatory, +reproachful, whimsical. Having carried the curing to a point where a +twenty-four-hour time process was the next essential factor, he +carefully pegged the skin to the barn door.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>That evening Susan came running home excitedly, having learned that +one of the elders had asked that a meeting be called to consider +Dick's case, and that the young pastor had very promptly and very +emphatically vetoed the proceeding. It seemed that Bruce had heard of +the move and persuaded his father not to support it, after a stormy +scene in which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> he had threatened to resign his own membership if they +moved against Terry.</p> + +<p>Ellis looked long at Terry: "Nothing small about Bruce, Dick. Some +fellows, under the circumstances—all the circumstances—might have +let you have it to the hilt."</p> + +<p>Terry smiled gravely. "Good old Bruce," he said.</p> + +<p>He left the room, slowly, and sat alone in the library. It had struck +deep, that even one God-fearing but not God-loving old man should +think him unfit to sit in the church in which his father and mother +had been married, from which they had been carried side by side for +their long rest. It was midnight when he went up the broad staircase +to his room.</p> + +<p>The following afternoon he dropped in to see Father Jennings, the +gentle little priest who had been beloved by two generations of all +denominations—and those of none. Terry loved the old study, which in +forty years had taken on something of the priest's character. It was a +comfortable room; cheerful in its wide windows, warm with a bright +hearthfire, and well worn with long years of service.</p> + +<p>Terry had found friendship and counsel here since his boyhood, had +been one of the procession that passed through the door in search of +wisdom and cheer. All the gossip of the town came to the priest: he +knew of Terry's hunting trip and of the climax which had scandalized +the sterner factions of the community. He was of those who knew Terry +best, and entertained no misgivings about the state of his immortal +soul.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>They talked fitfully, as intimate friends do. The old man knew that it +was worry over the town's harsh reaction to the Sunday fox hunt that +had brought Terry to him. He broached the subject.</p> + +<p>"Dick, I have wanted to see you since Sunday morning. I had a question +to ask you nobody else could answer."</p> + +<p>As Terry turned to him with somber mien he concluded, his eyes +twinkling: "I wanted to know if it was the best fox ever!"</p> + +<p>And that was all, though Terry stayed to sup with him. Till nine +o'clock they sat before the fire, the priest in a worn rocker drawn up +close to the hearth: the single log burning glorified his fine old +face as he placidly rocked and pondered.</p> + +<p>He had spent the morning among his foreign parishioners, who lived in +the squalid section of the town, across the river. A frugal, +law-abiding lot, they furnished the brawn needed in the three pulp +factories and lived a life apart from the balance of the towns-people, +bitterly but voicelessly resenting the villagers' careless ostracism +of all who came under the easy classification of the term "wop." There +existed a tacit agreement among property owners that no house north of +the river should be sold or leased to a foreigner, and that no garlic +might taint the atmosphere their children breathed in school, they had +erected a small schoolhouse upon the southside. So, sequestered six +days in the week in a settlement that was entirely foreign, +communicating their thoughts in the tongues of the Mediterranean and +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> Balkans, the southsiders mingled with Americans only during the +brief hours of Sunday worship.</p> + +<p>In his morning visit Father Jennings had again met with several +evidences of Terry's curious influence over the foreigners. Terry +understood them instinctively, grasped their viewpoints and ideals, +and was the only layman on the northside in whom they confided, called +in to settle knotty problems and to partake of the hospitality they +lavished upon appropriate occasions of weddings, christenings and the +neverending procession of days of patron saints. Subtle, romantic, +circumscribed by alien environment, they recognized in him a kindred +spirit and opened their hearts wide to him. Terry, his ardent young +pastor—Dr. Mather—and Father Jennings were the only northsiders whom +they called friends. None of the three had been named on the town's +"Committee on Americanization." ...</p> + +<p>The priest roused from his revery and for a long time contemplated the +quiet, thoughtful lad who sat beside him. Gradually a deep concern +spread across his comfortably aged features, a presentiment of +impending loss shadowed his pleasant eyes. He reached out to lay his +hand on Terry's forearm.</p> + +<p>"Dick," he said, "there is plenty for you to do right here in +Crampville—what is this I hear about your going to the Philippines?"</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>TERRY DECIDES</h3> + + +<p>Christmas Eve, the large snowflakes drifted slowly down out of a +windless sky. The dusk was cheerful with the sound of sleigh bells +that announced the arrival or departure of last-hour shoppers.</p> + +<p>Terry, at his desk in the great living room, surveyed the finished +trophy happily. It was an unusually black and lustrous pelt. He buried +his face in the silky mat a moment, then drew out paper and pen, and +wrote:</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Deane-dear</span>:—</p> + +<p>Some three years ago a mother fox suffered that this one +might be born: denied herself food that he might satisfy his +urgent little appetite as he grew bigger and stronger. When +he was big enough he left her and forgot her—she may have +suffered then, too.</p> + +<p>He lived as foxes do. Things died that he might eat; +rabbits, pheasants, chickens, field-mice. He stalked all +things less strong and clever than himself. A cruel cycle, +but it is the law of the wild, something that you and I +cannot alter.</p> + +<p>He enjoyed the summers best, with their longer days, fuller +larders, sweet wood odors, long naps in the cool shadows of +the thicket. But winter came, with its hardships<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> and its +cold, a cold that little foxes feel the same as you and I. +But it was this cold that stimulated and silkened his fur, +made it this wondrous, prized thing.</p> + +<p>Then I came, and he ceased to be what he was—a hunter of +smaller, weaker things—and became what you see here: a +finer thing—a token. Your kind heart need find no cruelty +in a merciful shot that spelled no pain and that by stopping +him assured that gentler, weaker things will live on and on.</p> + +<p><i>And he</i> will be glad, too, as not <i>only</i> is he forever +freed from cold and hunger and stark fear, but his is to be +a tender office.</p> + +<p>Will you lay it at your bedside, that each night it may +cushion your last step at slumbertime, and each morning +soften the first contact between the vistas of dreamland and +the less yielding surfaces of life to which we wake.</p> + +<p>So even the things of the wild are made to serve. To +serve—is that not the law of man?</p> + +<p>My part in it? But little: none other than I will have +touched it till it reaches your dear hands. I shaped it, +wrought to preserve its beauties that it might give you +pleasure.</p> + +<p>To give pleasure—is that not the law of love?</p> + +<p>A very, very Merry Christmas!</p> + +<p class="author">Dick.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>He sent his gift, at about nine o'clock. In gay mood, he wandered +about the great house: entered the kitchen where Fanny was singeing +the Christmas turkey: returned to the living room to throw a fresh log +in the wide fireplace. His mood was too expansive for indoors. He +donned short coat and thick cap, but as he passed out of the gate a +scared little lad, a foreigner, rushed up breathlessly and begged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> him +to come—trouble was brewing on the southside.</p> + +<p>His questions elicited meager information. Excited, the lad relapsed +so often into his native tongue that Terry could make nothing of his +tale.</p> + +<p>Hand in hand they hurried through the village, crossed the dark bridge +and approached a ramshackle house from which a babble of voices rose +in strident argument. The excited chorus abated at Terry's sharp knock +and the door was thrown open to disclose the belligerent figure of +Tony Ricorro, the leader of the Italian colony. Recognizing the +reefered figure that smiled up at him through the falling flakes, +Tony's dark scowl faded as he reached out his powerful hands and with +a joyous shout fairly lifted Terry into the house.</p> + +<p>Terry laughed as the gaudily dressed occupants of the room crowded +around him, and greeted most of the score of swarthy men and women by +name. Tony masterfully stripped him of his overcoat and cap and placed +them in the kitchen from which emanated odors of strange things +cooking. The room was stifling with heat and with smells—beer, +garlic, tobacco, perfumes, kerosene.</p> + +<p>Tony charged in from the kitchen with a bottle of beer but Terry shook +his head. Tony was hospitably insistent, "What! No beer?"</p> + +<p>"No thanks, Tony."</p> + +<p>"What's matt'? Bad stomach?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," smiled Terry, "call it that."</p> + +<p>He plunged into the business in hand. "Tony, what's the trouble here +to-night?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tony's first word of explanation was instantly submerged beneath a +chorus of voices; the excited crowd surged around Terry, as voluble of +gesture as of tongue. Pandemonium descended.</p> + +<p>Terry finally silenced the din by standing on his chair and +pantomiming his desire to be heard. "Now, listen to me," he began, +after quiet was restored, "I'm going to ask you all to keep silent, +and to promise me that no one will speak except those I call by name." +They all promised—each one not once but in a series of lengthy +assurances which he had to raise his hand to cut short.</p> + +<p>"Now, Tony, you first. What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>Tony's face registered his utter disgust. "What'sa matt'? What'sa +matt'? Evra teeng 'sa matt'! Tommor' we christen our bab' and evra' +bod' want a name heem!" He glared at the restless circle which ringed +them.</p> + +<p>The odd wistful twist at the corner of Terry's mouth disappeared for a +moment in his slow smile; this was so like these people, who bore big +troubles stoically and reacted powerfully to inconsequentials.</p> + +<p>He called on several others. All were relatives of Tony or of his +wife; sisters, brothers, several "in-laws," Tony's father, two uncles. +Each had his or her name for the child, and sound reasons for the +choice.</p> + +<p>"Tony, where is Felice?" he asked, noting that Tony's wife was not in +the crowded dining room.</p> + +<p>Tony took him into a dimly lighted room, where his wife lay in bed; +the guiltless cause of all this dissension, obviously inured to +clamor, was asleep in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> her arm. She smiled up at Terry as he sat down +on the edge of the bed and took her hand.</p> + +<p>Tony stood looking down at Felice and their first-born, his heart in +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Tony, what does Felice wish to name your son?" Terry asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>Receiving no answer, he looked up at Tony and read in the agonized +contrition of Tony's dark face that she had not yet been consulted. +Tears glistened in the forgiving eyes Felice turned on Tony, and as he +flung himself down at the side of the bed and buried his face in her +pillow, Terry tiptoed out of the room and softly closed the door.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes Tony flung the door open and strode into the room, +unashamed of the tears that shone on his rough cheeks.</p> + +<p>"You all a go to hell-a with your a-names! Felice, she name-a our boy +and to-morrow we go Padre Jenneeng. She a name heem"—he paused with +true Latin sense of the value of suspense—"She a name heem—Reechar' +Terree—Ricorro!"</p> + +<p>A moment of hesitation, of assimilation, and then a hubbub of +delighted acceptance and acclaim. Terry stayed but a few minutes, +realizing that much as they liked him, there would be more spontaneity +at the fiesta if there were none but their own people at the table.</p> + +<p>He went in and thanked Felice gravely for the honor she had conferred +upon him, wished for them all a merry Christmas, and passed out amid a +medley of thanks and benedictions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>The snowfall had ceased. He crossed to the North Side and hastened up +Main Street, and though it lacked but an hour of midnight, he found +Judd's jewelry store still open. He went in and found young Judd about +to close up.</p> + +<p>Judd, hollow eyed with the fatigue of the long day, studied his old +friend's beaming face: "Hello, Sir Galahad!" he said.</p> + +<p>Terry eyed him scornfully: "Hello, Rut!" He drew himself up proudly. +"Behold in me a new dignity—I am now a god-father!"</p> + +<p>Having in mind the parents' love for the elaborate, he gayly selected +an ornate silver cup for the infant.</p> + +<p>"I'll engrave it for you after the holidays," Judd offered.</p> + +<p>"Good old boy, Judd! The initials will be R—T—R."</p> + +<p>He buttoned his coat and went to the door: Judd was musing over the +monogram: "Richard—Terry—what's the 'R' stand for, Dick?"</p> + +<p>Terry grinned as he called back through the open door.</p> + +<p>"Why,—Romance, of course!"</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>He tramped far out the north road through the new fallen snow, his +whole being glowing. The stars sparkled through the clear cold air in +myriad chorus of the message of hope that one in the East had heralded +to a sadder world on another Christmas eve. The snow-flung star beams +illuminated the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> peaceful countryside: there was no moon, no light +save the great glow of the heavens, no shadows under gaunt oaks or +huddled evergreens.</p> + +<p>He was in harmony with the night. He followed the sleigh-rutted +highway for several miles, then swung back to town along a +woodcutter's trail that edged the lakeshore, winding through the new +growths of pine and balsam whose night-black branches were outlined by +the white fall.</p> + +<p>He loved the open: there was no loneliness here.... Magic-wrought, +Deane's phantom figure kept apace, matched step with step along the +shore trail through the hushed woods, across the white sheen of open +spaces. Ever, when summoned thus, she came to share the hours and the +places that he loved best.</p> + +<p>Love surged hot through his veins: love of friends, of living, of +youth, love of a woman ... probably his gift lay at her bedside now, +as she slept....</p> + +<p>Unconsciously he slowed his pace and lifted his fine, pale face +upward: his low, clear baritone flooded the broken woods, carried far +out across the silent frozen lake, unechoed; it was vibrant with the +very spirit of yuletide—love of man and woman.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love, to share again those winged scented days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those starry skies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see once more your joyous face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your tender eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just to know that years so fair might come again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awhile:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! To thrill again to your dear voice—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your smile!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>It was long past midnight when he reached town, his mood chilling +indefinably at sight of its dark houses.</p> + +<p>"You're a queer old town," he muttered. "You go to bed on this night +of nights—yes, and you batten your windows tight against this +glorious air—and all of the other glorious things."</p> + +<p>Passing the suspicious village constable, he penetrated even his +callous heart with the most gladsome Christmas greeting he had heard +in many a year.</p> + +<p>Home, he stirred the dying logs into flame and sank into a deep +cushioned chair drawn up before the glowing embers. The long day had +taken no toll of his lithe frame: sleepless, he sat long in pleasant +retrospection of the day, which had brought him opportunities to +contribute to the sum of peace on earth and to give pleasure to those +whom he loved.</p> + +<p>His gift to Deane had approached even his exacting criterion of what +was fit for her. He envied the skin its rapturous reception, the +sparkle of bright eyes its beauty would invoke. It was characteristic +that his vision did not carry him to the daily contact of pink toes he +had assigned as its function. And it was characteristic of him, too, +that he did not think of the gifts which had come for him.</p> + +<p>He would see the elders, he mused, and apologize for what must have +seemed to them a deliberate flaunting of their standards ... he had +been a little careless, lately ... he would remedy that ... it was a +good town—his failure to settle down had been a fault ... he would +find something to do, worth doing—and do it.... Deane's friendship<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +might ripen into something mellower, and then....</p> + +<p>He reached into an inner pocket and withdrew a telegram, bending +nearer the fireplace to read it.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="letterDate">Washington, D. C.</p> + +<p>Richard Terry, Crampville, Vermont.</p> + +<p>Wire will you accept commission second lieutenant Philippine +Constabulary period immediate decision essential period if +you accept wire date you will be able to sail from San +Francisco</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="fontnormal">Wilson Insular Bureau</span></p></blockquote> + +<p>The glow from the fire which ruddied his face revealed the struggle of +the minute before decision came. With an expression curiously mingled +of renunciation and relief he tossed the paper among the glowing +embers. He rose as the sheet took fire and in the brief flash of light +which marked the consumption of the telegram he saw a familiar-looking +package on the library table in the shadow cast by his big chair. He +carried it to the now fainter glow of the hearth and saw that it was +addressed to him in Deane's trim hand. He opened it eagerly, to see +what form her remembrance had taken.</p> + +<p>It was the fox-skin, returned. Vague, trouble-eyed, he read the +inclosed note.</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Dick</span>:—</p> + +<p>I am sending you back your present. Father insists, because +you secured it on Sunday.</p> + +<p>It hurts me, Dick, dreadfully, but you know how he feels +about such things.</p> + +<p>It is the loveliest present I ever received—and it makes me +want to cry, sometimes, when I think of your doing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> such +things for me and thinking about me as you do. I <i>AM</i> +crying, now, Dick.</p> + +<p>Though I can not have it, your present will always be +mine—I can never forget that you were good enough to wish +me to have it.</p> + +<p>And will you accept my very best wishes that your Christmas +may be a very merry one.</p> + +<p class="author">Deane.</p></blockquote> + +<p>He sank back into the chair again, sickened.... "That your Christmas +may be a very merry one."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Susan, first down in the morning, raised the curtains to the brilliant +Christmas morning, and turned to find him sitting in the chilled room +before the dead fire. Shocked by the haggard face, she hurried to him.</p> + +<p>"Dick, are you sick?" As she sank by the side of his chair her hand +brushed against the rich fur which lay across his knees, and she +understood. She placed a pitying arm about his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I feared it, Dick—I feared it! You know how he is—her father. I'll +never speak to him again as long as—" She burst into tears.</p> + +<p>Gently he withdrew her arm and took her hand in his.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Sue, it's—all—right."</p> + +<p>Through her tears she read the pain that lurked in his eyes, the agony +that betrayed the patient smile. She sobbed convulsively, heartsick in +her helplessness to ease this young brother to whom she had been half +mother.</p> + +<p>"That's what you always say—about everything:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> 'it will be all +right.' When you were a boy it was always the same—'it's all right.'"</p> + +<p>He comforted her with quiet words till the storm abated. Then, "I'm +going to miss you, Sue-sister," he said.</p> + +<p>She stood up, comprehension dawning in her wide eyes.</p> + +<p>"You're going away!"</p> + +<p>He nodded gravely.</p> + +<p>Slowly, fearfully, she asked, "When?"</p> + +<p>"To-night."</p> + +<p>"Way off to—those—Philippines?"</p> + +<p>He nodded, then unable to bear longer the hurt in her tremulous face, +he sought refuge in the ridiculous; he struck an attitude.</p> + +<p>"I'm going in quest of adventure—riches—romance! I'm going to sail +the Spanish Main—seek golden doubloons—maids in distress—the +Fountain of Youth! I'm going to cross strange waters—travel +untraveled forest ... see unseen peoples ... know unknown hills...."</p> + +<p>An odd light flickered in his eyes, as if he half believed what he +spoke. Fanny appeared at the kitchen door and with her cheery call of +"Merry Christmas," the light faded from his face as he turned in quick +response.</p> + +<p>He turned to his sister in mock reproof: "Shure and it's ye that has +not yet wished me aven a dacent top o' the marnin', let alone the +gratin's of the sason! Shame on ye—ye heartless, thoughtless, +loveless—"</p> + +<p>He broke off, laughing at her bewilderment: she never could keep apace +with his quick moods. Noting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> a tear still glistening he took her +cheeks between his hands and kissed the wet eyes, then asked her to +get word to Deane that he would be over some time during the evening.</p> + +<p>Surprised and pleased that he should ask her to participate in his +affair with Deane, she hurried to the desk set in a deep bay window.</p> + +<p>Ellis, sleepy-eyed, came down with his hearty greetings of the day, +and was surprised to find Sue bent earnestly over her writing.</p> + +<p>"Say," he said, "can't you wait till after breakfast to thank +everybody for their presents? What's the rush? Say, Dick, did you hear +yet what Bruce gave to the lady of his heart? No? Well, he out-Bruced +Bruce this time! He gave her a patented, electric foot-warmer!"</p> + +<p>Terry smiled his appreciation of Ellis' chuckling loyalty and escaped +upstairs to his room. Ellis wandered aimlessly over to the Christmas +table and noted the number of unopened packages marked with Terry's +name, then called up from the foot of the stairs:</p> + +<p>"Come right down here, you ungrateful Non-christian, and see what +Santa Claus brought you! You got more than any of us and—"</p> + +<p>He desisted as he suddenly became aware of his wife's frantic signals, +and reading the grievous trouble in her twitching face, he went to +her.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Susan, entering Terry's room at dusk, found him standing at the window +staring out into the evening, watching the shadows paint out one by +one the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> landmarks he had known from boyhood. Two large leather bags, +packed but still open, stood at the side of the bed. The two frames +which had held the pictures of his father and mother lay upon the +table, empty, beside letters addressed to Father Jennings, Doctor +Mather, and Tony Ricorro.</p> + +<p>He did not hear her but continued at the window, his relaxed shoulders +giving an unwonted aspect of frailty to his body. She tiptoed out of +the room, crept back again to look through brimming eyes at the lonely +figure silhouetted against the darkening window, then stumbled into +her own room and closed the door.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Terry returned to Deane in the sitting room after bidding her father +and mother a courteously friendly farewell. Mr. Hunter, vaguely +disturbed, had followed his wife upstairs reluctantly; he was not +quite confident that his decision regarding the fox skin had been +justified, and would have been glad had Terry given him opportunity to +discuss it. In a moment his voice sounded down to them as he defended +himself against his irate spouse.</p> + +<p>"I don't care what you say, Marthy, he's got to settle down and—"</p> + +<p>Then their door closed.</p> + +<p>For a long time Deane and Terry stood voiceless, each leaden with a +dull misery. The shock of his announcement had paled her and she +stared hopelessly at him out of wide blue eyes, her full red lips +aquiver at the hurt she read in the gray eyes and the queer wistful +mouth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>She broke the pulsing silence: "I never understand you, Dick,—quite. +Is it because of the fox skin?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head uncertainly, barely conscious of her words in a last +rapt gaze at her, vaguely aware that this was the picture of her that +he would carry in his mind through the years to come. Rounded, long of +lines, apart from him she looked as tall as he, though there was a two +inch discrepancy; the wide eyes and generous, curved mouth indicated +her infinite capacity for affection. The shadow of a dimple flickered +high on her left cheek: the quickened beat of heart pulsed in the +white column of her throat.</p> + +<p>"Is it because you hate the town, Dick?" she asked tremulously.</p> + +<p>Again he shook his head slowly: "No, Deane, it is not that. The town +is all right—it is not that."</p> + +<p>He paused, brooding, then went on: "Last night I did not +sleep—much—thinking about it. It's all my fault.... I do not fit. So +I am going away, going to try to find my own place, somehow."</p> + +<p>Tortured by his patient smile, she followed him out into the dim hall, +half blinded by her burning tears. She sobbed unrestrainedly as he +slipped into his overcoat.</p> + +<p>He came to her, his hand outstretched, his voice husky.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Deane-girl," he said.</p> + +<p>Taking his hand she stepped close to him, misty-eyed, atremble.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Di—Oh, Dick! Don't go! Don't go way over to those awful +Islands!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>He steadied her with an arm about the shaking shoulders. She leaned +full against him and in the soft contact his pulses leaped. He fought +to resist the temptation to take advantage of her mood, knew that for +the moment she was his if he but pressed his claim.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she looked up at him, glorious in her grief and surrender.</p> + +<p>"Shall I—do you want me to—to—wait?"</p> + +<p>For a few moments it seemed that he had not heard the low voice.</p> + +<p>Then: "Don't wait, Deane-girl,—don't wait."</p> + +<p>Then the arm was gone from about her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"But I will, Dick, I will!" she sobbed, but as the words fell from her +lips she heard the door close and felt the gust of cold air that +chilled the hall.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>She was still awake when the midnight accommodation whistled its +impending arrival from the north. She listened, tense, as the train +came to a stop in the town. A brief halt, then it sounded its +underway, the pistons accelerated their chugging beat and it passed +out of Crampville into the south.</p> + +<p>She stood, still-breathed, dry-eyed, till the last grinding rumble +died out of the frosty night, then as a full realization of her loss +came home, she dropped to the side of the bed and buried her face in +the coverlid.</p> + +<p>The floor where she knelt seemed cold and hard.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>MINDANAO</h3> + + +<p>The old <i>Francesca</i>, directed by a nervous and none too competent +Tagalog captain, maneuvered in the six-mile tidal current which swept +west through the Straits making Zamboanga a nightmare to all the +native skippers who called at that port. Crab-like, she crawled +obliquely to within a few hundred feet of the low-lying town, then the +screw churned up a furious wake as the anxious Tagalog on the bridge +swung her back into the Straits to circle in a new attempt. Carried by +the tidal rush the old tub circled in a great ellipse.</p> + +<p>Alone at the rail on the dingy promenade Terry stood enjoying his +first glimpse of Mindanao. Seven months in Luzon had brought him +countless tales of this uncertain southland—tales of pirates, of +insolent, murderous datos defiant behind their cotta fortresses, of +kris and barong wielded by fanatic Moros gone amok; of pearls as large +as robins' eggs, of nuggets tossed as playthings by naked children of +the forests, of mysterious tribes who inhabited the fastnesses of +inaccessible hills.</p> + +<p>He wore the service uniform of the Constabulary, the field uniform of +khaki blouse and breeches, tan shoes and leggings, and stiff-brimmed +cavalry Stetson. The smart uniform set his erect figure off trimly +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> added to the impression of alertness conveyed by his steady gray +eyes.</p> + +<p>In the two wide swings back into midstream that ensued before the +steamer approached near enough land to get ropes to the little brown +stevedores who waited on the dock, Terry had ample opportunity for +study of the tropic panorama. The sea was dotted with Moro vintas, +swiftest of all Malayan sailing craft; tide and wind borne, some +scurried at tremendous pace toward the fishing grounds of the Sulu +Sea, others tacked painfully into the Celebes. A Government launch, +its starred and striped flag brilliant against the green sea in the +morning light, left its jetty and headed south toward the dim +coastline of Basilan. A score of gulls, that had followed the ship +down from Sorsogon, fattening on the waste thrown overboard after each +meal, circled around the ship aimlessly, uttering unpleasant cries. +The young sun mounted swiftly in a cloudless sky, hot on the trail of +the cool morning breezes, white in its threat of blistering punishment +of all who dared its shafts.</p> + +<p>The hawser snubbed, the drum of the rusty winch rattled and banged on +worn bearings to a tune of escaping steam, laboriously warping the +smelly hull alongside the dock. Terry watched the sturdy little Moros +spring into agile life as the vessel slowly neared the pier, then he +turned to look over the town which was built flush with the edge of +the narrow beach, extending each way from the shore end of the pier. +The galvanized-iron roofs of the taller buildings—church, convent, +club, a few more pretentious dwellings,—were visible above the low +foliage and between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> the tall acacias and firetrees which jagged the +skyline. A heavily laden breeze identified unmistakably several long +buildings as copra warehouses.</p> + +<p>It seemed a busy town, as towns near the equator go. In the street +into which the pier opened a thin stream of pedestrians passed by in +brief review before the watcher: Moros, a few Filipinos, a Chino +staggering under a heavy balanced pinga, two white-clad Americans, +while several rickshaws, Moro drawn, jogged by with patrons concealed +under raised tops. Then a big foreign touring car turned the corner +and drew up in front of the government building to deposit a middle +aged American, immaculate in fresh pongee.</p> + +<p>Terry, observing him idly from where he stood at the rail, saw a +larger, uniformed American swing the corner with vigorous stride and +after saluting the older man accompany him respectfully to the +entrance to the big building, where they stood a moment in +conversation. Terry's interest quickened as he recognized the big +American as a member of his own service; he watched him approach the +ship through the crowd of half-nude sweating Moros who now swarmed the +dock.</p> + +<p>Terry, hastening down the ship's ladder, met the tall officer as he +reached the end of the pier.</p> + +<p>He was a loosely knit, raw-boned man of about thirty-five, of serious +but pleasant mien. As he stepped to meet Terry, Terry saw that he wore +the leaves of a Major.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant Terry?" he asked, responding with friendly informality to +Terry's stiff salute.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"I'm Bronner. Mighty glad to know you. We've been looking for you ever +since receiving a copy of the Headquarters Bulletin ordering you down +here. Have a good trip?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Major, the <i>Francesca</i> is no Empress liner but we got along all +right. I am very glad to know you, Major. Your brother and I were +roommates at college—he used to tell me of your experiences with the +head hunters—"</p> + +<p>"Huh!" the Major interrupted. "Guess he stretched things some. Fine +boy. Wants to come over when he graduates this June, but his mother +says one son over here is enough. And she's right."</p> + +<p>Terry liked the big irregular features. In the steady eyes he saw +something that forced instant credence to the stories told of the +Major's resourceful bravery under difficult situations, a bravery +which had made the name of Bronner famous in a service made up of +intrepid men.</p> + +<p>"Welcome to Moroland," the Major continued. "I hope you like it down +here—I think you will. If I didn't I wouldn't have requested your +transfer. You are assigned to the most interesting of the Moro +provinces,—Davao. You go there to command a Macabebe company. Your +baggage still aboard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Forget the 'sir'! Leave your stuff on board—the <i>Francesca</i> sails at +daylight to-morrow, and you go on to Davao with her. Had breakfast? I +thought not. Pack a bag with what you will need for a day ashore—put +on a white uniform for to-night. My<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> orderly will take you to my +quarters where you can get a shower and some breakfast. Join me at the +Service Club for lunch."</p> + +<p>Throughout the abrupt discourse Terry had endured the frank appraisal +of the shrewd black eyes. He experienced a pleasant reaction when the +Major again extended his broad hand.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant, I said a minute ago that I was glad to know you. Let me +repeat it—I mean it. Adios, till lunch time."</p> + +<p>He pushed his way good-naturedly through the throng of Moros who were +handling the bales and boxes unloaded from the roach-ridden hull and +walked off the pier, disappearing into the government building. Terry +boarded the vessel, warmed by the friendliness of his new chief, and +by the time the orderly arrived had thrown a few things into his bag +and was ready to go ashore.</p> + +<p>He followed the soldier down the main street, a dusty thoroughfare +lined with the usual assortment of structures which adorn Philippine +provincial towns: adobe, tile-roofed business houses honeycombed with +little box-like shops in which the Chinese merchants displayed their +wares: square wooden houses set high on stone understructures: scores +of bamboo shacks stilted on crooked timbers, unkempt, wry, powdered +with the dust risen since the last rains.</p> + +<p>Though it was not yet nine o'clock, they sought the shaded side of the +street with the habit which becomes instinctive near the equator, and +welcomed the coolness of Bronner's low house.</p> + +<p>The cook and the houseboy looked after him with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> the unobtrusive +perfection of service found only in the East. A good breakfast cheered +a stomach outraged by the greasy mess perpetrated upon native boats in +the name of Spanish cookery, and a cool shower bath eliminated the +stench of stale copra which had clung to his nostrils if not to his +clothing. An hour before noon he left the house and strolled about the +scorching town, regardless of where he went so long as he found shaded +walks on which to tread.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Most Philippine towns are coast towns, and most coast towns are flat +and uninteresting unless you are interested in their peoples—and you +are not interested in them unless they are of a different tribe than +you have known previously.</p> + +<p>Take a couple of dusty—or muddy—streets, unroll them along some +freshwater stream just above a line of palmed beach: place an immense, +deserted-looking softstone church in an unkept square flanked with a +few straggled acacias and a big convent in which a native priest lives +in weary and squalid detachment from a world he knows nothing about: +line the two streets with an assortment of rusty bamboo and +mixed-material houses which impress one as never having been built but +as always having stood there: sprinkle a few naked, pot-bellied, brown +children staring at each other in pathetic, Malay ignorance of the +manner and spirit of play: set a few brown manikins in the open +windows—women who let life fly by in dull wonder of what it is all +about: add a few carabaos lying in neck-deep content in mudwallows, +and a score of emaciated curs which snarl at each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> other in habitual, +gnawing hunger and which greet their masters with terrified whines: +spread over it all a pall of still moist heat and a sky arched by a +molten sun. Contrive all this, then imbue every object—human and +creature, animate and inanimate,—with an air of hopelessness, of the +futility of effort, and you will have a typical Malay town as the +Americans found them.</p> + +<p>But not so where the American has set his impious foot—impious of the +dogma that you can not change the East, nor hurry it. He enjoyed the +finesse of the phrase, quoted it, then jumped in to hustle the East. +The old timers,—Spaniards and Britishers for the greater +part—shrugged at each other over their heavy tiffins and nine o'clock +dinners; these crazy Americans would soon learn! But the crazy, +enthusiastic Americans, engineers, health officers, executives, school +teachers, Constabulary, labored on in the glory of service: eradicated +cholera, built roads and bridges, brought six hundred thousand +children into school that two score tribes might find a common tongue, +fought the devastating cattle plagues, wiped out brigandage and +piracy, brought order and first semblance of prosperity to eight +millions of people.</p> + +<p>Young men did it all. The old-timers suddenly found that they were +living in new times, in clean, healthful towns: found that business +was increasing by leaps and bounds as the natives fell in behind the +young Americans with a quicker stride than Orientals had ever known. +And they are the reasons—those few thousands of smooth-faced +Americans who laughingly threw themselves at the wall of immemorial<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +sloth and apathy—why Kipling's phrase is seldom quoted east of India, +and now not often there. And they are the reasons, those carefully +chosen, confident young men of whom too many are buried over there, +that we have so much of which to be proud in what has been done in our +name for a backward, unfortunate people.</p> + +<p>But we, you and I, do not know very much about it all: it is so far +away and we are so busy with our affairs, our politics, our—</p> + +<p>... You know ... we are just too busy to bother about those Tagalogs +and headhunters who live over there where Dewey licked Cervera, and +Aguinaldo was king of the Igorotes or something, and Pershing rose +from a captain to a general: why, I heard one of those Filipinos make +a speech about independence and he was so smart and bright—he had +been sent to our congress or something and was handsome and polished +and....</p> + +<p>Yes, he doubtless was. That is why he was sent: but he bore about the +same mental relation to the race he is supposed to represent as a +Supreme Court Justice bears to a Georgia cracker!</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Terry had thoroughly assimilated the atmosphere of the Luzon provinces +in his seven months in the Islands, so he found a real pleasure in +studying a Moro town which had been under the energizing influence of +the Army for nearly two decades. He wandered slowly through the native +quarter, cutting down clean cross streets lined with neat nipa huts +inclosed behind latticed bamboo fences, enjoying the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> novelty of a +community different from any he had known. Every detail of the well +kept streets testified to the strictness of the standards set by the +white men who governed the town. The few Moros whom he encountered on +the noon-deserted streets passed him silently and with averted eyes, +wary, secretive, entirely alien. One looked him square in the eye, +leaving him uncomfortable with the antipathy unveiled, the cold, +everlasting contempt of the Mohammedan for the unbeliever whom he does +not know.</p> + +<p>He walked with lids half-closed against the white glare and the heat +waves which danced above the tortured roads and roofs: by the hour set +for his luncheon engagement he had covered the town thoroughly, +including the beautiful post which had been turned over to Scouts when +the Army at last finished its tedious Moro project.</p> + +<p>He found the Major waiting him at the Club, a large, single-story +building set in a grove of tall palms at the edge of the beach and +cooled by the breezes from the Straits. He followed him out on the +wide veranda built over the water's edge, passing through a friendly, +incurious group of young Americans who sat at little round tables in +groups of three and four. Major Bronner responded to a dozen greetings +as they crossed to a table set for two at the edge of the veranda. In +a moment the deft tableboy had their service under way.</p> + +<p>"Well," began the Major, "you will have a busy time of it during the +rest of your stay—I wish it were to be longer. This afternoon I want +you to come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> to the office with me—there are lots of things to talk +over about your work down there. The Governor will see you about five +o'clock. How do you like Zamboanga?"</p> + +<p>"It's clean, and interesting, Major."</p> + +<p>"'Clean and interesting!' That is a boost! Though we can't take much +credit for the 'interesting'—the Moros furnish that!"</p> + +<p>The white-smocked servants moved noiselessly about the cool veranda, +serving the score of Americans with that perfect impersonal care found +nowhere except among Oriental servitors: the subdued clatter of silver +against dish and the tinkle of iced drinks was often drowned in +outbursts of merriment from one or other of the little tables. Most of +the Americans were mere youths, though two were evidently in their +forties. Bronner noted Terry's study of a group of three who sat +nearby, heavily tanned men evidently not quite at home in the club.</p> + +<p>"Davao planters," he explained. "Hemp planters: you will know them. +Three good men: they're going down on your boat."</p> + +<p>Lunch finished, coffee and cigars furnished excuse for the white-clad +crowd to linger on the darkened porch: scraps of shop talk reached +Terry's ears, a jargon of strangely twisted English and Spanish words. +Bridges, appropriations, rinderpest, lack of labor, artesian wells, +cholera—such was their table talk, as such was their life.</p> + +<p>The breeze freshened, gently stirring the potted plants which flanked +each row of tables; the hot stillness of the noon gave way to the +sibilant murmur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> of the cocoanut palms whose bases were lapped by the +quickening ripples. The breaking of the withering calm was the signal +for departure to office and field. The veranda cleared rapidly. +Bronner, watching the three planters, interrupted their departure.</p> + +<p>"Lindsey—just a minute."</p> + +<p>He took Terry to their table and introduced him.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant Terry, gentlemen: Mr. Lindsey, Mr. Cochran, Mr. Casey. +Lieutenant Terry goes to Davao to-morrow as Senior Inspector. You will +be able to help him, till he learns his way down there—and later he +may be able to help you."</p> + +<p>Terry shook hands with the three in turn. All were out-doors men, +bronzed, diffident with the social shyness of men who live their lives +alone or among none but alien people. Lindsey and Cochran were +square-set, serious young men: Casey, older, but of eager, +enthusiastic mien.</p> + +<p>The Major discussed them as he and Terry left the club.</p> + +<p>"They're three of the best planters in the Gulf. You'll have no +trouble with them. But you may with some others, those who have a +fancied grievance against the government just now. I had better start +at the beginning.</p> + +<p>"You know the best hemp in the world grows down there—soil, climate, +rainfall all combine wonderfully to make it the one ideal spot for +hemp production. In another twenty years it will probably rate as the +richest single agricultural area on the globe—that's why those little +fellows over there"—he indicated a pair of Japanese passing on the +opposite side of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> street—"are piling into Davao so fast these +days.</p> + +<p>"The world needs hemp—and areas where it can be cultivated are rare. +Three years ago a little stampede occurred into Davao; the pioneers +are a mixed lot—about sixty Americans, a few Britishers, a scattering +of Moros and Filipinos and nearly two hundred Japs. The Japs are +quiet—you will seldom see them: they stay on their places and 'saw +wood'; they're backed by some syndicate—probably their government. +But the others are lone handers, working on their own 'shoe-strings' +or financed by the contributions of optimistic shareholders in Manila.</p> + +<p>"They are good men, these planters. You will like them. They went into +the fastnesses of Mindanao, braved the wild tribes, cleared their +land, planted hemp, working largely with their own hands—and in a +climate where they say the white man shall labor only with his head. +You will hear all about their troubles and difficulties—you won't +hear much else down there but hemp—hemp and wild tribes! Hemp and +wildmen—that's Davao!</p> + +<p>"About their grievance. They cleared and planted rapidly and have +raised fabulous crops, but when it came time to strip the hemp for +market they found that the wildmen upon whom they had banked as +potential labor would not work. A few came and stayed, but most of +them quit after earning a few pesos. So the hemp rotted in the field. +Desperate, facing ruin, some of the planters went after labor too +strongly, frightened and browbeat the Bogobos into working. The scheme +worked, so a condition approximating<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> peonage was developed upon +several of the plantations.</p> + +<p>"We ordered it stopped. Those planters are very sore, looking for +trouble. That's the story—and the condition you must face, and +overcome. You've got to hold down that class of planter, but at the +same time encourage the Bogobos to work for them. It means prosperity +for the planters, and money and comfort for the Bogobos—and it will +keep them out of the hills: we want the Bogobos near the coast, under +civilizing influences. They are newly won to us and apt to fade away +into the foothills on the least provocation."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Crossing the acacia-shaded lawns of the beautiful plaza he stopped in +front of the artistic concrete bandstand, jerking a big thumb at the +dedication inscribed upon the ivy-covered façade.</p> + +<p>"Pershing Plaza," he read aloud. "He was the last military Governor, +you remember. I knew him: a good man. No genius—just a good man, hard +worker: has two traits that will carry him a long way if he gets the +chance—common sense and industry. Wants to know everything about +everything, and never quits working. Surrounds himself with workers: +gives his men their jobs and doesn't bother them while they do +them—just wants results.</p> + +<p>"'Make good or make way!' Some slogan! Pershing, Wood, Scott, +Carpenter,—America has sent some of her best into Mindanao. I'm glad +to be here—aren't you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>At the sudden question Terry turned to him.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "I hope to be—useful."</p> + +<p>They had reached the entrance to the government building: the Major +paused at the foot of the mahogany staircase to conclude earnestly: +"It is fashionable just now in Manila to decry this effort to +institute civil government among the Moros—but I know you are not of +the type to be influenced. Governor Mason is making good: you will see +that after you have been here a month. He is a wonder, +Terry,—probably the only man who could handle this situation with a +few Constabulary. Study, patience, and square-dealing, backed by +occasional use of troops, prepared the Moros for this experiment, and +Governor Mason is carrying it forward almost alone—opposing the +backward tendencies of Sululand with little else save personality, +inspiration and a wonderful knowledge of Malay character.</p> + +<p>"You're going to like it down here," he wound up suddenly, confused by +his own unaccustomed oratory.</p> + +<p>Mounting the polished stairway, they passed down the tall concrete +corridors and into the Major's office. He drew up a chair for Terry +and seated himself behind a desk whose orderly array of accessories +bespoke his methodical bachelor habits. The walls were covered with +large-scale maps of Moroland showing location of various tribes, +scattered settlements and district boundaries, with great blank areas +eloquent of the unknown character of unexplored fastnesses. The +crosses which indicated the distribution of Constabulary forces +controlled from his office dotted every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> sizable island: pins bearing +the names of government agents showed into what remote regions our +trail-breakers had penetrated. One purple-flagged pin showed a +veterinarian warring against a cattle plague in Jolo: a blue flag +thrust into one of the blank spaces of Mindanao indicated the +whereabouts of a fearless ethnologist from the Field Museum: a red +sticker bore the name of an engineer who had been out of touch for six +weeks, running the line of a new trail across the great bulk of +Mindanao. The map was symbolic of the Constabulary, whose duty it is +to know all, to protect all.</p> + +<p>Leaving Terry to his study of the maps the Major spent an unapologetic +fifteen minutes clearing the mass of papers that had accumulated +during the lunch hour, then turned to him. For an hour he outlined the +salient problems which would confront the young officer in his new +assignment. He was all business, curt, concise, definite. He touched +upon the ordinary service activities of drill, patrol, secret service, +supply and report, then took up those phases which required delicate +and original handling.</p> + +<p>"Now, Lieutenant, we did not pull you down here to handle an ordinary +job—you know it means something these days to get a Mindanao +assignment."</p> + +<p>Terry did know it. Only men who had demonstrated unusual ability in +their line had been sent to Moroland under Governor Mason. As the +months went by the northern provinces were being stripped of their +crack men for assignment to the southern experiment, so that detail +there had become a mark of distinction. He had been as surprised as +pleased<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> at his summons from Sorsogon, a poor, colorless province +where he had spent seven months in uneventful, and as he thought, +inconspicuous service.</p> + +<p>The Major detected something of what was passing in his mind: "You +were selected because of your understanding of native character, your +sympathy with them: that, and your faculty for learning dialects. By +the way, what is your method of studying these languages—your record +of three dialects in half a year is remarkable."</p> + +<p>"There was little else to do—and I like to study them."</p> + +<p>The Major noted the slight flush of embarrassment. He reached into a +drawer and pulled out a card, scanning it carefully before continuing:</p> + +<p>"Your qualification card indicates that you are an unusual pistol +shot: it reads 'Pistol rating—two-handed expert, extraordinary in +accuracy and rapidity.'"</p> + +<p>Disregarding Terry's increased embarrassment he pushed the question: +"How did you acquire such skill?"</p> + +<p>"Well, as I had to carry a sidearm, I thought to make it useful—it is +not much of an ornament. After I became really interested it cost me +about fifty dollars a month for ammunition."</p> + +<p>"Well, things happen down here! Some day you may be glad you spent the +money—your skill may come in handy!"</p> + +<p>"On—men?" It was the one aspect of the service from which Terry +shrank.</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope not. It seldom comes to that. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> a number of hard +characters have been concentrating recently in the Davao Gulf, a batch +of discharged convicts who served long terms for brigandage and +murder. We have been watching them, but nothing significant transpired +till last month."</p> + +<p>The muscles of his heavy jaw tightened as he went on: "You have heard +of Malabanan, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"The ladrone leader?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he. He was released from Bilibid prison last summer and came +through here last month. One of our operatives uncovered him on the +boat—traveling as an ordinary steerage passenger. He went to Davao, +and I fear it means trouble. I think he gathered that tough crew +together to operate in Davao, thinking to test us out now that the +Army is gone."</p> + +<p>His face was grim as he snapped: "Terry, watch him! And if he makes a +single move—smash him! Make no false starts, do not arrest him unless +you are sure that your evidence will convict in the courts. Give him +plenty of rope—but if he breaks loose ... smash him hard! +Understand?"</p> + +<p>Terry nodded quietly, but something in his competent face contented +his chief. He repeated his warning against premature action:</p> + +<p>"Be sure you can get him before you move—he is slippery and has +friends in high native circles. We do not want to be turned down in +the courts at this stage of the game, and it may be he intends to play +the game square—plant hemp, for instance. But if he wants a +showdown—smash him good and plenty!"</p> + +<p>He briefly reviewed the substance of his instructions: "You can see +that your work is going to call<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> for a good deal of tact and patience: +patience with the angry planters, with the wild people. Everybody is +scared and jumpy down there just now, and we want to restore their +confidence."</p> + +<p>Terry had listened attentively throughout the interview, speaking only +to answer questions. He broke the silence which followed:</p> + +<p>"Major, I have heard a great deal about the Hill People of Davao: will +I be near them?"</p> + +<p>The Major eyed him queerly for a moment before answering: "About +thirty miles as the bird flies," he said, "but about a million to all +intents and purposes! No living man has been among them—those who +have tried have left their bones rotting in the dark forest. They kill +all who attempt to reach them, expeditions in force find nothing as +the Hillmen simply fade away before their approach.</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to attempt to go among them—in fact I expressly +forbid it, as it means certain death. But some day we hope to open the +Hills up, to win among them: it is one of the Governor's cherished +ambitions. So learn what you can about them from the old Bogobos who +live in the foothills, and report any interesting traditions you may +hear. Pieced together, the tales may make a helpful contribution—may +help solve the riddle of how to get to them peaceably. Not that you or +I are likely to live long enough to see it done—they are too +confounded wild, too inaccessible behind their jungled hills."</p> + +<p>He shrugged his broad shoulders in eloquent dismissal of a vain hope, +and rose: "I want you to meet the Governor. I'll see if we can get to +him yet."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>He strode out of the office, returning immediately to inform Terry +that the Governor was closeted with the two Moro datos whom he had +fetched to the capitol by launch.</p> + +<p>"They haven't promised to be good boys yet," he chuckled, "but they +will before he finishes with them! His Secretary says that he expects +you and me to go down to San Ramon with him to-night at seven sharp, +to dine with Wade, the prison superintendent. You're in luck, +Lieutenant. It will be an evening you won't soon forget."</p> + +<p>So it proved to be.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE FANATIC</h3> + + +<p>Terry, refreshed by a shower and change to formal white uniform, was +listening to the Major's grave summing up of the Moro problem when the +arrival of the governor's car took them both down to join him. As +Governor Mason alighted to meet him Terry felt the magnetism of the +man who had been selected to attempt the difficult Moro venture. +Governor Mason had grown up in the island service, had been identified +with the inner government circle since the days of the First +Commission, and had been retained and promoted by each succeeding +administration. Far-sighted, patient, wary, suave, he was the most +consummate master of Island policy developed under the American +regime. A press bitterly hostile to the idea of giving the Moros civil +government had attested to his proven capacity by moderating its +criticism following the announcement that he would head the new +government.</p> + +<p>Terry was welcomed with a graceful simplicity that made him feel at +home. Immediately he fell under the spell of this man whose spirit +enthused the small band of whites who were redeeming a people from +their prehistoric lethargy. He was fit to lead; the sweep of line from +temple through jaw bespoke an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> uncompromising force of character, but +was gentled by the deep cleft of chin: something in the poise of head +gave him the manner best described as aristocratic but it was toned +down by the mischievous gleam which flickered, often without obvious +reason, in the thoughtful eyes.</p> + +<p>The big car bore them swiftly through the cooling evening over smooth +coral roads which were laid down like ribbons on the green tableland +over which they sped: they shot under groves of tall cocoanut trees, +past clumps of feathery bamboo which flanked the highway. Dusk was +near when they entered the reservation and drew up in front of a +red-roofed bungalow set on a great lawn facing the prison inclosure.</p> + +<p>Superintendent Wade rose from the wide veranda and came down to meet +them, a tall, smooth-faced man of young middle-age, evidently on most +intimate terms with the Governor and the Major. While expressing his +pleasure in being privileged to entertain Terry, he bent upon him the +searching look of appraisal which is instinctive in the Orient, where +the masses are controlled by the white man's prestige, a prestige +which may suffer through attitude or actions of each newcomer.</p> + +<p>Terry halted a moment at the curb, rapt in appreciation of the spot. +Acres of lawn, splashed with flaming red and yellow canna beds, swept +from roadway to edge of sea: wide shell roads, smooth as planks, wound +in great curves into the dark groves of cocoanut palms which +surrounded the inclosure on three sides and extended back a thousand +acres in symmetrical<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> rows of towering trunks which created endless +shaded glades: turning slowly, he saw the immaculately policed prison +inclosure showing through the steel grillwork which an intelligent +mind had substituted for grim and stuffy prison walls. It seemed less +prison than sanctuary.</p> + +<p>The development of the prison farm, the development of its Moro +inmates, was Wade's life. "Lieutenant, I am glad you like it," he said +simply. "It is home to me."</p> + +<p>The Governor had strolled out on the lawn for a lingering look around +him. Returning to the veranda he eyed Wade and Bronner quizzically.</p> + +<p>"Each of you has too fine an establishment for the barren needs of +bachelors. I wish you had more confidence in the blissful state of +matrimony!"</p> + +<p>Wade shook his head decisively. The Major snorted.</p> + +<p>"Huh! No petticoats for mine!"</p> + +<p>A stolid Moro servant padded up with a tray bearing four cocktails: in +a moment carried them kitchen-ward, rejected.</p> + +<p>The Governor laughed: "Not one in four! An unusual showing, Wade." He +turned to Terry: "You never drink?"</p> + +<p>"I—I don't care for it, Governor."</p> + +<p>A pause, and he added, flushing slightly: "That was not quite honest, +sir. I have never tried it."</p> + +<p>As they moved to the table the Governor exchanged a glance of +delighted approval with the Major over the nice amend.</p> + +<p>The steady breeze off the Straits that blew across<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> the veranda where +they sat at dinner roused the sea into a little confusion of beach +sounds. They ate leisurely, talking of the strange things of Sululand, +talked as men do who find surpassing interest in the little and the +big things of their work; and Terry listened as they deliberately drew +him within their circle.</p> + +<p>It was a dinner deserving of the time given up to it. Following a +vegetable soup the Moro bore in a great lapu-lapu, fresh from the +Straits: if you have never tasted the flaky substance of a +lapu-lapu,—don't! For once you do, you will be forever impatient of +the quality of all other fish. Roast duck followed, with sweet corn, +camotes, tart roselle sauce, a papaya salad, an ice, and pili nuts; +all perfectly prepared, and flawlessly served by the expressionless +Moro boy who moved noiselessly about the snowy table.</p> + +<p>"I want to brag a little, Governor," Wade said as he and the Major +lighted cigars over a second cup of black coffee. "Everything we ate +to-night—with the exception of such things as salt and pepper and +cream,—was the product of this farm. You will be able to report at +the end of the year that we are eighty per cent self-supporting."</p> + +<p>Pressed by the Governor, Wade explained to Terry his system of +handling the six hundred Moro inmates. He stopped midway in a graphic +account of three prisoners whom he had sent out with instructions to +fetch in a runaway convict dead or alive.</p> + +<p>"I didn't ask you down here to talk you to death!" he apologized.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But what happened?" insisted the Major. "Did the three skip too?"</p> + +<p>Wade glared at him. "Skip? My trusties? I guess not! They came in last +night after dark, after being gone in the interior for three weeks, +carrying a gunnysack. I was sitting out here, so they came right up +and without a word emptied the sack on the veranda floor. They had +stayed out till they got him—his head rolled out of the sack and +landed right under where you're sitting, Major. Then the three walked +over to the prison gate and reported in."</p> + +<p>A moment later the Major moved his chair.</p> + +<p>The Governor had been quietly studying Terry. "How did the Philippines +first impress you?" he asked. "About as you anticipated?"</p> + +<p>Terry hesitated, then responded to the authority of the kindly eyes: +"No, sir. I had read enough typical stories of the tropics to absorb +an atmosphere, but I did not find it. You know what I mean, sir: all +that stuff about <i>dulce far niente</i>, manana, gin-soaked +beach-combers,—that sort of thing. But I don't find it, sir. I find a +spirit of hustle, of getting things done despite obstacles, a spirit +which the natives seem to be absorbing,—though rather slowly."</p> + +<p>The Governor was frankly interested: "You doubtless have formed some +opinion regarding the Filipinos—their fitness for independence?"</p> + +<p>Terry felt the three pairs of eyes drilling him as he answered: "It +seems to me, sir, that—disregarding such baffling obstacles to +independence as their absolute defenselessness as a nation, the +profound ignorance of the masses, lack of a common tongue, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> all +that,—I think that in view of the fact that under our guidance they +have advanced further than under four hundred years of Spanish rule, +it would be kinder if we waited decision until we see what a second or +third generation of English-speaking natives are like."</p> + +<p>He reflected a moment, serious, then added: "In short, sir, I think +that it would be a great injustice to them to mistake our own driving +force for their capacity."</p> + +<p>"Sus-marie-hosep!" exclaimed the delighted Major, who had fidgeted +while his protégé was undergoing the Governor's test, "Don't mistake +our driving force for—I'd like to hear the native demagogues argue on +that thesis!"</p> + +<p>The Governor surveyed Terry with added interest, but was +non-committal.</p> + +<p>They fell silent, listening to the dark sea, in its gentlest mood, +caressing the beach: the wind flowed past them steadily, like a soft +current, stirring the long fronds into purring contact. A sharp +challenge from an alert native sentry rang clear, followed by the +crunching sound of a heavy iron gate opening and closing with grating +finality. The hourly call was sounded by a guard, who, unseen by them, +paced the main entrance to the inclosure: "All's Well." It sounded six +times from invisible lips. Terry pondered its ironic message to those +who heard it from within those steel and concrete dormitories: "All's +Well," sounding to those who had crime on their souls, and had left, +somewhere, mothers, wives, children ... sweethearts.... It oppressed +him heavily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then a roar of laughter rose from within the prison, the free and +joyous expression of mirth from hundreds of throats, from men who +found life good. Terry looked up to see Wade observing him closely, +smiling.</p> + +<p>"They're having 'movies' to-night," he explained. "They're crazy about +Charlie Chaplin."</p> + +<p>Then Terry understood better the spirit of the institution, and of its +inmates. This was no dungeon, it was a school where men were being +taught how to live at peace with their kind, how to work,—and how to +laugh.</p> + +<p>Vaguely conscious of being the object of intent scrutiny by some one +stationed behind his chair, Terry turned, restlessly, to face the Moro +servant, who stood just within the circle of light cast by the lamp, +his smoldering eyes fixed upon him. Unabashed, inscrutable, he studied +the white youth unblinkingly: then, as if decision had ripened, he +entered the full glare of the lamp and faced Wade, his master.</p> + +<p>Astounded at the extraordinary intrusion, Wade questioned him curtly +in his dialect. The Moro responded at length, in a listless monotone +that contrasted strangely with the determined gleam of his black eyes. +Surprise flooded Wade's face, heightened to astonishment as the Moro +continued; and as he concluded his story with an expressive gesture +toward Terry, Wade struck his knee.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be everlastingly consumed!" he prophesied. He searched +Terry's thin face intently, then turned to the Governor.</p> + +<p>"This boy, Matak," he pointed to the passive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> Moro, "adopted me over a +year ago: just dropped in and said he was going to work for me. I +didn't need him—you know I draw on the trusties for servants—but he +would not accept refusal: he just stayed on. He is a fine servant, but +a queer fish—I let him stay for both reasons! I've tried to persuade +him to go to different friends who needed servants, but he looked them +over and then refused. I don't know where he came from, don't know +anything about his history: I only know that he is a very faithful +boy, with some grievance against life that leaves him morose and +silent.</p> + +<p>"Now he coolly announces," he paused to again study Terry's +countenance queerly, "now he says he is going with Lieutenant Terry!"</p> + +<p>The small but powerfully built Moro calmly returned the stare of the +four white men, his face passionless, his inert hands and thick bare +feet curiously expressive of a primitiveness beyond conception. +Evidently he had decided upon a course of action from which nothing +would sway him, and he waited until the white men should adjust +themselves to the fact. The Governor's face expressed his sympathy +with the Moro as he turned to Wade and asked permission to address his +servant.</p> + +<p>"Matak, why do you wish to go with Lieutenant Terry?"</p> + +<p>The Moro shifted his brooding eyes to Terry, then back to the Governor +before he answered.</p> + +<p>"Because I like him, sir."</p> + +<p>"Why do you like him?"</p> + +<p>"Because he understands, sir."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Understands what, Matak?"</p> + +<p>"He understands us, sir,—the unfortunate. Because he is lonely too, +sir."</p> + +<p>The Governor had been trying all evening to solve the strange appeal +of Terry's countenance: the primitive Moro had understood. Gazing at +the white youth, the Governor saw that Matak was right. The tone in +which he addressed Terry was gentle, fatherly.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant, do you need a boy?"</p> + +<p>The Major's quick sympathy had been enlisted: "Lieutenant, you will +run your own mess down there," he interposed.</p> + +<p>Meeting the black eyes turned upon him in confident expectation, Terry +found their dull appeal irresistible.</p> + +<p>"He may come with me," he said. "I will look after him."</p> + +<p>Matak stood motionless a moment, then stepped to Wade and slipping to +one knee pressed Wade's hand against his lips in token of gratitude +and farewell. Then he rose and went silently into the house.</p> + +<p>The Governor, the Major and Wade were busy men with large +responsibilities: Terry found ample material for reverie in +contemplation of what was opening up before him. The incident served +to stifle further conversation. The four settled comfortably into the +long rattan chairs drawn up near the railing, each content in the mere +association with friends and occupied with his own problems.</p> + +<p>The quiet intimacy of the group was jarred by the sudden jangle of a +telephone. Wade jumped up with a muttered excuse but before he had +crossed to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> open door it rang again, insistent. They heard his +murmured "hello," then an incredulous "What!" in higher pitch. He +appeared at the door, pale, excited.</p> + +<p>"Governor Mason," he exclaimed, "Captain Hornbecker reports that there +is a <i>juramentado</i> loose between here and Zamboanga!"</p> + +<p>At the startling intelligence the Governor's feet rapped to the floor: +the Major jumped to his feet, astounded.</p> + +<p>"Why," he protested, "who ever heard of a Moro running amuck at this +time of night!"</p> + +<p>"Hornbecker insists that it is true, nevertheless. He has sent a +detachment out after him but was worried because the Governor and you +might have started before he got word for you to wait."</p> + +<p>The Governor shook his head decidedly: "We will not wait. Please call +my car."</p> + +<p>The Major's protest against the Executive's endangering himself died +in his throat at a quiet look from the Governor. They hurried to the +car, Wade delaying them a few seconds while he secured three heavy +pistols, handing one to each of the two officers. They found Matak +waiting in the seat beside the driver.</p> + +<p>A sharp order from the Governor and the chauffeur shot them out of the +reservation and into the provincial road. The big Renault roared +through the night, the kilometer posts flitting by like specters, the +headlights tunneling the cocoanut groves through which the white +highway spun.</p> + +<p>The four Americans crouched low in the tonneau to escape the blinding +rush of air that eddied over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> the windshield. They shot over a bridge, +tore through a dark village, rounded a corner at top speed and took +the grassed shoulder of the road as the little chauffeur twisted the +wheel to avoid a bewildered carabao which blocked the middle of the +highway. A sickening skid, and they were back in the road. At the end +of a roaring flight down a long straightaway they rounded a sharp +curve into a short stretch terminating in a nipa village which seemed +to leap toward the rushing car. As the powerful lights swung upon the +widened road which formed the village street the alert driver saw that +which brought foot and hand to the brakes in a frantic effort that +brought the car to a grinding, sliding stop and tumbled the Americans +to the floor of the tonneau.</p> + +<p>Crouched in the middle of the road a Moro, gone amuck, darted fanatic +glances in search of the Christians he had vowed to die killing, his +eyes bloodshot with the self-inflicted torture of the juramentado +rite. He balanced a great two-handed kris that gleamed like a row of +stars where the headlight struck its polished corrugations.</p> + +<p>A Filipino, unaware of the terrific figure behind him, had sauntered +from the shadows into the path of light, curious, half-blinded by the +glare he faced. As he reached the middle of the road the most +terrifying of all cries issued from one of the dark windows.</p> + +<p>"<i>Juramentado!! Juramentado!!!</i>"</p> + +<p>At the cry his face turned sickly green in the glare. He wheeled, +uncertain, then ran blindly toward the frenzied Moro who was creeping +toward him.</p> + +<p>It happened with the swiftness of nightmare. By<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> the time the +Americans had picked themselves up from the bottom of the car the +Filipino's frantic burst had brought him within twenty feet of the +black-clad fanatic. His flying feet lagged to a halt, he stood stock +still in sheer horror till the Moro bounded toward him, then turned +back toward the car—too late!</p> + +<p>The four white men leaped out just as the Filipino turned back toward +them with fear-leaden feet, and in the moment of discovery of the +Mohammedan who leaped in his shadow, they saw the glistening blade +rise above the Filipino's head and fall in a terrific sweep that +seemed to end at the point where neck and shoulder join. Before their +eyes the body opened like a book.</p> + +<p>It seemed inconceivable, but the crazed face of the Moro showed +through the cleft which widened as the victim fell.</p> + +<p>"God!" sobbed the Governor.</p> + +<p>Sighting the group of Americans the blood-crazed Mohammedan bounded +toward them triumphantly, swinging a kris which no longer gleamed. +Bronner had reached the road first and stood in front. His heavy +pistol roared six times and at the last shot the leaping Moro spun +clear around and fell heavily.</p> + +<p>He staggered to his feet and with the same implacable hatred gleaming +in his eyes came on toward them, still grasping the awful weapon. +Then, as Matak stepped out to meet him, armed only with a hub wrench, +Terry's right hand extended in swift gesture as he shot once. The Moro +collapsed to the road, limply, like a wet stocking off a line.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>His race was run, but he had taken one unbeliever with him to justify +his claim to a choice seat in the Mohammedan heavens. There is a +certain impressive earnestness about the followers of Mohammed.</p> + +<p>The dismayed villagers poured out into the street, venting their +frenzied fear by kicking the dead fanatic. Captain Hornbecker, a +round-faced officer, arrived with his soldiers. As the chauffeur had +emerged from his hiding place in the brush, the Governor turned +matters over to the captain and the four drove on into Zamboanga. All +had been sickened by the horror of the swift tragedy.</p> + +<p>They stopped at Bronner's house to get Terry's bag, then drove him to +the wharf. The <i>Francesca</i> was about to cast off, her dim-lit decks +loud with the confusion of misdirected effort.</p> + +<p>Terry sent Matak aboard, thanked the three warmly for their kindness +to him; after a moment of hesitation he added something that was +drowned in a sudden rumble of winch. Two waiting sailors threw off the +hawser in response to a shouted signal from the bridge. The three +Americans remained at the end of the pier till after Terry had mounted +to the deck and the boat swung out into the current.</p> + +<p>As they walked along the dark pier the Governor asked: "What was that +he was saying? I did not quite catch it."</p> + +<p>"I heard only part of it," answered Bronner. "It was something about +how queer religions may be—he was thinking of the juramentado."</p> + +<p>Wade spoke: "Did you notice how hard the affair got him? Of course it +was a pretty stiff sight."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It wasn't that," said the Major, slowly. "From something he said to +me to-day I know that he has had a horror of some day being compelled +to kill a man—and the day came. I'm very sorry I didn't stop that +Moro devil—yet I hit him three times."</p> + +<p>The Governor walked the short distance to his residence. Wade dropped +the Major at his bungalow, and sat oblivious to the Major's +outstretched hand, musing.</p> + +<p>"Major," he said finally, "Matak's selecting Terry for his +master—queer, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Huh!" growled the Major, "I would go with him myself—anywhere!"</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>NEW FRIENDS, AND AN ENEMY</h3> + + +<p>The <i>Francesca</i>, no slower and no dirtier than most of the other +steamers which ply the inter-island trade routes, had waddled all +night and all day through the Celebes Sea. Afternoon found her +laboring over a becalmed mirror of sea, past rippled reefs, through +clusters of little coral islands from which straggle-plumed palms +raised wry fronds in anemic defiance of inhospitable, root resisting +soil. Mindanao lay to the west and south, vast, mysterious.</p> + +<p>Terry stood alone at the forward end of the small promenade deck +watching the third class passengers, who, though still manifesting the +uneasiness of the Malay landsman at sea, were comfortably sprawled +upon the dirty hatch covers enjoying the seven-mile breeze created by +the movement of the vessel through the still atmosphere. Upon the +cooler side of the upper deck the first class passengers had disposed +themselves under the once-white awning. Two natives, a Tagalog planter +named Ledesma and his big-eyed, full-bosomed daughter, had withdrawn +themselves from the whites and were seated in conscious dignity near +the aft rail. Four Americans were grouped up forward, stretched out in +full length<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> steamer chairs in the complete physical comfort born of a +cooling evening after a blistering day.</p> + +<p>Lindsey reached out to pull up an extra chair, beckoned Terry to join +them and introduced him to the fourth member of the group, naming him +as Sears.</p> + +<p>He was a big man, heavy-set, a bit untidy of dress and beard: his face +was flushed, and he answered Terry's pleasant salutation with a +mattered growl. Lindsey moved in his chair, uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant," he said, "we want to get acquainted with you. We shall +see much of each other in Davao."</p> + +<p>Before Terry could respond a harsh voice broke in: "Yes, none of us +are stuck on ourselves down here!"</p> + +<p>The words fell cold. Sensing the purpose to offend, Terry straightened +in his chair to face Sears. He met his surly stare squarely: their +eyes battled, but under the level gaze Sears' bloodshot eyes wavered +and lowered, the flush deepening angrily with his confusion.</p> + +<p>Lindsey hastily summoned the deckboy to take their orders and by the +time he returned with the drinks the constraint had abated. Sears, the +only one who had ordered whiskey, settled back in his chair in sullen +relief from a situation not quite to his liking. Lindsey raised his +glass to Terry.</p> + +<p>"To your arrival among us," he offered, pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"To you all, sir," Terry responded.</p> + +<p>"More hemp!" suggested Cochran.</p> + +<p>Little Casey attested to his passion: "To breeds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> and breeders and +breeding!" he grinned: it was his never-failing toast at the Davao +Club.</p> + +<p>They waited a moment for Sears, but he had gulped his drink.</p> + +<p>It was the enthusiastic Casey who first spoke: "Lieutenant, and when +do you think you can come down to my place? I want you to see my +Berkshire boar and my two American mares!"</p> + +<p>Cochran smiled at him, affectionately: everybody liked Casey for his +wild enthusiasms. His latest hobby was the importation of blooded +animals to cross with native stock.</p> + +<p>"Casey," said Cochran, "if you would pay half as much attention to +your plantation as you do to your mares and that old grunter, you'd +get somewhere!"</p> + +<p>Casey snorted: "Sure, and in about three months I'll have a colt to +show you—then you'll sing another tune! And wait till I get some +half-breed pigs—instead of the hollow-backed scrawny things we've got +now—then you'll admit that Casey was the boy!"</p> + +<p>Casey was more or less of a character in the Gulf. His words flew so +fast they overran each other in effort to keep abreast of his racing +ideas. Thoroughly respected for his sterling character, he was made +the target of much good-natured hilarity because of his constant +hobby-riding and the rushing speech that made him almost incoherent. +His mares and boar had cost him money that could better have gone into +plantation improvements.</p> + +<p>The conversation, drifting fitfully, touched upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> a new stripping +machine which Lindsey had purchased in Manila: he was bringing it down +in the hold of the <i>Francesca</i>.</p> + +<p>"I watched them load it," he declared. "I took no chances in being shy +a necessary bolt or belt. I'll have it set up in a couple of weeks and +if it works as well in the field as it did in the agent's +warehouse—no more labor troubles for me—no more hemp rotting in the +ground for lack of strippers!"</p> + +<p>Cochran was mildly pessimistic. He had seen too many other heralded +inventions which worked well experimentally but failed in the hemp +fields. Of course Casey was hopeful—it was his nature.</p> + +<p>Sears broke his long silence: "Labor troubles, labor shortage! +Hell!—there's plenty of labor in the Gulf—if only the Government +wasn't always hornin' in on us!"</p> + +<p>Terry knew the remark was aimed at him but refrained from comment. +Sears mistook his silence.</p> + +<p>"But no meddlin' government is goin' to interfere with me! I'm goin' +to run my own place from now on—and get my labor where I please—and +how I please!"</p> + +<p>As this elicited no response from the patient officer he continued +despite Lindsey's distressed signals. Emboldened, he turned directly +to Terry.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he snarled, "that you were sent down to be the little +fairy god-father to the Bogobos—to protect the poor heathen from the +awful planters who want to make them work. No?"</p> + +<p>Terry stirred. "Mr. Sears, I am instructed to protect the Bogobos from +any oppression—and to aid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> the planters in every legitimate way. I +hope to do both."</p> + +<p>Sears' passion seemed fed by the conciliatory tone. Terry studied the +convulsed face and through the thick veil of rage saw the lines of +worry that had aged him prematurely: the black hair was streaked with +gray and his hands were thickened and stained with toil. Moved by a +quick sympathy Terry spoke again:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sears, this is no time to discuss the matter. In a week or so I +will come to see you and—"</p> + +<p>Sears interrupted in a voice hoarse with anger: "Terry, if any +government man comes—snoopin' round my place—I'll—I'll—he will +never snoop again!"</p> + +<p>In the tense silence that followed the challenge Lindsey bit clean +through his cigar. Terry's answer was so long in coming that the trio +of Americans who listened experienced something of the faint qualm +which sickens a man when he witnesses another's backing-down. Finally +he spoke, slowly, his measured words scarcely audible above the +muffled beat of the propeller.</p> + +<p>"Sears, I am coming to your place first. I will come within a week."</p> + +<p>Sears jumped to his feet, shaking with the hatred he had conceived for +the young officer. Terry rose easily, looking frail in comparison with +the burly figure opposing him, but he surveyed Sears steadily, +unafraid, and not unfriendly.</p> + +<p>Cochran coughed loudly, and again. Casey nervously undid a shoelace, +retieing it with meticulous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> care. Lindsey rose with studied +leisureliness and stood at the rail near Sears, ready.</p> + +<p>But the ship's bell rang out the dinner hour, a waiting Visayan +steward stepped out on the deck hammering a Chinese dinner gong, and +in the strident din the crisis passed. Lindsey lingered to speak with +Terry after the others had passed below.</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry, Lieutenant. Sears is a rough fellow, but he is +half-crazed with worry. He's really not a bad <i>hombre</i>."</p> + +<p>Terry nodded: "I can see that he is worried about something."</p> + +<p>"It's his plantation. He has invested what little money he had in it, +has worked hard for three years, and now that he has his first big +crop he can't harvest it—the Bogobos won't work for him. He is pretty +rough with them, I guess—but if he doesn't harvest this crop he's +ruined. He's in debt—and pretty desperate."</p> + +<p>He paused, a deeper concern crept into his face: "Lieutenant," he said +earnestly, "can't you stay away from his place—a while—till he gets +his hemp cut and stripped? He is really desperate—and always packs a +gun."</p> + +<p>Terry smiled his gratitude. "Lindsey, I am much obliged to you. You +need not worry about it."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Neither Sears nor Lindsey were of the group which assembled on deck +after dinner to enjoy the brilliancy of the swift sunset. The ship had +swung through Sarangani Channel and was paralleling the west coast due +north toward Davao. The red glory<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> of the dying sun tinted the waters +of the Gulf to the line of palm-fringed beach which edged the distant +shoreline. From the shore the land sloped gently to the west and +north, mile after mile of primeval jungle broken here and there where +brush and thorn and creeper had yielded to man's demand for more and +more hemp. Far inland the steady rise persisted, grew more abrupt and +more heavily timbered, terminating in the far interior in a dim and +mighty mountain whose dark-wooded slopes and misted crest dominated +the Gulf: the red orb of the sun had dropped behind this towering +summit.</p> + +<p>Cochran pointed up at the distant mountain: "Mount Apo."</p> + +<p>Terry nodded: "Where the Hill People live?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—where they are supposed to live: no one really knows ... you +will hear all sorts of stories."</p> + +<p>The shadows which lurked upon Mount Apo descended over the lower +slopes, then enfolded the Gulf. The lights on the steamer shone +murkily. The three lay back watching the stars brighten overhead. For +a long time nothing was heard but the querulous mutterings of the old +boat as she waddled on her way.</p> + +<p>Terry broke the silence: "Where is Lindsey?"</p> + +<p>Cochran answered quickly to head off the more explicit Casey: "Oh, +he's busy—busy with Sears."</p> + +<p>Terry understood. Cochran sparred for an opening in the silence his +friendship for Sears made embarrassing.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant, you are likely to have work for your soldiers pretty +soon. There's a rough outfit gathering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> down here in the Gulf—though +I imagine Bronner told you all about it."</p> + +<p>"He told me something of it, but I would like to hear more."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know much about it, excepting that a score or more of +tough characters have come down in the past two months. They settled +on a mangy plantation up the coast, north of Davao, but they aren't +working: just loafing around all day. They seem to be waiting for +something—or somebody. The natives are scared, and the whites don't +feel any too good about it either! You know we are scattered all over +the Gulf—everybody a mile or more away from his neighbors—and that +means a mile of jungle."</p> + +<p>Casey flared up: "We ought to run 'em out—they're no good, probably +carabao thieves or worse—"</p> + +<p>"How worse?" grinned Cochran. "Horse thieves—or pig thieves?"</p> + +<p>Casey did not mind being ragged by his friends. He persisted: +"Lieutenant, you ought to run 'em out as undesirables or under the +vagabond law! They're no good—they won't work—and they're the +toughest lookin' lot I ever did see! Sure and if I had my way I'd toss +the lot into Sears' crocodile hole—the dirty, low-lived, shiftless +lot of 'em!"</p> + +<p>Terry was interested: "Sears' crocodile hole?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Cochran laughingly explained: "It's more or less of a joke between +Sears and Lindsey: each has a hoodoo on his place that makes it harder +to get laborers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> The Bogobos fear a great snake they swear haunts +Lindsey's woods, and none of them wants to go near a pool on Sears' +places just below the ford—they claim it is the home of a monstrous +crocodile, thirty feet long. No white man has ever seen either; it's a +big joke in a way—but a costly one for them as it makes the wild men +give their places a wide berth."</p> + +<p>"What have they done about it?"</p> + +<p>"Everything. Got up hunting parties—stalked the places for hours and +days, tried to convince the natives that it is all bosh. But they +insist it's all true, and stay away—and loss of man power means loss +of money they both need this year. Both of them think the stories are +just the usual Bogobo exaggerations."</p> + +<p>Terry thought Cochran not quite convinced: "What do you think?"</p> + +<p>"I? Oh, I don't know. It's hard to swallow the stories—man-eating +snakes and crocodiles sound all right on the lips of the old Spaniards +but where our flag flies things seem to sober down. Yet I've usually +found that back of all these Bogobo tales there is an element of +truth: and two years ago when I was clearing my place I shot an +eighteen-foot python. Stumbled on it sleeping—glad it was!"</p> + +<p>The evening monsoon had set in, rippling the surface of the sea and +humming its cooling refrain through the rigging. Casey yawned heavily +and went below to seek the planter's early sleep. Cochran remained +with Terry for a half-hour, enlightening him with a running talk of +the problems confronting the planters. He was well educated, +progressive, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> backed by ample family means had developed the best +holding in the Gulf. He told Terry that on this trip he had succeeded +in persuading thirty timid Visayan families to settle upon his +plantation despite their native fear of all things Mindanaoan, and +that his profits for the year would return him sixty per cent of the +capital he had invested in his place.</p> + +<p>"You will soon understand conditions, Lieutenant," he declared as he +rose to go below. "Most of the planters need labor, and they need +capital." He threw his cigar butt over the rail, debating the ethics +of uttering what might be thought a criticism of his associates. "And +they need farming intelligence most—too many of them were army men or +government men before coming down here, yet they tackle a highly +specialized form of tropical agriculture with utter confidence! They +aren't farmers—they're just heroes!"</p> + +<p>He half-turned to go, hesitated: "Lieutenant, you're going to like it +down here—because we're going to like you. Now, of course it's none +of my business, but if I were you I would keep away from Sears' +place—he will make his threat good. He has it in him to become a +pretty bad man—but as I say, it's none of my business. Goodnight, +sir."</p> + +<p>After Cochran had gone, Terry, sleepless, slowly walked the gently +rolling deck. Ledesma stood at the rail near the forward lifeboat +gazing into the soft shadows which shrouded the muttering ship. At +Terry's quiet approach he turned to address him abstractedly in the +liquid Spanish of cultured Filipinos.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Buenas Noches, Señor Teniente."</p> + +<p>Terry answered in the same tongue: "Good Evening, Señor Ledesma. A +fine night."</p> + +<p>The natives' vague fear of the dark—wrought into instinct by a +thousand generations of ancestors who crouched at night around +flickering campfires in jungles through which crept hostile men and +marauding beasts—had fastened upon him, stripping him of the thin +veneer of civilization the Spaniards had laid but lightly over the +Malayan barbarism. He shifted uneasily, looked out over the starlit +sea.</p> + +<p>"Teniente," he murmured, "I like not the night. The dead rise ... some +sing ... some complain ... drift through the black mists searching for +those they have long lost ... the vampires seek for unprotected +children.... I like not the night...."</p> + +<p>Lost in the ghastly realms of native ghostlore, he ignored the +American. Terry rounded the deck once and when he came again to where +Ledesma had stood he found him gone to seek the cheer of lighted +cabin. Terry stopped at the forward rail, his face upturned to the big +stars which burned in the soft depths of the warm sky: the Southern +Cross poised just over the crest of Apo. Below, on the black sea, the +thrust of the vessel threw up a great welt which bordered the wedge of +disturbed waters: phosphorescence gleamed like great wet stars. The +tips of cigarettes glowed on the forward deck where members of the +crew lay prone, exchanging occasional words in the hushed voices races +not far from nature use in the still hours of the night.</p> + +<p>The morning would find him in a strange place,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> among strangers ... he +leaned upon the rail in a sudden excess of yearning for those whom he +loved, summoned the spirits of those who loved him. They came to him +through the night—Susan fretting, Ellis affectionately gruff, Enrico +boisterously cheerful, Father Jennings wise, patient, watchful. +Another, fairer, unutterably dear, hovered near him: he strove, as of +old, to bridge the gap—and was baffled, as of old.</p> + +<p>The eight bells of midnight roused him from his dejected reverie: he +straightened from the rail. The Cross had dipped into the clouded +crest: miles to the west a shorefire bit into the black mantle that +draped the Gulf. The low wailing of an infant and the guttural +endeavors of the mother to soothe it came up from the forward deck +where the native passengers lay sprawled in the profound slumber of +the Malay: pacified, it slept again, then the night was still but for +the soft sounds of displaced waters and the creakings of the ship's +old joints.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>As he passed along the narrow, ill-lighted passage toward his cabin he +heard a voice raised in ugly imprecation:</p> + +<p>"I'll get him if he comes, the —— upstart! Just let him show his +face on my place, by ——, I'll fix him!"</p> + +<p>It was Sears' voice. As he felt his way down the dark corridor, he +heard Lindsey's low tones, reproachful, conciliatory.</p> + +<p>A few steps further brought him near Sears' door. Suddenly he +distinguished a figure outlined against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> the door, listening. As a +match flared in Terry's fingers, the native whirled.</p> + +<p>It was Matak. He followed Terry to his cabin, unabashed.</p> + +<p>"Master," he said simply, "he talk about you. He make fight talk—kill +talk—so I listen."</p> + +<p>The seed of his loyalty fell on ground furrowed by the lonely hours on +deck. Shame at having given way to a great depression swept over +Terry—friends were in the making, this splendid friend already made +... and he had come to serve, not to seek.... He smiled into the +worshiping black eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Matak. You do not understand. You go to your quarters +and get some sleep."</p> + +<p>The Moro lingered. "Anything more, master?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Matak. Don't call me 'master': call me 'lieutenant.'</p> + +<p>"Yes, master." He left the cabin.</p> + +<p>Terry, always a light sleeper, was awakened toward morning by a slight +sound outside his door. Looking out into the dim corridor he saw that +Matak was standing guard over his slumbers, armed with a big bolo +whose naked length gleamed viciously in the semi-darkness.</p> + +<p>Touched by the devotion and realizing the futility of trying to drive +him from his vigil, Terry lay back on the pillow, the rhythmic beat of +the propeller in his ears. Asleep, he dreamed, and the chug of the +screw became the beat of an engine bearing him away from the home of +his fathers.</p> + +<p>The Moro heard the restless tossing and stepped silently into the +little stateroom, his young-old eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> fastened upon the wistful lines +that marked the competent young face. While he stood brooding over his +young master the dawn streaked through the open porthole, and a soft +splash sounded from up forward as the ship dropped her roped anchor. +They were off Davao.</p> + +<p>Terry had come into port.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE LAND OF HEMP</h3> + + +<p>In three months the Gulf had laid its spell upon Terry. He had come to +love the great slopes, from the sandy coastline to the last swift +grades to Apo's distant top, the loveliness of the wind-tossed palms +which fringed the water's edge, the sparkle of the ocean's blue +expanse and its quick response to moods of sun and wind.</p> + +<p>During the noontime hours the sun was blazing hot but he could order +his work so as to avoid exposure. Out at daybreak, he usually +accomplished the duties of the day during the cool morning hours, +reading through the siesta hours in the coolness of his great open +house.</p> + +<p>Seldom did the routine of his work—the drill, the sifting of patrol +reports, the minutiae of the service—overreach into the afternoon +hours: then he was free to range the country, to learn its trails and +towns, its people and its spirit. His big gray pony had become a +familiar sight in every village, on nearly every plantation. Sometimes +he was gone upon two-day trips up or down the coast, or riding the +narrow trails through the deep green shade of the woods, his Stetson +seldom touched by direct sunlight.</p> + +<p>There was a never-ending pleasure in the hemp fields, great sweeps of +tall abaca plants glinting in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> the sun: and in the sluggish, useful +river which drained the levels, its turbid bosom bearing a few silent +native craft, its oily depths suggesting a basis for the legends of +huge crocodiles which no white man had ever seen.</p> + +<p>He worked hard, but it was not all work. Many an early evening found +him out on the broad Gulf in an outrigger canoe he had learned to +handle with native skill, sometimes with Matak, oftener with Mercado, +the first sergeant of his Macabebe company. Sometimes, when the +surface was calm, he spent wonderful hours in studying the cool depths +of the waters, the lee-shore coral ledges which bore fairy gardens of +oceanic flora, brilliant-hued, weird-shaped, swaying gently in the +tidal current: strange forms of sea-life moved among the marine +growths,—some beautiful in form and color, others hideous. Once, +while he watched a school of smaller fish playing around a huge +sea-turtle, they disappeared as if by signal and the tortoise drew in +his scaled head and sank to rest on the bottom as a swordfish swam +majestically over the spot, then darted into deeper waters. There were +clams as large as washtubs.</p> + +<p>Often, while Mercado—or Matak—paddled, he trolled a flashing bait to +lure the gamefish which swarmed in the depths. Rarely did such an +evening pass without a long fight with a leaping pampano or a sea +bass: with thirty or forty pounds of desperate muscle at the other end +of a hundred-yard line, the song of reel was sweet. One night he +brought in an eighty-pound barracuda but usually the larger fish cost +him line, leader or spoon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>At times the surface of the Gulf was alive with schools of leaping +fish: one evening he saw a great fish, a tanguingi, rise into the air +with nose pointed upward, till, at a height of twenty-five feet, it +reversed for a downward rush to plunge in the exact center of the +ripples its great leap had created. Once, far out on the Gulf with +Matak, he came upon a forty-foot whale asleep on the surface, rolling +dreamily from side to side: the Moro, unafraid of man or devil, turned +Malay-green with terror as Terry prodded the huge black surface with +his paddle. Awakened, it upended in a sluggish dive, the heavy flirt +of its great glistening tail smashing the left outrigger and drenching +them to the skin.</p> + +<p>Terry had attended strictly to the affairs which properly came under +his control and in doing this and doing it well, had won the respect +of natives and whites, a respect which had warmed into admiration +among those who knew him better, into affection with those who knew +him best. The loyal Macabebes would have followed him against any foe, +and, better than that, they drilled hard and worked faithfully that +they might be a credit to their leader.</p> + +<p>The natives knew him as "<i>El Solitario</i>," "The Solitary," partly +because he played his game alone in a quiet competent way, to all +appearances equally friendly to all, regardless of color or condition, +partly because he seemed unconscious of the lures of all those brown +maidens known to be as shady of character as of color.</p> + +<p>He had often stopped to spend an hour or two with Ledesma on his +prospering plantation. He liked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> Ledesma's sincere, old-school +courtesy, and he liked him because Ledesma was known as an +Americanista, looked upon the Americans as God-sent to guide his +people out of their sloth and abysmal ignorance. But he gave up these +visits following a day when he found the dark-eyed, ripe-bosomed +daughter alone in the house and learned, in her flaming passion for +him, that she had misunderstood the reason for his calls.</p> + +<p>The frequency of his trips to the outlying plantations had increased +as the weeks went by, especially to the pitiful holdings of some of +the poor natives. Malabanan's coming had been broadcasted across the +land, and an uneasiness had settled over the Gulf, a vague fear Terry +sought to allay. But Malabanan's record, a dark and dismal history of +hideous crime for which he had been but half punished, was known +throughout the country, and was the nightly subject of fearful +conversation in every hut on every isolated plantation.</p> + +<p>Terry had ridden, alone, to the neglected settlement up the coast +where the gang of roughs had rendezvous, but Malabanan was away. A +dozen hard-looking natives had sullenly responded to his curt +questions. None were working, though he had arrived during the cool of +the afternoon and the fields cried for attention.</p> + +<p>In Davao, the town, he found consuming interest. Sleepy six days in +the week it woke each Wednesday during the couple of hours the weekly +steamer anchored offshore to discharge cargo into a lighter, drop a +passenger or two, and send ashore the exiles' greatest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> balm—home +mail. He came to know everybody: first the other government +people—Lieutenant-Governor; Scout officers; Dr. Merchant, the +district health officer; school teachers, native postmaster. Seldom a +week passed that he failed to saunter into each of the Chinese +tiendas, making the purchase of matches or other small articles the +excuse for a half-hour's visit. Oftenest he went into Lan Yek's smelly +little shop, for there the Bogobos brought their mountain hemp to +trade for small agongs: tired from their heavy packing, they would +squat down on the floor along the wall, one of them occasionally +stepping to an agong to test it with deft contact of finger, all +joining him in rapt study of its tone, measuring the duration of the +lingering waves of sound. Terry learned, in time, that they found +greatest merit in those agongs which rang longest to lightest stroke.</p> + +<p>Even those timid Bogobos who never left the wooded foothills knew him. +He went among them, studying their language, learning their customs +and hopes and fears, listening to their picturesque traditions. +Always, when he met a file of the beaded, braceleted folk upon the +trail, he dismounted to exchange a few words with them. Unbelievably +shy at first, in time they came to know him as word passed through the +foothills of the young white man who understood: so they brought their +problems to him, some pathetic, some ridiculous—recently he had +ridden twenty miles to settle a dispute regarding the ownership of +some yet unborn puppies.</p> + +<p>As their confidence increased, they unsealed their tight lips in +relation of strange tales of the Hill<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> People, unbelievable stories of +the wild tribe who lived in the forbidden mountain beyond the Dark +Forest: stories told usually by old men and old women, who shivered as +they whispered their legends to the white man by the campfire. They +told him the dread stories because they liked his quietness, his +slightly twisted, friendly smile, and because, as they told each +other, he listened as one who sees not with the eyes alone.</p> + +<p>When he saw that the fear of Malabanan had spread among these widely +scattered, defenseless wildmen, Terry grew grimmer. But as the weeks +passed peacefully by, hope grew within him that Malabanan's presence +in the lovely, fertile Gulf boded no ill.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Major Bronner, arriving unexpectedly, found that Terry had been away +all day on a mission among the Bogobos. Learning from Matak that his +master would return within a few hours the Major left his bag and +crossed over to the Davao Club for dinner. Entering the club, a roomy +house furnished by the planters to provide a comfortable place in +which to put up when forced to town by business or the monotony of +their isolation, he passed straight to the dining room, discovering +Lindsey, Cochran and a dozen others he knew. As he paused in the +doorway Lindsey spied him and called him to the table he shared with +Cochran and two others. After the Major had responded to the greeting +called from all four tables, Lindsey took up the thread of a story the +Major's entrance had interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Major, I was just telling of my experiences with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> the hemp machine I +brought down three months ago. As I was saying, I set the machine up +in my biggest field and tried it out in private—and Man! How she did +strip hemp! Convinced that I had the world by the tail I sent word out +to all the Bogobos in the neighborhood to come in next day to see the +machine work, and sent a special bid to the old chief who lords it +over that section.</p> + +<p>"Well, they came all right—ready to see the crazy Americans' newest +devilment—and all set for the feast they knew I'd give! The chief +came, with the bunch who act as a staff for him, and I lined them up +right in front of the machine in the center of a crowd of two hundred +wild men—all about as scared by the machine's appearance as they +could be. I was pretty proud, and pretty happy: I gave them a good +spiel through my interpreter, telling them that from now on all who +worked for me would be free from the hard toil of stripping—nothing +to do but field work—and all that. I thought that they would admire +this new evidence of the American genius, would pile over each other +in their desire to work for me.</p> + +<p>"I nodded to the mechanic: he cranked the engine and it got off to a +fine start and before throwing in the clutch that hooked it up with +the stripper I looked out over the silent, brown-faced crowd. I had to +grin at their expectant, half-scared attitude: the old chief stood +right in front of the big machine—he was uncertain about it all, but +game. I threw her in and waved to the feeders, who tossed in the great +stalks as the big iron arms started to revolve in the air. It did make +an infernal racket—but it did strip<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> hemp. The fiber came out of one +end, the juice ran into a trough—oh, it worked great.</p> + +<p>"I spent a minute or two seeing that everything worked right, then I +turned triumphantly to the crowd. But, Lord—there wasn't any crowd—I +saw the last of their brown backs disappearing into the brush!</p> + +<p>"All but the old chief. He stood right there; stiff with fright, I +guess! I stopped the machine and went over to him to ask him to tell +his young men to work for me as he could see how easy it would be for +them, now that I had this machine."</p> + +<p>He paused, laughing ruefully. "But I didn't get a chance to say a +word. He took one last look at the now quiet iron monster, clucked +that peculiar 'Tuk!' in which they express the maximum of emotion, +uttered two words—'<i>Americano devils!</i>'—then stalked away as rapidly +as his bent old legs would carry him. He disappeared into the +woods—and hasn't been seen since!</p> + +<p>"And worst of all, all of my Bogobos quit me, so that instead of +cornering the labor market in Davao I lost most of what I had! I'm +punching the bag every day now, getting in shape to greet the next +<i>hombre</i> that tries to sell me a machine!"</p> + +<p>He joined goodnaturedly in the laugh which filled the room and when it +subsided turned to the Major gratefully.</p> + +<p>"Major, my hemp lay rotting in my fields: it meant serious loss to +me—it would have wiped me out. But Lieutenant Terry heard about it +and without saying anything to me, went among the Bogobos and +persuaded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> sixty of them to work for me—the most I ever had was +thirty-one. He has a wonderful hold upon them—they will do anything +he says: and I'm not the only one he has helped out; am I, boys?"</p> + +<p>A dozen planters supported him, enthusiastic, vehement.</p> + +<p>Cochran knew the Major intimately, his hobbies and aversions. He +turned to him solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Married yet, Major?"</p> + +<p>"Who—me? I guess not! No petticoats for mine!"</p> + +<p>In the laugh which rose over Cochran's elicitation of the bachelor's +invariable formula, several of the planters moved their chairs near +the Major's table. All of these quiet, efficient Constabulary were +well liked, and the Major had been known to many of these Davao +pioneers since the days when they had fought together against +insurrectos, cholera, torturing sun, treachery; the days when capture +had meant the agony of dissection piecemeal, hamstringing, the ant +hill.</p> + +<p>The Major's face had relapsed into gravity: "Lieutenant Terry is well +liked, then?" he suggested.</p> + +<p>Lindsey replied, earnestly: "Major, he owns this whole Gulf. He hasn't +an enemy—not counting that gang of Malabanan's up the coast."</p> + +<p>Burns, a gruff old planter, interposed: "He had one enemy, once."</p> + +<p>Cochran understood that the uncommunicative Burns would go no further +and thought the Major should be enlightened.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"As I was the only witness," he began, "I guess I must tell the story. +One of our planters, Sears, took a dislike to Terry on the way down +from Zamboanga: no reason for it—he was grouchy and sore, had been +drinking too hard trying to forget his troubles.</p> + +<p>"You know Sears, Major. His inability to get labor was ruining him and +he went too far in 'persuading' the Bogobos to work for him. Well, he +went after Terry on the boat, and it wound up with Sears threatening +to do Terry up if he came near his plantation: and Terry quietly +assured him that he would go there first of all.</p> + +<p>"We were all worried about it for a week, as Sears is a bad man when +aroused and never goes back on his word, and we knew Terry would +go—he was all business, though quiet and white. Well, when Sears got +back to his place all of his Bogobos had left him, the fields were +deserted. It meant the loss of his crop, complete ruin, so he got to +drinking harder and finally, desperate, brought in some Bogobos at the +point of a pistol and put them to work.</p> + +<p>"It was pretty raw, of course. Everybody knew of it that night. The +next morning I rode over to offer him some of my men and as I came in +sight of the house I saw Terry, riding his gray pony, enter Sears' +clearing from the east trail.</p> + +<p>"I was pretty scared. I knew he was there on business—that he would +be the first one to hear of Sears' coup. I spurred up to see if I +couldn't prevent serious trouble, but when I drew near I pulled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> up: +there was something in his face that made me keep out, made me +understand that I was an outsider in this affair.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sears rushed out just as Terry dismounted, his eyes inflamed +with rage—and with a whiskey hangover, I guess, though he seemed +perfectly sober. He stood at the top of the steps looking at Terry, +his face purple, trembling all over: he had his 45 in his hand. Terry +tied the reins to the lower railing, then stood looking up at Sears +with that queer expression which I couldn't fathom. Sears spoke first, +his voice husky.</p> + +<p>"'So you've come, Terry,' he said.</p> + +<p>"'Yes, I have come, Sears.' He looked sort of small and white compared +with Sears up there, but somehow I could not worry about him. I +thought Sears would choke for a minute, then he said:</p> + +<p>"'If you put a foot on those steps I'll—I'll—'</p> + +<p>"Terry didn't give him a chance to finish the threat, but stepped +forward. I noticed that his gray pony sort of nipped at him, +affectionately, as he passed his head and made the first step up. +Sears must have gone clean crazy. He raised the big pistol and fired +pointblank!</p> + +<p>"They weren't fifteen feet apart, but he missed, and that shot passed +over Terry's shoulder and tore a great chunk out of the cantle of his +saddle. The pony tore loose and ran away. I just sat there, scared to +death!</p> + +<p>"Terry never took his eyes off Sears and he still wore that same +expression I mentioned before: he was white as a sheet but he was not +scared. No, sir!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> Sears kept the pistol pointed at him and as Terry +came up another step I saw the hammer lift again, but it eased back +and the pistol wavered as Sears fell under the spell of Terry's +upturned eyes. His face changed queerly as Terry kept coming, he +stepped back uncertainly, the pistol dropped to his side. He +understood why Terry had come, and I did also, at the same time.</p> + +<p>"Terry was SORRY for him!"</p> + +<p>Cochran paused a moment to conquer a little catch that had crept into +his voice, and then concluded his story: "Well, Major, Sears realized +suddenly what he had tried to do and looked down at the gun in his +hands as in a dream, then offered it to Terry. But Terry shook his +head, said something in a low tone I didn't hear, and they went +inside, leaving me to cool my heels in the yard like the rank outsider +I was! They came out in half an hour, arm in arm, and Terry stepped to +the rail and sounded the Bogobo call. In about a minute a big gang of +half-naked Bogobos filed out of the woods into the clearing and +gathered around him at the foot of the steps.</p> + +<p>"Terry talked to them awhile in their own lingo, then asked Sears if +he had living accommodations for the whole bunch. Before coming to +Sears' place he had spent the night in the foothills and persuaded +seventy Bogobos to come in and work for Sears—Bogobos, mind you, who +have always feared Sears and refused to approach his place!</p> + +<p>"That's the story, Major,—except that Sears harvested his full crop, +is on his feet again, has cut booze and treats his men as well as any +planter in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> the Gulf. And he sure does worship this young lieutenant +of yours!"</p> + +<p>The Major studied the end of his cigar. "He never reports anything +like that," he admitted. "I'm glad you told me."</p> + +<p>"You'll hear plenty more such—" Cochran began, but was interrupted by +the loud entrance of little Casey. He tore into the room, breezy, +voluble, greeting every one with short, jerky sentences. He reached +the Major last.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Major! How's everything? I passed Lieutenant Terry on the +trail—three miles out—he was leading his pony—said it was lame +though it hardly limped at all! Tried to get him to mount and ride in +with me—but he wouldn't—sure and he's the merciful man to beasts!"</p> + +<p>He rambled on till the Major interrupted him with: "How are the +breeding experiments coming on, Casey? Any foals yet—or pigs?"</p> + +<p>The little man disregarded the amused grin of the planters, pouring +forth in long eulogy of American mares and boar. "You come down to my +place in about two weeks," he wound up at last, "and I'll show you! +I'll have some cross-bred colts and pigs worth the seeing—and I'm +going to name the first one after Terry!"</p> + +<p>"First pig?" Cochran seemed serious.</p> + +<p>"No—first colt—the first pig I'll name for you!"</p> + +<p>Soon the Major left Casey capably sparring with the plaguing Cochran, +and seated himself on a broad window ledge above the dark plaza, +smoking thoughtfully. He had made no mistake in sending Terry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> here. +Three phonographs strove against each other from different houses +along the plaza. It is characteristic of the Americans in the +Philippines that most of them take unto their bosoms these mechanical +comforts, instead of the animated talking machines which the Spaniards +affected. The sky was black with the threat of rain, low thunder +rumbled in the west, above Apo.</p> + +<p>A few minutes, and the Major distinguished two forms making their way +along the north side of the dark plaza and as they passed under one of +the oil park-lamps he recognized Terry, leading a weary pony which +limped slightly. As the Major secured his cap and waved a cheery +goodnight to the gathering, Lindsey hurried to the door to intercept +him.</p> + +<p>"Major, Lieutenant Terry promised to come over to my place to-morrow +afternoon. We were going to have a drive against the wild +pigs—they've been raising the devil with my young plants. You will +come along with him, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"You bet! I haven't had any shooting in months. But you won't let that +big snake get me, will you?"</p> + +<p>Chuckling, he left the club and crossed the plaza to Terry's quarters. +Entering, he heard Terry splashing under the shower. Terry emerged +soon, kimono clad, his face lighted hospitably when he spied the Major +sitting by the lamp-lit table.</p> + +<p>Dressed, Terry ate and listened while the Major smoked and talked.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant," he finally remarked, "there is no more trouble among the +Bogobos?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. It has stopped—as I reported to you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Major regarded him closely: "What stopped it?"</p> + +<p>"I just talked to some of the planters, and they understood."</p> + +<p>Looking up, he flushed under the Major's quizzical gaze.</p> + +<p>"Major, those planters at the club have been stuffing you!" he +complained.</p> + +<p>The Major gravely discussed Malabanan. "Terry, you may not have to +move against him—I hope not, anyway. But I want you to be in a +position to finish anything he starts. Do you want me to send you an +additional company?"</p> + +<p>"No—I can handle anything in reason with the Macabebes."</p> + +<p>"What did you do with the secret service man I sent down?"</p> + +<p>"I planted him up the coast where he can watch that gang."</p> + +<p>Terry unfolded his plans for handling the situation should the +ladrones break loose upon the Gulf, and the Major was satisfied.</p> + +<p>"It hardly seems possible," he said, "that they will try it—but with +only one company here to cover the whole Gulf—and in so remote a +settlement—it may look like easy pickings. But if Malabanan +dares—you smash him!"</p> + +<p>The threatened rainstorm had passed to the north, leaving the night +clear and cool: a strong breeze fluttered the lamp. Matak entered to +clear the table and Terry, who had not eaten the fried chicken, pushed +it toward the Moro with goodnatured impatience.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Matak, this chicken is only half cooked: I've warned the cook several +times—tell him to eat it."</p> + +<p>Matak, silent and grim as ever, bore the offending dish out, while +Terry turned to the Major to discuss the morrow's sport. In a moment +their voices were drowned by the crash of dishes falling in the +kitchen, then a fearsome shriek reached the startled pair, a moaning +cry terminating abruptly in a choking gurgle. They sprang up and into +the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Matak was astride the prostrate Visayan in the midst of the broken +crockery and bent tinware spilled from the upset table. He had the +cook's mouth pried open in determined endeavor to ram what looked like +half a chicken down the Visayan's gullet. Half-strangled and crazed +with fear the cook rolled his eyes beseechingly.</p> + +<p>Bronner raised Matak bodily and Terry helped the trembling Filipino to +his feet. He turned to Matak sternly.</p> + +<p>"What does this mean?"</p> + +<p>"He would not eat it, master."</p> + +<p>The cook broke in, almost hysterical: "Matak say I must eat cheecken, +that you say so. I say 'all right, eat to-morrow.' He say 'eat now.' I +say 'no, to-morrow.' Then he fight. I no eat to-day—notheeng—to-day +church fast day!"</p> + +<p>As recollection came of his joking instructions to the ever serious +Matak, Terry turned to the Major but he had run from the kitchen, +choking. Having patched up a truce between them, Terry followed the +Major into the sala.</p> + +<p>At sight of his rueful face the Major burst into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> fresh laughter. "His +fast day!" he chuckled. "These Moros are sure literal-minded—they +follow your words exactly. I've had some queer examples in the past +year."</p> + +<p>They sat through the cool evening talking of their multi-phased +service, Bronner earnest and unwittingly eloquent in his summing up of +its ideals, its hopes for the future, Terry silent and thoughtful as +the big man talked about plans for Mindanao, for the Gulf.</p> + +<p>"And some day, Terry," he concluded, after a stirring account of what +two officers, Case and Gallman, had done among the Luzon headhunters, +"some day we will get to the Hill People: the right man will come +along, and the right combination of circumstances. It is an unusual +combination—the right man plus the right place plus the right time. +Carnegie would probably have been just a tight-fisted Scot had he +lived in Napoleon's time, and Napoleon if born in this generation +might never get a headline.</p> + +<p>"I would like to be the man who first wins to the Hills. Think of the +glory of such a life work—opening the doors for a benighted people +and leading them out of savagery into the decencies and comforts and +safety of civilization!"</p> + +<p>The steady evening breeze had stiffened, swinging the great airplants +which hung in the big windows. The far howl of a dog sounded through +the dark: the sleepy crowing of scores of gamecocks accurately gauged +the passing of another hour. The Major suggested sleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>Terry, in pajamas and slippers, came in to see if his guest were +comfortable for the night: assured, he crossed the sala, blew out the +light and entered his own room, closing the door behind him. Shortly, +while the Major lay watching, he threw open the door and the Major +heard him climb into bed and adjust his mosquito net.</p> + +<p>The Major mused: "That's queer—I wonder what he does behind the +closed door?"</p> + +<p>He fell asleep puzzling over it.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE PYTHON</h3> + + +<p>Nothing could be more impersonal than the manner in which the Major +inspected the company. He was very curt and official: no detail eluded +his attention, no fault of equipment, quarters, drill or training +escaped comment and correction. The command was in fine shape but it +is a service in which there is but one standard—perfection, and +perfection may never be attained. The inspection consumed the morning, +but when they sat at lunch in Terry's quarters, rank had perished +again.</p> + +<p>At two o'clock they set off leisurely for Lindsey's, Terry quiet, the +Major jovial at the prospect of a drive at the wild boar. They jogged +through the hot afternoon over a trail winding under a canopy of +foliage shrill with the plaint of myriad insect life. An hour out and +the Major was nearly unseated as his pony shied violently from a +three-foot iguana that scurried across their path in furious haste. +Farther into the woods, and they drew rein, listening to the mystic +tone of a Bogobo agong rung at minute intervals: Terry judged the gong +to be six miles distant westward, the Major contended for half a mile, +north of them. Such is the weird quality of the agong in the forest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>At four o'clock they drew up at Lindsey's roomy, thatched house set in +the middle of his clearing and in a few minutes Lindsey, soaked with +perspiration, hurried out of the tall growth of hemp ripening in his +south field.</p> + +<p>"I feared you might not be able to make it," he smiled. "You can never +tell what the next day may bring you Constabulary fellows!"</p> + +<p>He called his head native, a stocky Visayan, and ordered him to start +the beaters out, explaining to his guests that they would take their +places in an hour. The three then strolled through the streets of the +little village Lindsey had built for his laborers and their families, +a double row of neat bamboo huts, grass roofed, of which he was very +proud. Returning, they passed a huge machine rusting under a rough +shed, Lindsey's ill-fated hemp machine, introduced a little too early +to an ignorant people.</p> + +<p>Lindsey unlocked a trunk and brought out three high-powered rifles, +two of them borrowed, contrary to the law of a land where firearms +must be zealously protected against falling into hostile hands. He led +the way through the long rows of abaca which drooped listless fronds +in the quivering heat, and into the cool woods which surrounded his +fields. They went on for a half-hour into deeper jungle, emerging into +a strip of natural clearing from which they could hear the beaters +converging toward them. Lindsey stationed Terry at the left end of the +break, Bronner in the center where the shooting should be best, +himself taking the right end.</p> + +<p>As the beaters approached, crashing the underbrush<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> and shouting +lustily, the three stood motionless, guns ready: the suspense grew +tense and the beaters grew silent as they hurried, unseen, from the +line of fire. A moment of dead silence, then Lindsey heard to his +right a dry twig snap and turning saw a big boar slip out from the +brush and pause, its ugly tusks foam-flecked. His heavy gun crashed, +the boar leaped convulsively across the clearing, falling at a second +shot. As it dropped he whirled to cover a big buck which sped across +his field of fire: as it fell he heard the cracking of a lighter +weapon to his right and thought, as he shot again and again, that his +guests were not being disappointed in their sport.</p> + +<p>It was fast work while it lasted. Lindsey inspected with keen +satisfaction the bag of two pigs and one deer that had fallen to his +gun: he had missed one boar and another, which he had wounded, had +escaped down the trail which led to his house. He turned to see how +his friends had fared.</p> + +<p>The Major was known as a crack shot but no game lay before him. +Approaching him, surprised, Lindsey saw that he was absent-mindedly +putting his rifle at safe the while he stared at Terry.</p> + +<p>"Major, I'm sorry you had no chances—" Lindsey began but the Major +interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"Chances! Chances? Sus-marie-hosep! Some of those pigs almost ran up +my breeches!" He was as nearly excited as Lindsey had ever seen him, +and they had served together in a Kansas regiment.</p> + +<p>"Lindsey, I'm sure glad you asked me to come—I've seen something +worth seeing. I've seen him shoot!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<p>He pointed to Terry. His borrowed rifle stood nearby against a tree +and he was busy clipping fresh ammunition into his pistol magazines. +Five wild pigs lay in front of him near the opposite side of the +clearing. Lindsey looked his unbelief.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he did!" asserted the Major. "I watched him do it—that's why I +drew a blank. Five pigs, five shots,—and after each shot he holstered +the gun till the next pig hove in sight! I've seen good shooting, but +such drawing—such certainty—</p> + +<p>"Sus-marie-hosep!" he wound up, lamely.</p> + +<p>Terry, having replenished his magazine, clipped it into the big +automatic with a deft snap, and turned round toward them. Noting their +attitude, he colored boyishly.</p> + +<p>"Pretty lucky, wasn't I?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed the Major, drily, "you were pretty lucky!"</p> + +<p>The beaters had come up. Lindsey ordered them to carry the game for +distribution among his villagers. The sun was dipping behind the hills +as the three started back the trail through the dense woods, Lindsey +leading the way and searching for signs of the wounded boar. Every few +rods he found a pool of blood where it had paused in flight.</p> + +<p>They entered the deep shadow cast by the spread of a great banyan tree +from whose thick branches a score of accessory trunks were sent down +to seek root in the soil. Rooting, they grew into smooth, heavy +supports for the wide-spread limbs which towered above the surrounding +forest. Terry paused a moment in the twilight of the tree, studying +appreciatively<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> the miniature forest of trunks parented by the one +ancient growth. Suddenly a warning cry escaped his lips as he saw one +of the long dark trunks, a foot in diameter, loosen from a branch +where it hung suspended high over the Major's head.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Look out, Major</span>!"</p> + +<p>He leaped forward, expecting to find the Major crushed, but +involuntarily halted midway in his stride as the heavy trunk, landing +at the Major's feet with a slithering thud, writhed a terrible length +into massive folds. No eye could follow the inconceivably swift +contortions that wrapped the Major in a triple fold.</p> + +<p>Two heavy coils prisoned his legs, a third passed round his back up +over his right shoulder to curve to the trail in front of him and rear +again in a length which terminated in a massive head poised six feet +from the Major's blanched face. Demon-eyed, unwinking, its thin lips +bisected the thick-boned jaws in frightful, moist grimace.</p> + +<p>Lindsey, horror-stricken, stood helpless while the hammer head +catapulted at the sickened face of its victim. The Major's free left +arm, raised instinctively to blot out the sight of the living horror, +took the terrific impact, then dropped to his side, paralyzed. Still +bearing that hideous grin the flat head drew back for another blow at +the exposed face. The Major, faint with the terror of his helplessness +and the crushing weight of the quivering masses of muscle about him, +would have fallen but for their dread support. His consciousness fast +deserting him, fascinated, he watched the monstrous leer as the head +drew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> farther back, poised. He felt the agonizing pressure as the +great muscles steeled for the blow, and in the moment before his +senses departed, heard two crashing shots that sounded from behind +him. With the smashing reports the poised head thudded to the ground, +the folds fell from about him and he slid down among the great +quivering coils.</p> + +<p>Recovering consciousness, the horror crept back into his face but +receded when he saw Terry standing by him. Still faint and sick he +struggled to his feet, leaning against the trunk of the banyan and +stamping his feet weakly to restore the still numb legs. Terry helped +him hobble over to where the Bogobos, who had come up at the shots, +were grouped about the dead monster. Lindsey, kneeling to examine the +head of the great reptile, struck a match to point out the jagged +wounds that had shattered the base of the head.</p> + +<p>"Cut the spinal cord," he explained quietly. He was as pale as the +Major. "Any other wound, even fatal,—it's death struggles would +have—I hate to think of it, Major."</p> + +<p>At the Major's questioning look he pointed toward Terry: "He shot it. +Pistol."</p> + +<p>The Major surveyed Terry steadfastly, striving for appropriate +expression of what was in his heart.</p> + +<p>Then, "Terry, I am much obliged. If I ever—if ever you—I'm much +obliged!"</p> + +<p>It was dark when they reached the house. Later they heard the +triumphant shouts which announced the arrival in the village of the +men bearing the carcass of the snake, which had haunted the +neighborhood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> for a generation. The celebration of its passing lasted +far into the night. After dinner Lindsey and Terry strolled to the +village to measure the python, and Lindsey ordered it skinned +immediately.</p> + +<p>You may still see the trophy in the Davao Club, its scaly length +stretched along the molding on two sides of the library, where the +Major asked Lindsey to place it with this legend:</p> + +<blockquote> +<pre class="note"> + This python attacked Major John Bronner, P.C., + on the Lindsey Plantation. + + Length................24 feet, 9 inches + Greatest diameter.............14 inches + + Major Bronner owes his life to the wonderful + pistol marksmanship of his friend, + + Lieut. Richard Terry, P.C. +</pre> +</blockquote> + +<p>The ride home through the dewy night stiffened the Major's sore +muscles and strained joints intolerably. Terry called in the Health +Officer, fat Doctor Merchant, who looked him over and pronounced him +uninjured, leaving some vile-smelling liniment. The Major winced under +Matak's too efficient rubbing of bruised areas.</p> + +<p>"Horse dope!" he snorted.</p> + +<p>Later, dozing, he waked to see Terry's door close and open again after +a few minutes. Puzzled as on the preceding night, he fell asleep over +the problem.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Governor Mason had dropped the Major at Davao while he went on to +Mati, planning to return for a short stop at Davao in forty-eight +hours, but as they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> finished their leisurely breakfast they heard the +whistle of his cutter approaching Davao from the south.</p> + +<p>"Wonder what's up," said the Major. "He's twelve hours ahead of his +schedule."</p> + +<p>They walked slowly to the dock, the Major still stiff-legged, arriving +just as the launch was lowered over the side of the trim white boat +which lay anchored a half-mile offshore. As the launch neared shore +they saw the Governor standing on the stern seat.</p> + +<p>He stepped up on to the little dock and greeted the Major, then turned +his smile upon Terry, apologizing:</p> + +<p>"I planned to spend a day here with you all, but have been recalled. +As usual my departure from the capitol was the signal for a dato to +start a row!"</p> + +<p>A group of officials and more prominent natives had gathered at the +pier. He shook hands with each, calling each by name, then gathered +the officials about him in a brief conference which disclosed his +grasp of conditions in the Gulf. At the end of the short discussion he +drew Terry aside.</p> + +<p>"No trouble yet with that gang of roughs—with Malabanan?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>The Governor's face bore a look Terry had not seen in it, an +unrelenting determination, a grimness: "Major Bronner has told you how +I want this matter handled?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Wait, let him make the first move, then move against +them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Exactly! I want to demonstrate for all time that this province is as +unhealthy now for criminals as during Army days!"</p> + +<p>For a moment he studied Terry keenly, then his gaze traveled over the +splendid vista of the Gulf appreciatively, mounting higher and higher +till it rested on Apo's dim crest. A moment and he turned to Terry +again, to find that he, too, was lost in a rapt contemplation of the +Hills.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant, some day ... somehow...."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Governor."</p> + +<p>The Major fidgeted uncomfortably in the presence of the two dreamers. +Two short blasts of the cutter's whistle restored the Governor's urban +manner. In a minute he and the Major had said their good-bys and were +bobbing over the little seas toward the ship.</p> + +<p>The group of Americans and natives split up as they returned toward +the town but Terry lingered at the dock watching the cutter as it got +under way and raced toward the horizon, leaving a white ribbon of wake +on the blue gulf waters. Three large bancas were approaching the +shore, belated fishermen returning with the night's catch: a fleet +vinta, bearing Moro traders, bore toward Samal, its little sail +glaring white in the actinic sunlight: the morning air was hot and +filled with the heavy odors of sea and shore. It was a fair spot, +Davao, productive, peaceful.... He looked up the coast toward the +north where Malababan had settled with his unsavory crew.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>He spent the day at the <i>cuartel</i>, correcting all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> little defects +the Major's stiff inspection had uncovered. The Macabebes responded +eagerly—they, too, wanted to be perfect. They felt trouble in the +air, scented impending combat, and Macabebes thrive on combat. +Sergeant Mercado, veteran of seven campaigns in Samar and Cavite, +drilled them tirelessly, his eyes afire with the old fighting glint. +And that night he donned his starchiest uniform, pinned on his bright +service medals, and made the round of the tiendas, throwing chests at +the black-haired girls behind the counters. Great fighting blood is +usually great loving blood.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Terry ate dinner alone. The house seemed too big without the Major. +Restless, reading failed of its usual absorption. After a while he +took up a letter the last mail had brought from Deane and reread it.</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Dear Dick</span>:—</p> + +<p>Your letter telling of transfer to the Moro Province has +just come. I had to study the map to find out where it is! +If it means advancement I am glad—though we had all hoped +that when you left Sorsogon it would be to come home.</p> + +<p>Your letters are so funny, so interesting. You write such +nice things about the natives that I am becoming fond of +them too. But the other day I read an article written by a +cynical woman who has lived in the Islands only a few +months. I read part of it to father, the part which says +that "the Filipinos are a worthless, shiftless, lazy people; +improvident, untrustworthy and immoral!" After I had read +that he thought a moment and then said:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, Deane, people are just about the same as that around +here!"</p> + +<p>Everything is going about as usual around Crampville. They +are tearing down the old watering trough in the square—it +is a nuisance to automobiles. They had some trouble over on +the South Side last week among the foreigners but Father +Jennings smoothed things out. He told me that he has a +harder time keeping them contented since you left. I learned +from him that you used to spend a good deal of your time +among them, that they idolized you.... Why did you never +talk to me about such things, Dick?</p> + +<p>Bruce is earning a great reputation but insists on staying +in Crampville. He has been called to Albany twice during the +month to perform some special operation. He finds time to +run in on us nearly every day.</p> + +<p>Susan and Ellis do not change: they are quite the happiest +couple we have—though they both do miss you terribly.</p> + +<p>You never mention the native girls. Are they attractive, +lovely? Do not let one of them fascinate you. We need you +here, Dick,—Susan and Ellis, Father Jennings, the +foreigners—all of us.</p> + +<p class="author">Deane.</p></blockquote> + +<p>His deft fingers fumbled as he folded the letter and locked it in the +drawer. Vainly smoothing at the lock of hair which always stuck out +from the crown of his head, he stared vacantly at the lamp shade, +oblivious to the entrance of the silent, morose Matak, who carried the +bottle of boiled drinking water into the bedroom and then went out for +the night.</p> + +<p>A hoarse ghekko lizard croaked its raucous six-song from a rafter +overhead: a giant bat flapped through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> an open window, fluttered, +crazy-winged, thrice about the big room and blundered through another +window into the night: the low voweled voices of native passersby +floated up from the dark street.</p> + +<p>But Terry heard nothing, nor felt the scent-laden breezes which roused +the heat-soaked town to life.... He was walking up Main Street again, +with rifle and snowshoes and fox, of a Sunday morning just as the +heavy church doors swung wide to the emerging congregation....</p> + +<p>A strong gust flickered the lamp. He rose, slid shut the exposed +window and returned to his desk. In a few moments he took pen and +paper, and wrote.</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Deane-dear</span>:—</p> + +<p>Your letters come to me across the thousands of miles of +land and sea, carried by sooty train and boat, buried in a +dross of mail in prosy canvas sacks: I open them with the +delight one feels when he brushes aside the mat of damp and +frosty withered leaves to find the timid beauty of arbutus.</p> + +<p>You think, perhaps, you might grow fond of these people? I +know that you would love this Gulf as I do. The humid heat +of the day oppresses me but little: I love the sparkling +hours of dawn, the cool of the evenings; the great tangled +stretches of green which clothe the slopes from sea to the +edge of the mountains that loom gray in the distance, like +the rim of the world. And I like the courageous planters, +toiling that the world may have its hemp: the young-old wild +tribes, emerging from their primitive mental shallows, a bit +bewildered, pathetic.</p> + +<p>Yes, I think that you would like it all, too, +though—sometimes—I am not quite sure.</p> + +<p>The mountains are not like our Vermont hills: more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> rugged, +wilder, more—what shall I say!—unsolved.... Thinking of +the home hills I can almost conceive the vast significance +of the word "eternity": but thoughts of these primeval hills +sweeps my mind backward, to the infinity of creation. +Untamed, untraveled, mysterious by day as by night, they +threaten as they beckon.</p> + +<p>Nearly every evening, near sundown, I see a pair of wild +pigeons homing toward the crest of Apo. "Limoçons," the +Bogobos call them—"leem-o-sahns": the word falls limpid +from their lips, unaccented. They say the limoçon never was +heard to sing in the lowlands, and tell a strange legend +that it is an oracle of the Hill People, its song a +harbinger of good or evil tidings.</p> + +<p>An old Bogobo woman told me of this one night, in a little +foothill village, when the spell of dusk had unlocked her +lips: and she told, whisperingly, of twice having heard the +Giant Agong of the Hill dwellers, once when she was a child, +again when she was grandmother to nineteen. I wish you could +have been there to watch and to listen: sitting near the +fire in front of her hut, surrounded by a circle of almost +naked wildmen who moved, uneasy, she told quaveringly of how +the booming tones had rumbled down the forested slopes, and +of how ill had befallen her people both times; when she +ceased, they stood breathless, their whole beings strained +to catch the dread sound none but she had ever heard. Yes, +she moved me, queerly ... I scarce know why.</p> + +<p>I am lonely—a little—at times. But who is not? Yet I have +my work to keep me busy, usually happy. Just now I am facing +less pleasant duty—but it is, I fear, a work that must be +done. It is good to know that one is needed, as I am +here,—just now.</p> + +<p>But never a day is born or dies but that I miss you all, as +I love you all ... Susan and Ellis, Father Jennings, the +foreigners ... all of you.</p> + +<p class="author">Dick.</p></blockquote> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE STRICKEN VILLAGE</h3> + + +<p>A week later, Terry stood at the window looking down over the +blistering plaza. Davao was torpid under the noonday heat. Three +carabaos grazed undisturbed on the forbidden square: another of the +awkward powerful brutes dawdled up the dusty road, hauling a decrepit +two-wheeled cart on which a naked-backed, red-pantalooned native +dozed: Padre Velasco, the aged Spanish priest, waved a weary hand at +Terry from his window in the old adobe convento. As he watched he saw +the soldierly figure of Sergeant Mercado emerge from the <i>cuartel</i> and +hurry toward him.</p> + +<p>Entering the room the soldier saluted stiffly and reported that a +patrol had just come in from the foothills with the information that a +mysterious fever had attacked the Bogobos in the barrio of Dalag, that +a score were stricken and four already dead.</p> + +<p>Terry hastened to the quarters of the Health Officer to apprise him of +the facts. He found him cursing the heat, sweating profusely, though +wearing nothing but a thin kimono. A very fat man, Doctor Merchant, +inclined to be fussy about little things but magnificent in big +things, and thoroughly imbued with the idea that his work of +protecting the natives against their own sloth and filth was the only +interesting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> problem in the universe. Alarmed at Terry's report, he +ordered his horse saddled and rose heavily to don his field clothes.</p> + +<p>Terry expostulated. "Doctor, you ought to wait till it cools off."</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant, disease spreads all the time—it takes no time off +duty—so why should I?"</p> + +<p>He came out fuming over a missing button: "Confound it all! I never +have—how do you keep so immaculate, Terry? You always look as if you +were on your way to a dinner or dance!" Wiping the perspiration from +heavy jowl and neck he lumbered about the room collecting medicine +cases, saddle bags, two big canteens, finally answering Terry's +question.</p> + +<p>"No, you can't go with me—if I need you I'll send for you."</p> + +<p>Terry followed him downstairs and helped him mount the ridiculously +small pony, then watched the sweating, cussing, bighearted doctor ride +out into the sun on his errand of mercy. As the tough little pony bore +his heavy burden into the trail and out of sight in the brush, Terry +decided humorously that Casey was right—bigger ponies were needed.</p> + +<p>During the afternoon the <i>Francesca</i> had limped in and out of port. +Among his official mail Terry received a confidential memorandum from +Major Bronner that erased the softer lines about his mouth:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="letterDate">Zamboanga, 12/18/191-.</p> + +<p>Memo for Lieut. Terry.</p> + +<p>Last night a notorious criminal, Ignacio Sakay, passed +through Zamboanga enroute to Davao.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sakay was identified with Malabanan in some of the latter's +most vicious undertakings, was convicted of brigandage and +has been but recently released from Bilibid Prison.</p> + +<p>Sakay is not a leader but is bold and absolutely relentless. +Among the natives he was known as "Malabanan's stiletto," +and was supposed to do all of the killing.</p> + +<p>You may look for immediate action from these men: Malabanan +has doubtless been awaiting his arrival.</p> + +<p>Destroy this memorandum.</p> + +<p class="author">Bronner.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Terry read the terse communication twice before lighting it with a +match and scattering the charred remnants over the polished mahogany +floor. He passed a grim afternoon with the Macabebes on the target +range, where the scorers wagged bull's eye after bull's eye, for +twenty-seven of the Macabebes were expert riflemen, forty-three were +marksmen.</p> + +<p>He saw that Matak, serving dinner, was gripped in one of the +smoldering moods that often preyed upon him. Though his attentions to +his master were even more meticulous than usual, he moved with an air +of somber detachment. Terry had often pondered on the history of the +queer Moro and now he studied him as he cleared the dishes and lighted +the desk lamp.</p> + +<p>"Matak," he said.</p> + +<p>The Moro came to him, his melancholy eyes fixed steadfastly upon the +master of his choice.</p> + +<p>"Matak, you know that I have never asked you anything about your past +life. I am not going to ask you now, unless there is something in +which I can be of help to you."</p> + +<p>Matak faced his master, his brown features Moro-masked,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> inscrutable. +A moment he searched the concerned countenance, then before Terry +understood his purpose, the tight muscles of his face relaxed and he +slid forward to kneel on one knee and raise Terry's hand to his lips +in the Moros' final homage to an <i>apo</i>—a self-chosen master. Rising, +he exposed a face stripped of its mask of Oriental imperturbability.</p> + +<p>"Master," he said, "I tell you. No other knows. When I am small +boy—twelve years old—my family live east coast Basilan. Very happy +family, master: father, mother, sister, me; three carabaos we have, a +little house, chickens, a little <i>vinta</i> in which to fish—everything +Moro family want. We hurt nobody, just work.</p> + +<p>"One night, very late," his face darkened, "men come. They steal +carabaos, everything. My father wake up, go out to see, and they +laugh—and kill him. I—a little boy—see them do it: see them kill my +father—with bolos. Then they kill my mother—the same man—the same +bolo. I see that, too: they say she too old, and they laugh." He spoke +slowly, hesitating before each short sentence, his black eyes dulled +with the terrible memories.</p> + +<p>"My sister—she sixteen years old—they take her away. They take me, +too, because I soon be strong boy to work. My sister—they say she +pretty girl!" He raised his hand in unutterable execration.</p> + +<p>"We sail all night, all day. Second night, I hear my sister scream, +see her fighting with same big Filipino who kill my father and mother. +Another Filipino hold me away, laughing ... always I know that laugh, +master!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She Moro girl, he Filipino, so she fight hard—she rather die. She +hurt him, so he draw knife, kill her, and throw her in sea: then other +Filipino holding me hit me with bolo and throw me in too."</p> + +<p>He whipped off his thin cotton camisa and exposed a deep scar which +furrowed his left shoulder. It had severed the clavicle, and +improperly knit, drew the left arm slightly forward.</p> + +<p>"I swim ashore, two miles, to Lassak. Next morning I take boat, find +sister, bury her on beach. I, twelve years old, master."</p> + +<p>He paused, a picture of implacable hatred and purpose.</p> + +<p>"Master, I see Filipino who kill all three my family. He born with +left eye all white. I know him any time, any place. That nine years +ago. Nine years I no laugh, no sing, no play, no talk with Moro girls, +no marry—just listen—just look; listen for that laugh, look for big +Filipino with left white eye. Nine years I no tell anybody, just +listen, just look. I never find.</p> + +<p>"But now I know I find him, soon. For I know you help Matak, master."</p> + +<p>He had read the distressed white face correctly. Terry rose, placed +his hand upon the Moro's shoulder—the scarred shoulder—and looked +down into his now emotionless face:</p> + +<p>"Yes, Matak, I will help," he said simply.</p> + +<p>Content, the Moro turned silently on his bare heels and padded out +into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Usually Terry strolled the dark streets before going to bed, but +to-night a heavy downpour kept him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> indoors. Outside, the square was +loud with the drum-fire of the heavy fall on iron roofs, the rush of +water through shallow dirt gutters; inside, the big house roared, the +roof trembled overhead. He paced the floor, sleepless, worried with +thinking of Matak's terrible story, of the Doctor striving to succor +the stricken village, of Sakay's joining Malabanan.</p> + +<p>There was another worry, too. Though there was nothing in the +eternally verdant land in which he was living to make the fact seem +real, the calendar indicated that Christmas was less than two weeks +distant, and for the first time since the days when she had first +intruded upon his boyish consciousness as something different, +something wondrously dear and fine and unattainable, he had sent Deane +nothing.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>He was awakened before daylight by the arrival of a spent Bogobo +runner bearing a note from Doctor Merchant:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Dear Lieut:—</p> + +<p>Can you come to Dalag for a day? These people are +panic-stricken, won't do a thing I order, won't take +treatment, but are trying to exorcise the devils of disease +by all sorts of queer rites.</p> + +<p>I hate to ask you to come but your influence among them is +so great that it seems justifiable to ask it.</p> + +<p>If you do come, bring your mosquito net—don't fail to do +this. The disease is mosquito-borne, and fatal if untreated. +The temperature runs are terrific—highest I ever saw.</p> + +<p class="author">Merchant.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Terry rode out of Davao at seven o'clock, bound<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> for Dalag. Within a +mile he overtook Lindsey, who had spent the night in town. They rode +together several miles to where the trail, soaked with the night's +rain, forked toward Lindsey's plantation: the sun shone white hot, the +earth steamed through its mat of decayed vegetation.</p> + +<p>They drew rein at the fork, dismounted. Lindsey broke the silence in +which they had ridden following Terry's brief explanation of his +mission.</p> + +<p>"Terry," he said, "you're too young for all this worry."</p> + +<p>Terry's face relaxed into a slow grin: "Lindsey, how old are you?"</p> + +<p>"But your work is different—and you are different, Terry."</p> + +<p>Terry's bantering grin gave way to a smile of singular sweetness, the +queer smile which deepened the depression at the corner of his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Lindsey, I know what you mean, I think.... All my friends—"</p> + +<p>He paused, gently discouraging his pony from its persistent nibbling +at his arm. Lindsey waited, hoping he would continue, but Terry looked +away, idly studying the thickly planted hemp fields that extended from +the fork to Lindsey's house, a mile distant. The still wet leaves +flaunted on great stalks fifteen feet above the wonderfully fertile +soil.</p> + +<p>"Lindsey, I wonder if you really appreciate what you are doing in +taming a soil that was wild in jungle ages before Pharaoh's time, and +making it useful to man."</p> + +<p>He pointed to the huge plant nearest them; "The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> fibers in those +stalks—I can see them, woven into a rope that may warp a steamer to +dock in Tripoli or Hoboken or Archangel: or fashioned by happy +Japanese fingers into braided hats to cover lovely heads in Picadilly +or Valparaiso or Montreal: or woven into a cord which will fly a kite +for some tousle-headed boy in Michigan or for a slant-eyed urchin on +the banks of the Yang-Tse Kiang: or, somewhere, it may be looped into +ugliest knot by a grim figure standing on a scaffold—though I hope +not!"</p> + +<p>Lindsey had listened in curious wonderment to this conception of his +work. He thought it over, laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well, maybe that's what you see, Lieutenant,—but I see wild pigs +rooting up my immature plants, lack of labor, poor transportation, +fluctuations of price, typhoons undoing a whole year's work—take my +word for it, I see aplenty!"</p> + +<p>Terry tightened the girth, tickling the knowing pony's nose till a +sneeze compelled contraction of the expanded chest. Mounted, he seemed +loath to go, and twisted in the saddle to look down at Lindsey.</p> + +<p>"About what you said a moment back—that I was 'different.' All my +friends have always been like that—wanted to look after me, somehow, +though I can look after myself, pretty well. I never quite understood +why they felt like that ... about me. So, I know what you meant, +Lindsey. And I want you to know that—that I like it."</p> + +<p>Lindsey gripped his outstretched hand, then stood at the fork watching +the slender rider thread through the maze of the trail out of sight. +Mounting, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> started homeward along the edge of the field trying to +interpret the strange appeal this young officer had exerted over him, +this quiet lad whose very competence and cheerfulness he somehow found +pathetic. He involuntarily halted his pony as solution came to him.</p> + +<p>"Why, curl my cowlick!" he exclaimed aloud. "That's it—he was BORN +lonely!"</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Terry rode into Dalag at noon and found the doctor even redder and +hotter than usual. The perspiration glistened on his hands and wrists, +dripped from his fat face and neck, and his once-starched clothes hung +limp from his rolypoly frame. Worn with loss of sleep and fruitless +efforts to bring the frightened Bogobos to reason, he welcomed Terry +weariedly to the little hut that had been sat aside for his use.</p> + +<p>Terry took command, so quietly that the doctor did not realize it. A +few brief questions elicited the measures the doctor wished put into +effect, simple curative methods and preventive precautions. +Understanding, Terry started out, but was recalled by the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant, did you bring your mosquito net?" At Terry's affirmative +nod he continued: "It's a good thing you did—the village is swarming +with nightflyers, and every one of them is loaded to the hilt with +plasmodiae!"</p> + +<p>The village, a mere scattering of crudest huts along the river front, +seemed deserted, but from nearly every hut came the low wailings of +the sick and the frightened. Noting that the lamentations had ceased a +few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> minutes after Terry went out, the doctor stepped to the door and +watched his progress from shack to shack, saw how the picturesque +little savages grouped about him. They knew him and listened to him +confidently, so that the parboiled doctor was as much disgusted as +pleased with the ease with which Terry secured the cooperation for +which he had begged and stormed in vain.</p> + +<p>Under his direction they cut down all of the plant life whose upturned +leaves or fronds held stagnant, mosquito-breeding water, climbed tall +palms to brush out the rain water accumulated in the concave +depressions where frond joins trunk, even twisted off the cuplike +scarlet blossoms from hibiscus shrubs. They carried green brush to a +series of smudges he lit to cordon the village against the vicious +singing horde of germ carriers. Best of all, they ceased their +incantations over the sick, unwound the tight cords they had knotted +around the abdomens of the stricken to prevent the fever from "going +further down," opened the grass windows that gasping lungs might +obtain decent air, and swallowed the doctor's hitherto neglected +medicines.</p> + +<p>There were no chickens in the village, no eggs. The doctor bemoaned +the lack of nourishment for his sick. So Terry summoned four of the +ablest hunters and disappeared into the woods for an hour, returning +with a young buck speared through the lungs and shot mercifully +through the head. In an hour a big pot was boiling in the middle of +the street that throughout the night the sufferers might receive hot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +soup made up of venison, yams, eggplant and rice, all that the village +afforded.</p> + +<p>Doctor Merchant, watching the transformation, marveled at the method +of persuasion. There was no attempt at exercise of authority, no +raising of voice, no gestures, only patient explanation, an assumption +of mutual friendliness, a sincere and ample sympathy.</p> + +<p>Shortly after sundown the doctor, exhausted with the worry and stress +of the hours before Terry came, distributed his bulk as comfortably as +possible on the bamboo floor, tucked in his mosquito net very +carefully, and fell into a heavy sleep, too exhausted to await Terry's +return.</p> + +<p>It was as well that the doctor did not await him, for Terry spent half +of the night by a fire kindled at the base of a big tree in front of +the chief's abode. Seated on a stump near the blaze, surrounded by a +ring of half-nude Bogobos whose timid eyes seldom wandered from his +face, he answered their questions and erased the last vestiges of the +panic into which the epidemic had precipitated the villagers.</p> + +<p>Interrogation at an end, he still stayed on with them. The flickering +blaze lighted the circle of little brown folk, each flare gleaming on +an eye here, glinting there on beaded jacket or brass trinkets with +which both men and women were adorned. The first mad panic had abated, +but Death had stalked through the settlement six times in as many +days, and they listened superstitiously for the stark Tread through +the woods which hemmed them in. Each whispering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> wind that stirred the +leaves overhead brought a deeper silence, each wail from delirious +sufferers in nearby huts tightened the little circle.</p> + +<p>The quavering gutturals of a half-blind old woman, wrinkled and +shrivelled with a number of years no man could estimate, jarred the +dumb circle.</p> + +<p>"My years are as the scales of a fish. Each year has brought wisdom. +Listen."</p> + +<p>It was the invariable preface of a Bogobo legend. Terry stirred: it +was the old woman who had told him of the Giant Agong.</p> + +<p>"This sickness takes not many more of our people. The white men will +stop it. Trust them. These white men are Bogobo friends. These white +men are strong, wise, honest. White is better blood than brown blood. +Yes. The Hill People knew this."</p> + +<p>At the mention of the dread folk the group of tribesmen moved +uneasily. A young hunter nervously stirred the flagging fire into +brighter blaze as the old woman went on:</p> + +<p>"Yes. The Hill People knew. Have you forgotten how the Giant Agong +rang the night the Spaniards lost their girl-child?</p> + +<p>"No. You have not forgotten. The Hill People took her—they wanted +white blood in the veins of future chiefs. They knew what white blood +means—the Hill People know!"</p> + +<p>Curiously thrilled by the simple legend, Terry moved nearer to the old +woman.</p> + +<p>"Grandmother, how many years ago was this?"</p> + +<p>"Years? Years? I know naught of your white man's years, but this I +know—it happened during<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> the rains before the dark-eyed white men +gave way to the blue-eyed white men."</p> + +<p>Interpreting this as referring to the departure of the Spanish troops, +he gently pressed her for further details. But she was finished.</p> + +<p>It was dawn when the doctor rose. Groaning in the agony of the fat man +who wakes stiff from the discomfort of an unaccustomed hard bed, he +sat up, then forgot his miseries in a new worry as he saw Terry asleep +under the open window, wrapped in his saddle blanket but without the +protection of a mosquito net. He cursed, stopping midway in his +vehement outburst to cock his head at the absurd angle in which men +think their ears function best. As he heard the ominous drone of the +insects his experience had taught him to fear more than wild beasts, +he scrambled to his feet with amazing celerity.</p> + +<p>A light sleeper, Terry awakened and lay regarding him quizzically, +enthusiastically dissecting the stream of invective the doctor poured +upon him for sleeping without his net. Suddenly sensing the +responsibility the doctor felt in having summoned him to the village, +Terry explained his lack of a net.</p> + +<p>"Doctor, I gave my net to the chief's wife: she—she is about to +become a mother, and she had none."</p> + +<p>"Hell's bells! What Bogobo woman isn't about to become a mother?" he +stormed, refusing to concede the justice of the act. "'She had +none'—and probably didn't use yours!"</p> + +<p>He was facing the window, past which the chief, arrayed in all his +half-naked splendor of beads and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> brass, sauntered with an air of +confidence quite different from his terror of the past week.</p> + +<p>"There goes the chief, Terry, all fancied up like a bathroom on a +German liner! But he has no pants—why don't you give him yours? He +'has none'! You make me—"</p> + +<p>He stormed on and on. Terry, still wrapped in his blanket, sat before +him looking up with an absurdly rapt air as of a student at his +master's feet. Merchant stopped to swab the thick perspiration from +his face, laughed at Terry's humbugging pose, and desisted. Terry +slipped on his shoes, buckled on the leather leggings he had used as a +pillow and picking up his saddlebags went out to clean up at the +river.</p> + +<p>Finding on his return that the doctor was again genuinely disturbed +over his exposure to the disease, he sought to divert him. He sneezed +violently, and as the doctor listened with professional interest he +followed it with a series which mounted in volume and vigor. Merchant +eyed him solicitously.</p> + +<p>"You've caught a bad cold, Lieutenant."</p> + +<p>"Yes." Terry snuffled and drew his handkerchief. "It was awfully damp +in here last night."</p> + +<p>"Damp? How could it be damp in an open shack this time of year?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it was. A regular mist!" He sneezed explosively, then took a +few short turns about the little hut in search of the cause of his +malady.</p> + +<p>The doctor watched him, interested. Bending suddenly, Terry held aloft +the perspiration-soaked nightshirt which the doctor affected.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Eureka!" he exclaimed, dramatically, then dodged the shoe the hoaxed +doctor let drive at his head.</p> + +<p>After an hour's investigation of conditions in the village the doctor +was convinced that he could now handle the situation alone and +insisted upon Terry's returning home. His parting injunctions were +worried.</p> + +<p>"Now Lieutenant, you watch yourself closely for several days and if +you display fever symptoms, you send for me."</p> + +<p>After Terry had ridden down the river bank and into the long homeward +trail, the doctor's overworked conscience smote him hard:</p> + +<p>"Hell's bells! I never thanked him for coming!"</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>MALABANAN STRIKES</h3> + + +<p>Next morning Terry rose as the first sleepy cock challenged the +pink-streaked day. Shaving in the dim light, he watched the plaza +merge out of its darkness and fill with the natives passing listlessly +to field or waterfront. A few short minutes and the day arrived hot +and still: hens sauntered forth to begin their tireless, day-long, +scratching search: bony curs, sleepy after their instinctive vigils +through the night, made couches in the dusty road: across from where +Terry stood at his bedroom window, the four daughters of his Tagalog +neighbor sat in a little circle on a sunny bamboo porch structure, +each intently examining another's loosened hair in a community search +for—well, for whatever might be found.</p> + +<p>By nine o'clock he had snapped the company through a sharp drill and +by noon had finished the weekly inspection. The afternoon passed in +preparation of monthly reports scheduled to go on the mailboat +expected in that evening. It is the function of the Constabulary to +know everything that transpires: health conditions, state of crops, +appearance of any strangers, activities of native demagogues, +movements of suspicious characters, morale of the people.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> Everything +is observed and reported, and summarized at headquarters to form the +basis for intelligent handling of a difficult problem.</p> + +<p>Of the epidemic he wrote: "A disease identified as a particularly +virulent form of pernicious malaria appeared last week among the +Bogobos in the barrio of Dalag. The Health Officer is on the scene and +in conference with the undersigned decided that the use of our troops +for quarantine duty was not necessary. It appears that he has the +disease under control."</p> + +<p>Under the heading "Recommendations" he set down: "Request that the old +provincial archives be searched to ascertain if a Spanish family +living in this Gulf during the last months of Spanish occupation +suffered the loss, by abduction, of a female infant. An interesting +story to this effect has been communicated to me by Bogobos, who +attribute the crime to the Hill People."</p> + +<p>The mailboat limped in early in the afternoon, waking the torpid town +into semblance of interested activity during the brief duration of its +stay. But before she had disappeared over the horizon native Davao had +relapsed into stupid placidity, and the Chinos had stored the meager +cargoes dropped for them—print goods, cigarettes, matches, rice, a +few small agongs, and, probably, a little opium. The lethargy of the +tropics during the hot hours is entire and complete: the angel Gabriel +himself will fail of unanimous native response unless he toots his +cheerful summons during the cool hours between dusk to dawn.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<p>Terry still sat in the cool orderly room at the cuartel, energetically +clearing his desk of the last accumulations of the paper work he found +a chore, when the dapper sergeant entered with his mail. Sorting +quickly through the dozen official envelopes in anxious search for one +addressed in the neat hand that always quickened his pulses, he +discovered, miserably, that there was none from her. Fighting off the +discouraged feeling that accompanied lapses in her correspondence with +him, he slowly opened a letter from Ellis. Ellis' letters, few in +number, had always been cheerful but brief statements of how matters +went on at home, usually business affairs. He put Ellis' letter in his +blouse pocket to read after dinner, then attacked the pile of official +mail: he wanted no unfinished office work to keep him in the morrow, +as he planned another quiet look at Malabanan's place. When the +Sergeant bore in the lighted lamp Terry ordered him to have the launch +ready at daylight.</p> + +<p>Night had wrapped the town when he crossed the plaza to his quarters. +Matak, silent as ever but of more cheerful countenance, set the table. +At his second laconic announcement Terry rose and crossed to the +dinner table, and as he seated himself a white missile was tossed +through the open window by an unseen hand and landed with a thud on +the bare floor. Matak brought it to him, and unwrapping the paper from +about the pebble Terry read the note. It was from the secreto whom he +had planted near Malabanan's plantation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>Sir:</p> + +<p>At eight o'clock last night Malabanan left here with a +newcomer named Sakay and 22 of his "laborers."</p> + +<p>From my post I could not see if they were armed.</p> + +<p>They have not yet returned. (9 <span class="smcap">a.m.</span>)</p> + +<p>I will follow in banca. They sailed south in a large lorcha.</p> + +<p>Will report further when I return.</p> + +<p class="author">"47"</p></blockquote> + +<p>Leaving his unfinished dinner, he paced the floor. The midnight +departure of Malabanan with his chief lieutenant and a majority of his +followers might mark the beginning of outlawry, or it might be a +legitimate excursion into the deepsea fisheries. Yet the secreto had +said nothing of nets, and a party of twenty-four men would be in each +others' way. Terry hastened over to the cuartel, checked up the patrol +chart, then called the Sergeant, who verified the position and route +of each of the two-man patrols who were covering the countryside. +Satisfied that his men would discover and report the landing of any +strangers within a few hours after they touched soil, Terry returned +to the house.</p> + +<p>He sat on the wide ledge of the window, thinking. The night seemed +unusually warm despite the stiffening breeze which blew off the Gulf; +he opened the collar of his blouse.... Where was Malabanan—what was +he doing? He saw a man's form outlined against the bright Club window +and answered the arm waved at him: it looked like Lindsey, he +thought.... "Give 'em plenty of rope and if they make a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> break—Smash +'em!" He shivered at the thought of sighting a gun against a fellow +man, and again in sudden rush of memory of the night in Zamboanga.... +He saw Lindsey appear again at the Club window to peer in his +direction, then turn abruptly. In a moment he saw him leave the Club +and cross the plaza, hatless.... Deane—why had no letter come—he had +expected one, wanted one....</p> + +<p>He slid off the window ledge as Lindsey came in, sincere and direct as +usual.</p> + +<p>"Terry," he began, "I saw you sitting here alone and came over to ask +you to join us at the Club."</p> + +<p>"I can't, Lindsey."</p> + +<p>Lindsey studied the unusually pallid skin: "Why not?" he demanded. +"You're working too hard, Terry, and worrying too hard. Let's forget +it all for an hour or two!"</p> + +<p>"I'm much obliged, Lindsey, but I can't come to-night."</p> + +<p>"The fellows asked me to get you, Terry. They think it is queer you +come so seldom."</p> + +<p>Understanding something of Terry's weariness of spirit he strove hard +to persuade him to spend the evening in the pleasant Club, but was +unsuccessful. Desisting, he talked a few minutes with Terry and then +left, a little embarrassed, wholly disappointed.</p> + +<p>Alone again, Terry slumped into a big cane chair drawn up by the +table. His cheeks burned; he thought, vaguely, that he must have +shaved too closely. Loosening his stiffly starched blouse, he crackled +the letter from Ellis, opened it without much interest: then his whole +being tensed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="letterDate">Crampville, Nov. 23, 191-.</p> + +<p>Dear Dick:</p> + +<p>Everything lovely here—and things are going to pick up with +you when you read this!</p> + +<p>Yesterday Deane's father came in the bank and asked to see +me confidentially. Thinking he had come on bank business I +took him into my private office. Well, he just sat there +facing me for several minutes, not knowing how to begin. You +would have thought he had been robbing a train or something, +he looked so absurdly guilty!</p> + +<p>I just sat there watching him, taking a most unchristian joy +in his trouble, whatever it was: I have had it in for him +ever since—since you know what. I liked the way his Adam's +apple chased up and down his throat.</p> + +<p>Finally he swallowed hard and began: "Ellis, I came over +to—to ask you to—to send over that fox skin that Terry +gave Deane last Christmas."</p> + +<p>Just like that! It sure was a pill for the old boy to +swallow but he went the whole hog like the old Puritan he +is. Once started he kept going, though still phased. Said +that he was glad that you had found something worth doing +and were doing it well, that he took a lot of interest in +your goings-on—as he called it—and that Deane always read +your letters aloud. And the last thing he said before he +went out was that he hoped you would soon get spunk enough +to write her some letters she "wouldn't dast read out loud!"</p> + +<p>He said THAT about my brother-in-law! Great leaping frogs! +What is the matter with you?</p> + +<p>Get busy! Write—and make 'em sizzle!</p> + +<p class="author">Ellis.</p> + +<p>P.S.—I forgot to say that I am sure she made him come to +see me. Also that Sue took the skin over last night. And +also that Bruce is more than professionally interested in +the nurse he imported from Albany to look after his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> office. +It has been some time since he hung around Hunter's—and as +to why, I do not know, but I sure am some little guesser!</p></blockquote> + +<p>Terry had never questioned the decision he thought she had made that +Christmas eve in returning the fox skin, had thought it hers, and +final. As the burden of a year fell from him he sat quietly, smoothing +at his stubborn, crown lock, the wistful twist of mouth ironed out by +a faint smile. He bent to read the letter again but after a few lines +the words were blurred out by a salty rush to his steady gray eyes. +Rising, he went into his bedroom and closed the door quietly behind +him, emerging in a few minutes. Perfect peace lay in his eyes and they +shone with the light that will never die in this world as long as men +live, and women.</p> + +<p>Two days to Christmas, he thought, and he had sent her no remembrance. +He stood at the window, tasting the cool thickness of the evening, +breathing the fragrance of ylang-ylang: leaf and frond, stirred by the +monsoon, purred in gentle contact. In the starlight the old stone +church outlined its old-world, old-time architecture in friendly +shadows which veiled the pitiful scars and age-stains: the bamboo +shacks across the square—wry, flimsy, smutted by a hotly jealous +sun—had yielded to the magic of the night to become little golden +houses in which the fairies abode till the morning stars should fade.</p> + +<p>A present for her ... he pondered long, the while he stifled his +desire to go outside and shout the joy that tugged at his restraint. +Suddenly he started,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> tightened as the idea fastened upon him, then +fairly ran to his desk. A hurried search for cable blanks and he wrote +in desperate haste that consumed four misused forms before he +accomplished an intelligible message:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>Miss Deane Hunter, Crampville, Vermont.</p> + +<p>Christmas greetings from palmed coast to snowy shore. Please +cable will you accept so humble a Christmas offering as an +equal share in the future of one</p> + +<p class="author">Richard Terry.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Buttoning his blouse as he ran, he raced down out of the house and +over to his orderly room, where he typed the message and sent it out +by a soldier. The dozen Macabebes lounging in the <i>cuartel</i>, who had +sprung to attention when he passed, stared at him and then at each +other—this joyous, whistling boy was new to them! He crossed the dark +plaza: natives, looking out of raised windows, wondered who that +Americano was who walked in and out of the shadows of the great +acacias, singing:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When in thy dreaming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moons like these shall shine again:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Being natives they did not understand the English words, but being +natives and instinctively attuned to the most ancient of emotions that +throbbed in the low baritone, they listened silently and stared out +into the night long after the singer had passed.</p> + +<p>He reached the house, hesitated. Lindsey had said that the fellows +wanted him to come over to the Club<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> ... he had neglected +opportunities to be with these good friends. He sailed his cap up +through an open window and crossing a corner of the square went up +into the gayly lighted building.</p> + +<p>That night at the Club became a sort of tradition in the Gulf. They +still tell, wonderingly, of how he entered—a laughing, mischievous, +fun-loving boy, and of how the crowd welcomed this new Terry that none +of them had ever known before. They talk, still, of his deviltries, +the clean jests and keen wit he whetted—always at his own expense, +and as rough old Burns put it the next morning when they talked it +over: "And he niver took a drink and he niver cussed once, I'll be +---- if he did!" As the story of Terry's night at Club spread over the +Gulf all of the planters found excuses to bring them into town +afternoons in the hope of being present when he came again. They rode +in by pony or launch every night for two weeks, and then they ceased +coming.</p> + +<p>For two hours he held them in the spell of his infectious deviltries. +Irrepressibly gay, impish, it seemed as if he vented all of the stored +up boyishness in him, spilled it in one heaping measure. Story +followed story, in quickly shifting brogues that rocked the building +with the sidesore laughter of the transported audience; they followed +him through a seemingly inexhaustible series of anecdote, through a +dozen ridiculous parodies he sang to a one-handed accompaniment +chorded on the battered piano the while he pantomimed with free hand +and roguish face.</p> + +<p>"Why," whispered the astonished Cochran, "the—the—son of a gun!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<p>The uproar stilled suddenly as, seated at the old piano, he forgot +them for a moment, saw a vision on the white wall that was not visible +to the others. A few deep chords from knowing fingers, then his low +voice, rich with the depth of his happiness:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love, to share again those winged scented days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those starry skies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see once more your joyous face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your tender eyes ...<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The song, or something in the deep voice, pulled at the heart-strings +of those lonely men, who, womenless, never discussed women. Burns +sniffled, then glared belligerently at the others.</p> + +<p>Cochran whispered to Lindsey: "Just what is there about—about that +boy? Is it because he's so pale?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's it—you poor fish! But it's about time you quit pinching +my arm—it's getting numb!"</p> + +<p>Flushing slightly in realization of his lapse, Terry had sprung +astraddle the corner of the billiard table, where, absurdly solemn, he +declaimed tragically, combing the classics for sepulchral passages, +plunging the intent listeners into deepest melancholy but concluding +with a droll extemporization that swept them from verge of tears to +convulsed mirth.</p> + +<p>Lindsey, flinging a laughter-helpless arm across a call-bell, rang an +inadvertent summons to the steward that cost him the price of the +drinks and gave Terry a breathing spell. He sat astride the billiard +table under the acetylene lights, vainly trying to smooth down his +scalplock, his eyes dancing in eager enjoyment of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> the hour and of the +friends who crowded around him in affectionate amazement, laughing and +shouting at each other and at him.</p> + +<p>Cochran's voice rose above the clamor of the room in a raucous whoop. +They all turned toward where he stood near the bulletin board reading +a message he had just torn down.</p> + +<p>He waved the sheet joyously: "I saw the steward tacking it up a minute +ago—it just arrived—from Casey. He couldn't wait to tell us—the +long awaited day has come for Casey!"</p> + +<p>He bent with laughter, then straightened and sobered to read it aloud.</p> + +<p>"Casey talks like the Congressional Record but he sure minces his +written words. Listen.</p> + +<blockquote><p>Davao Club, Davao.</p> + +<p>Horray! American mare had a filly colt last night. Also +sixteen pigs by Berkshire boar.</p> + +<p class="author">Casey.</p></blockquote> + +<p>A roar of merriment greeted the phraseology in which Casey had +hurriedly couched the double event of his day of days. The terse—too +terse—message passed from hand to hand till it reached Terry. He +studied it, his head cocked to one side like a puppy's and with +something of a puppy's quizzical expression. A moment and he slid +slowly from the billiard table and crossed to the corner of the room +where a typewriter had been placed for the convenience of club +members.</p> + +<p>They watched him, glancing uncertainly at each other, as he inserted a +sheet of paper, spelled out a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> few hesitating words, then jerked it +out, crumpled it in his hand. Slipping in a fresh sheet he started +slowly, pausing, rapt, after each few works. As line followed line the +room became quiet save for the click of the machine, the planters +eyeing each other, waiting impatiently for disclosure of the new +deviltry his whole attitude betokened. Pausing after each few lines to +seek inspiration at the roots of his thick tumbled hair, he wrote for +about fifteen minutes.</p> + +<p>Then, tearing out the sheet, he mounted the chair and with a face +owlish in its affectation of heavy wisdom, he thrust his hand in his +blouse in classic barnstorming attitude and read his creation.</p> + +<p class="heading">"CASEY"</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The palm-fringed gulf of fair Davao—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The garden-spot of Mindanao—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has been the Theater where Surprise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has pried apart our mouth and eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But bounteous Nature, in her last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has all her former deeds surpassed!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What now are Burbank's grafting deeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Marconi's stunts, whose genius speeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A message on a wireless tack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes of space a jumping-jack?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where now does Edison hold sway?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or radium's finder, Pierre Curié?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Does not this deed alone suffice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To render all that men or mice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have wrought since days of Tubal Cain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Infinitesimal, and vain?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No man before has seen a dam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Provide the rudiments for a ham.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not content with razor-backs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Produce a quota for the tracks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It seems like thistles yielding figs—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A blooded mare with sixteen pigs!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Truth receives a serious jolt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find the seventeenth a colt!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can anything on earth compare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With this performance of a mare?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But hold! For while I eulogize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is another claims a prize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And puts to shame all gone before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I mean this humble Yankee boar!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What lowly hog did yet aspire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ribboned fame as race-track sire?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Consult the annals of all time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great deeds extolled in prose and rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delve deep in Clio's treasured store,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exhaust encyclopedic lore—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You will not find in one edition<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hint of such high pig-ambition!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Had he but lived in days gone by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Richard raised his voice on high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And offered Kingdom for a Horse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him he might have had recourse....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Imagine bristly Berkshire swine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the throne of Cœur de Lion!!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, while we give our meed of praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To those who would these isles upraise,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forget not him who planned all that—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For it was Casey at the bat!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forget not him whose Celtic head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outdid, when all is done or said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That classic stunt—the herculean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Minerva sprung from Jovian bean!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where else but in the Philippines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid these sunny tropic scenes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lull the senses into rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could come this genius of the West?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, not content with colt and swine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He must produce domestic kine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To heap the brimming measure full<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He perpetrates an Irish Bull!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Finished, he still stood on the chair, frankly happy in the uproarious +response to his effort to amuse them.</p> + +<p>The clamor subsided in a sudden and almost incredulous appreciation of +his swift composing: and in the momentary silence during which they +gazed at the happy, laughing boy, a pair of heavy shod feet sounded on +the bare stairway—loud, hurried.</p> + +<p>All eyes shifted from where Terry stood on the chair to the stern +visaged Macabebe sergeant who had stopped in the open doorway. He +hesitated a moment, then urgency overbore his instinct against +violation of the white man's domain, and he stepped toward his chief.</p> + +<p>Terry met him in the center of the room. The Macabebe saluted, then +reported in a savage grating voice that carried clear to every +startled ear.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sir, Patrol Number Seven reports that ladrones raided Ledesma's +plantation at one o'clock last night: killed one servant, stole all of +Ledesma's carabaos and money, and stole his daughter."</p> + +<p>Malabanan had dared! The ladrones had struck!</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>MALABANAN</h3> + + +<p>Terry's pace across the plaza taxed Mercado's shorter legs. He was +surprised that Malabanan's move came almost as a relief after the +weeks of anxious waiting. Scoffing the Constabulary, they had sought +to test the strength of the new government ... "if they make a +break—Smash 'em!" He whirled, taut, as they reached his quarters, and +the battle-loving veteran thrilled with delight as he caught the hard +ring of voice.</p> + +<p>"Sergeant, I'll be ready in ten minutes—you will go with me to +Ledesma's plantation—have the ponies saddled. Double every patrol +along the coast. Send the launch out at once to scour the gulf for +information about a fifty-foot lorcha—add four soldiers to the +regular crew: if they sight or learn of this lorcha they are to return +at once and report the facts—they are not to engage. Retain in the +post twenty of your very best men, under full field equipment ready to +move instantly. Issue extra ammunition. Understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!" He about-faced and hurried on his mission, eager, joyful. +This was the life!</p> + +<p>Terry ran upstairs, turned up the light, ripped off his white clothes +and slipped into riding clothes and flannel shirt. As he buckled on +his belt and hooked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> in canteen and holster, he heard the Sergeant +galloping down the street with his led horse. A swift inspection of +the mechanism of his big automatic, four extra clips added to the +belt, and he ran downstairs as the Macabebe drew up.</p> + +<p>Reaching the beach they turned south, riding fast through the chill +darkness, Mercado keeping his pony a length behind Terry's nervous +gray. They had covered several miles before the sun rose from behind +Samal, gray-pinked sky and sea for a brief bewitching moment, then +swept the low hanging mists from gulf and mountain, and smote, +full-powered, upon the sandy shore down which they rode. The tireless +ponies—crooked of leg but splendid of head and eye in true +indications of their heritage of coarse Chinese and fine Arabian +bloods—toiled steadily over the high-tide beach, sinking coronet deep +in the soaked sand, their footprints disappearing almost as they +lifted hoofs. Courageous, the little animals scrambled over the coral +formations that blocked their path, picked their way, delicately, +through sour mangrove swamps: once, unsaddled, they swam a wide +tide-deepened creek that the riders crossed, bridle reins in hand, in +a small dugout which they found on the bank.</p> + +<p>Their sharp shadows had shortened a third when they swung up from the +beach and trotted down the unkempt street of Sabaga. A chorus of +howls, set up by bony, slinking curs of the type that infest all +native villages, announced their presence but there was no sign of +life in any of the shambling bamboo houses. The village seemed +deserted.</p> + +<p>They pulled up, the Sergeant pointing significantly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> at the carabaos +tied up under the high perched huts. Terry understood: fear of the +ladrones had paralyzed the natives. As he studied the closed windows +and doors, sensed the terror of these defenseless, harmless people, a +cold hatred of the spoilers narrowed his steel-gray eyes. They were +about to press on when the quiet of the town was suddenly broken by a +cry sounded from a house behind them:</p> + +<p>"<i>El Soltario! El Constabulario!</i>"</p> + +<p>The exultant shout was taken up by other voices as windows were +cautiously raised: in a moment the doors were thrown wide and a crowd +of natives swarmed about the two riders. The men shrill-voiced, women +and children hysterical, they crowded around the pair in a confidence +that was pitiful.</p> + +<p>Frightened beyond a white man's conception by the midnight visitation +of ladrones within a half-mile of their village, cowed, witless, they +were reassured merely by the uniforms the two riders wore—the +red-piped uniform of the small, scattered force of five thousand +Filipinos, who, ably officered, highly trained, intrepid, have never +tasted defeat: have wiped out every murderous band that raised +treacherous hand and then, outlawry scotched, have turned the power of +their discipline against the scourges of diseases, floods, cattle +plagues, typhoons. Unsung, unwept, they have carried on, their motto +Service and their goal Success.</p> + +<p>Terry, patient, reassuring, lingered till he had overcome their +immediate fears, left them content with their faith in the protection +he promised them. Hurrying on, Terry and his Sergeant shortly came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> to +Ledesma's well kept plantation, and Terry turned his pony over to the +Sergeant and approached the big bamboo house.</p> + +<p>Ledesma, gray-haired, distinguished looking, bearing his grief with +Tagalog stoicism, greeted him with the finished courtesy of the +Spanish tradition and led him up the precarious slatted steps into the +house. It was a house of desolation.</p> + +<p>The mother lay moaning wretchedly upon the cane bottom of the carved +mahogany bed which, with four chairs, a round table and a talking +machine made up the furniture of the main room. Ledesma's son, a lad +of eight, sat big-eyed and solemn near an open window, not fully +understanding the blow that had fallen but vaguely frightened by his +mother's lamentations.</p> + +<p>The Tagalog, dignified in his suffering, answered Terry's brief +interrogations intelligently but as he had been out on the gulf with +his fishermen during the raid he had little to offer. Terry turned to +the sobbing mother and in a few minutes she had quieted sufficiently +to tell her story. He grew paler and grimmer as she dramatized the +terror of the midnight entrance of the ominous shadows, the noiseless +gliding of bare feet, the vicious whispered threats, the cries of the +girl as they bore her away into the night and the long wait for +Ledesma's return. Finishing her story, she sank back upon the great +bed, moaning and muttering incoherently.</p> + +<p>Ledesma elaborated her story with details she had told him. She had +recognized neither shadowed forms nor whispering voices of any of the +four who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> entered the house while the others herded the stolen +carabaos toward the waterfront. One of them had warned her that this +was what would happen to all of the natives who made too good friends +with the Americanos: and the biggest of the four had bent over her to +whisper in the dark: "And the pale Constabulario won't be able to help +you with his celebrated pistol—soon we will visit him!"</p> + +<p>Terry soon realized that he was wasting valuable time here—and time +was the big factor. He conferred with Mercado, who had been +questioning the scared laborers, but equally without result: no one +could identify any of the band, there was no evidence that would lead +to Malabanan's conviction, though all were certain that the biggest +figure had been his. Bidding Ledesma a hurried adieu he rode away. +Time was pressing ... Ledesma's daughter must be rescued ... soon. He +followed the trail of the stolen carabaos, the renewed lamentations of +the distracted mother ringing in his ears.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes along the plain trail torn through the brush by the +driven carabaos brought them out on the beach. There the trail ended: +it was for this that Malabanan had brought the big lorcha that the +secreto had mentioned. A moment of thought and he swung northward +toward Davao, again following the glistening beach. At noon, and low +tide, they forded the creek and swung up off the beach to breathe the +sweating ponies in the deep shade of a mango tree that spread high +above the surrounding brush. Dismounting, they stood as in a huge +green bowl: its bottom the smooth waters of the gulf, iridescent under +a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> zenith sun and framed as far as the eye could reach with a slant of +parched beach; the sides of the vast concavity were formed by the +verdant mat of jungled slopes that rose with ever increasing +abruptness to the far, somber-edged mountains.</p> + +<p>The doughty Macabebe gave not a glance at the great panorama, busying +himself in refolding the reeking saddle blankets and tightening +girths, then lighted a casual cigarette. Terry, impatient of the +necessary halt, paced the shadowed space restlessly after his first +appreciation of the sun-drenched Gulf. He turned to the Macabebe with +the first words they had passed since leaving Ledesma.</p> + +<p>"Sergant, what is your opinion? Was it Malabanan?"</p> + +<p>Mercado looked up quickly, pleased with this mark of confidence from +his uncommunicative chief. He was positive.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Malabanan."</p> + +<p>"Of course—it could be no other. But—what would you do if you were +in my place—we have no legal proof."</p> + +<p>"I would take a platoon of our best men, sir, and visit his +hacienda—and then there would be no Malabanan, sir—unless dead men +live!"</p> + +<p>"But the courts, Sergeant: we could not convict him on the evidence we +have. And what you suggest would be mere murder."</p> + +<p>"Courts, sir? Malabanan will never face a court—I know that, sir. I +FEEL that, sir!"</p> + +<p>Terry studied the hard face of the little fighting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> man: "Sergeant, +you don't seem to fear man or devil."</p> + +<p>Mercado's white teeth flashed as he shrugged pleased denial of claim +to such courage, then his roving gaze focussed upon a distant object +and the confident expression altered swiftly to uneasiness, awe, +superstitious terror. Terry, startled at the transformation, followed +the direction of his dread stare and saw that his eyes were fixed upon +the distant, mist-wreathed crest of Apo. He understood. Even this +sturdy little soldier cowered before the obscure menace of the hidden +Hill People. Terry resented, vaguely, that others did not respond to +the spell of the Hills as he did.</p> + +<p>The five minutes had freshened the wonderful little steeds, so they +mounted and pushed on through the heat with eyes half shut against the +glare of sand and water. At four o'clock they pulled up in front of +Terry's quarters.</p> + +<p>A note from the secreto lay on his table. He opened it and read that +Malabanan had not returned, that the place was deserted. He had +anticipated this, knowing that the band would now operate from some +secret rendezvous in the maze of the forests. His problem now was to +locate their meeting place: his patrols must search them out. +Information would be passed quickly to them by the inhabitants of the +gulf—every planter, laborer, trader and native now knew that the +ladrones were rampant: and now the Bogobos would be most valuable to +him, as in their wanderings they covered every inch of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> woods to +the edge of the Hill Country, and news of strangers would be brought +to him by swift Bogobo runners.</p> + +<p>A quick shower to rid himself of the intolerable stickiness of the +long hot ride, a change to fresh shirt and breeches, and he hastened +to the <i>cuartel</i>. Two patrols had come in during the afternoon, +reporting no intelligence of the bandits but bearing tidings of an +aroused American and frightened native population. The launch returned +an hour later after a fruitless search of the west coast for signs of +the lorcha. He manned it with fresh crew and detail and hurried it out +to cover every inch of the east coast.</p> + +<p>He ordered out two additional patrols to help cover the back country; +detached four of the twenty men whom he had retained for pursuit and +sent them to guard the heedless doctor who labored with his sick at +Dalag. The four warriors marched off cursing picturesquely at the luck +which took them away from the combat group.</p> + +<p>An air of expectancy hung over the <i>cuartel</i>. Terry, grave, smoothly +efficient, sat in the orderly room studying maps and keeping the +Sergeant and the clerk busy as he wove a net of patrols of gulf and +coast and foothills which would cover every inch of terrain within the +night. In the big squad room the fierce little Macabebes joked with +each other as they repolished stainless rifles and repacked field +equipment under a zealous corporal's eye. Outside, a knot of +frightened natives occluded each window facing the plaza, peering in +at the laughing soldiers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> dully wondering at the makeup of these men +who grinned at the prospect of facing the dread ladrones.</p> + +<p>Every loose string tightened, every loophole closed, Terry left the +<i>cuartel</i> and crossed the plaza toward his quarters. Preoccupied, he +noted that for once all of the phonographs were silenced, the plaza +deserted; and already the town's doors and windows were closed against +the coming night. The impact of Malabanan's first blow, struck thirty +miles south, had been felt in native Davao. His face hardened.</p> + +<p>He strove hard, under Matak's urgings, to do justice to the perfect +dinner. But a dull headache had fastened across his forehead, a +symptom he attributed to his long ride over the scorching beach and to +loss of sleep.</p> + +<p>He had spread his net, the quarry could not escape capture, he had but +to wait as patiently as possible for information as to their +whereabouts: some time during the night word must come from launch or +patrol, from planter or Bogobo.</p> + +<p>Another thought had pressed all day—the answer to his cable. He sent +Matak to the postoffice, hopeful, nervous. But nothing had come. +Rising, he found the room stifling, and he reached for his hat to go +out. Matak noticed that he had forgotten his sidearm and delayed him +long enough to lift it off the wallhook and fasten the belt about his +waist.</p> + +<p>The sun had set. As he walked aimlessly across the town he noticed +that all of the little stores, whose main trade came during the +evening hours, were boarded tight. He wandered down to the little dock +and out to its end, looking over the rippled waters<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> with eyes that +ached strangely. The light faded swiftly, taking with it the pall of +oppressive humidity and freeing the Gulf to the coolness of +approaching night. None of the fishing craft which usually dotted the +gulf at this hour had ventured out. Malabanan had indeed made himself +felt.</p> + +<p>Terry stood near an upended pile, numb with disappointment over the +expected cablegram. The dusk yielded in the distance to a darkness +which crept toward him over the ever diminishing circle of water.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his dulled faculties registered an insistent warning of +danger, he caught the slight creaking of a board behind him. Aroused, +he whirled to face two figures which had halted ten feet from him in +attitudes expressive of the stealth of their approach. In the dusk he +distinguished two unusually large natives dressed in coarse unstarched +crash, and wearing shoes. Each carried a bolo thrust in braided hemp +belts.</p> + +<p>For a tense moment they maintained the pose in which he had surprised +them, then the shorter of the two, who was a pace in front, took a +slow step backward, uneasy in being the closer to the young American +whose eyes drilled him through the gloom.</p> + +<p>Terry, idly fingering his pistol belt with his left hand, shifted his +gaze to the larger of the pair, then unconsciously took a step forward +to better see that queer face. In the shock of surprise he stopped +short and his right arm jerked back into a curious position that +brought the hand below and behind his holster.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> The left eye of the +big Tagalog glittered white in the night!</p> + +<p>His impetuous, fearless step toward the pair had broken the spell +which held them motionless. The white-eyed native hesitated, glanced +uneasily at Terry's holster, then spoke in brief gutturals to his +companion. Lifting his hat in salutation he bade Terry a suave +"<i>Buenas Noches, Señor</i>," and turning, walked off the dock, his +consort close behind him.</p> + +<p>Through the soft darkness Terry saw them mount two ponies which were +tethered to a tree near the end of the wharf, and heard the shrill, +mocking laugh aimed back at him by the smaller of the two as they +galloped away into the night.</p> + +<p>As he made his way rapidly across the poorly lighted town he gave no +thought to the fact that the pair had evidently meant him harm, +speculating upon the peculiar birthmark in the eye of the larger +Tagalog and wondering if he could be the man for whom Matak had sought +so many years.</p> + +<p>He found Matak sitting crosslegged upon the floor fastening brass +buttons into some uniforms which had just returned from the +<i>lavendera</i>. Terry stopped before him:</p> + +<p>"Matak, I want to thank you for reminding me of my gun. As it +happened, it didn't do any harm."</p> + +<p>Stepping to the window he blew a blast upon his whistle, an unusual +summons that brought Mercado running across the plaza in most +unsoldierly fashion. Entering, he cracked his heels in salute, his eye +agleam with hope that the break had come. Terry dismissed Matak from +the room before addressing him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sergeant, do you know anybody in this Gulf who has an albino left +eye—an eye that is all white but the pupil?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"Who might know?"</p> + +<p>"The Chino Lan Yek, sir. He knows everybody—everybody owes him money, +sir!"</p> + +<p>"Fetch him here."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes Lan Yek stood before Terry, his Mongolian +imperturbability shaken by this night summons from an officer of the +law. With the natives' love of ragging a Chinamen, Mercado had been +very stern and mysterious concerning his mission—and Lan Yek knew a +thing or two about opium smuggling that bothered him as he faced the +American.</p> + +<p>Terry repeated his inquiry regarding the identity of the white-eyed +native, and Lan Yek's response was startlingly illuminating.</p> + +<p>"Yes, me know him. Me know white-eyed fellah. His name Malabanan!"</p> + +<p>Malabanan! This had been the "visit" they had told Ledesma's wife they +would pay Terry.</p> + +<p>"Lan Yek, when did you see him last?"</p> + +<p>"To-night he come, buy cigalet, no pay—talk 'Melican talk—tell me +'Go to Hell.'"</p> + +<p>Terry gestured his dismissal and the nervous Celestial scurried away, +relieved that the interrogation had not been intimate.</p> + +<p>Terry briefly recounted to Mercado what had occurred on the dock, +ordered him to send out a patrol at once to circle the town at a +distance of five miles to discover if possible upon what trail the +pair had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> ridden out, emphasizing that the patrol was to return and +report to him, regardless of the hour of arrival.</p> + +<p>"And hold the men in instant readiness. I may need them at any moment +during the night."</p> + +<p>There was at least one supremely happy man in the Gulf that night, for +the Sergeant's joy was a living thing as he departed to put the orders +into effect.</p> + +<p>A moment later Terry heard the kitchen door open slowly, and looking +up he beheld the mottled face and burning eyes of the Moro. It was +manifest that Matak had overheard Lan Yek. He stood in the doorway +battling for his voice.</p> + +<p>"Master," he said huskily, "I knew you would help me find him."</p> + +<p>Gratitude suffused his face, then receded before the tide of +Mohammedan fanaticism and fury which welled up from his bitter heart. +Stepping backward, he kept his eyes fastened upon Terry till he had +passed through the door into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Terry was deeply disturbed by this unforeseen turn of events. He had +decided against informing Matak until he had lodged Malabanan safely +behind prison walls, then to confront him with the Moro and if he +proved to be Matak's long sought enemy, he would add the charge of +triple murder against the desperado. The day of private vengeance must +pass in Mindanao—vengeful killings were murder, punishable as murder.</p> + +<p>He called to Matak, then again, but there was no answer. He hurried +into the kitchen, into Matak's room, then down into the double stable +back of the house. But Matak was gone, and so was Terry's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> spare pony. +Realizing the futility of searching for him in the night, he composed +himself as best he could. It added another phase to the +exigency—everything now rested with the patrols who were tirelessly +combing the Gulf to discover the new rendezvous.</p> + +<p>He strove for patience, but waiting is hard. He picked up a volume of +poems, discarded it impatiently for a magazine, threw this back on the +table and withdrew from the glare of the lamp which added to his +insistent headache. Looking out on the dark town he saw that even the +Club was unlighted, the first time since his arrival in Davao. His jaw +tightened as he pictured the isolated planters sitting through the +night, rifles on knees, listening for hostile movements in the jungle +surrounding their hardwon acres.</p> + +<p>Drawing up a big cane chair he sat in the shadow looking out into the +dark. The sky was like a vast black colander perforated haphazardly +with a myriad brilliant openings which paled and glowed. The crescent +of the young moon hung over the faintly outlined mountains: he watched +it slant slowly down till its lower point was absorbed in the heavy +mist which blanketed Apo.</p> + +<p>Malabanan loose with his ravaging band ... Matak, alone, searching for +him in the night ... Ledesma's daughter, that gentle, big-eyed girl, +at the mercy of such beasts ... would the patrols never return? He +rose and paced the floor, frantic with the enforced inaction. +Schooling himself to a semblance of patience, he sat through another +long hour.</p> + +<p>Why, he thought dully, should he have had the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> presumption to expect +an answer to his cable ... she was too kind to cable "no" ... her +letter of explanation would be a month in coming.... He watched as the +mists around Apo gathered, thickened, darkened: the banks were +flashlighted into white billows, then the soft rumble of thunder +rolled down the slopes, a vanguard of the rainstorm which rustled the +forest tops as it swept down nearer, louder, to expire as it touched +the edge of the town: a few drops splashed heavily on the tin roof of +the silent house, then the stars shone more brilliantly than before +and Apo loomed sharp against a cleared sky.</p> + +<p>It was a long night. At last he rose wearily and seated himself at his +desk, shading his dulled eyes. A moment of indecision, and he wrote to +his sister.</p> + +<blockquote><p>Dear Sue-sister:</p> + +<p>Sometimes your sweet letters breathe the fear that harm +might befall me. You need not worry.</p> + +<p>I live in a lovely land, a land of sunny days and balmy +nights, a land of courteous, friendly folk.</p> + +<p>I live in a land where pneumonia is unknown, or sunstroke: +cholera perished in boiling water, and behind our mosquito +nets we laugh at malaria.</p> + +<p>Should other dangers threaten, I have my company of loyal +Macabebes: laughing fighters, stern lovers, they guard me +while I sleep. They like me, I think.</p> + +<p>Nothing but Old Age can befall me here; and I think the +Fountain of Youth lies not where old Ponce searched—but +here, on Apo's towering crest. I am going there to search +... some day ... before I am too old.</p> + +<p>I have but one fear: that you and the others whom I love may +some day cease to—</p></blockquote><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>His head ached intolerably. He dropped his pen in sudden listlessness, +crossed aimlessly to the window. Dawn wavered over Samal. The plaza +was dark save for the lights which blazed in the cuartel to show that +the Macabebes, too, had kept the long vigil.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he saw four fagged little Macabebes emerge from the shadowed +street and enter the path of light which streamed from the wide +cuartel door. Shoulders drooping under heavy packs after the long +night's hike, they staggered into the building.</p> + +<p>A moment, and a fiercely glad yell rose from the barracks, and the +Sergeant bounded out of the doorway to speed toward Terry's house. +Terry straightened his relaxed muscles as the Sergeant burst into the +room.</p> + +<p>A patrol had succeeded! They had learned from Bogobos that during the +afternoon a number of unknown armed natives had gathered in the three +deserted shacks near Sears' ford. Malabanan and Sakay were riding +westward toward Sears' plantation. On the way in the patrol had +encountered Matak riding hard on Malabanan's trail!</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>INTO THE FORBIDDEN HILLS</h3> + + +<p>Terry's two black pistols, canteen and packed saddle bags lay on the +table. Without a word he snapped holster and canteen into his belt +holes and the Sergeant picked up the bags and extra gun. As he blew +out the light Terry first realized that dawn had come. They hurried +silently to the cuartel, in front of which the sixteen impatient +Macabebes were drawn up, each equipped for the field and holding +saddled ponies. As he drank the coffee that the thoughtful Mercado had +prepared for him Terry gestured questioningly toward the ponies.</p> + +<p>"I knew you would want to travel fast, sir, so I borrowed these ponies +from planters. They are very angry about the ladrones, sir, and were +glad to help." He found ample reward for his foresight in Terry's +unspoken commendation.</p> + +<p>Several brown heads appeared at windows to stare after the little +cavalcade that trotted down the side of the plaza at daylight and took +the west trail into the brush. It was not a smart outfit, it lacked +all of the flourish and the trappings of parade, but it did look eager +to use the carbines that flapped from pommel straps. Terry's compact +gray set the pace for the dauntless men who rode behind him, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +Sergeant brought up the rear snapping sharp-voiced invectives that +withered three over-zealous riders.</p> + +<p>A long trail lay before them. Terry maintained a steady trot that ate +up the miles. The day grew hot, the brush thicker. Twice he halted the +column to water the ponies at shallow fords: once he stopped to smooth +saddle blankets and resaddle.</p> + +<p>He felt the heat intensely. His skin seemed dry and hot, and he +slanted his campaign hat low over his eyes to dim the glare of the sun +and relieve the strain on his eyeballs, which ached fiercely. His +pony, having worked off its excess of spirit, settled down into a +tireless pace that tested the picked mounts the planters had selected +as their best, and the miles passed in silence save for staccato +pounding of hoofs on hard packed earth and the swish of underbrush +that lined the narrow crooked trail.</p> + +<p>At noon he drew up at Sears' plantation to freshen men and beasts. +Sears tore out to meet them, greeted Terry enthusiastically and ran +inside again to hurry his cook while Terry superintended the care of +the ponies. When Sears' foreman bore the soldiers into the cookshack +for a hot dinner of rice and fish Terry passed up the high stairway +and into the cool house, there to sink into a big chair, faint.</p> + +<p>Sears was energetically speeding his boy in the laying of his +"company" linens and silver. He lumbered over to Terry and in his +enthusiasm shook hands again. Feeling the hand hot to his touch, he +glanced keenly down into the burning eyes.</p> + +<p>"Man, you're sick! You shouldn't be out in the sun in this +condition!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>Terry mustered a weak laugh but Sears insisted: he poured out a stiff +drink of Scotch and when Terry refused this he half wrecked his +medicine chest in search of aspirin. He found only two tablets, and +these Terry swallowed obligingly, finding almost instant relief as the +perspiration cooled his parched skin.</p> + +<p>Sears' anxious hospitality suffered during lunch as despite a brave +show of appetite Terry ate nothing, but briefly outlined the situation +that was taking him into the foothills.</p> + +<p>"So they are coming this way?" Sears exclaimed. "I hadn't heard it yet +but I knew something was up. Last night some Bogobos—they are fine to +me since you—since I—" he floundered a moment, "I mean they're fine +to me. Well, anyway, last night they came to tell me that two strange +natives, both armed, had ridden past here toward the foothills: didn't +know who the pair were—you may, though, as they described one as +havin' a white eye."</p> + +<p>Terry nodded: "That is Malabanan, Sears."</p> + +<p>Sears whistled: "Pwhew! I am gettin' some likely neighbors—probably +the other was his side-kicker, that laughin' devil of a Sakay! Well, +anyway, that's not all, Lieutenant. About two hours ago my foreman saw +your Moro boy, Matak. He was ridin' that black pony of yours and +stopped to ask my foreman if he had seen two natives ridin' by, +describin' Malabanan. Then he beat it after 'em."</p> + +<p>Terry was watching through the open window and when he saw his men +emerge from the shack he rose apologetically, listening attentively +while Sears told<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> him the best trail to the three abandoned shacks +that Terry sought. Sears, distressed in the helpless way of physically +big men, detained him while he refilled his canteen with fresh water +and sought Terry's habits long enough to again try to press a Scotch +upon him.</p> + +<p>"Sears, that aspirin fixed me up. I wish you would give me a couple +more of those tablets."</p> + +<p>Further search proved fruitless, he had no more. He turned to Terry +with a sorrow out of all proportion to the situation.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant, I haven't got any more. But here's some quinine—take a +few grains every few hours—it may help you."</p> + +<p>Terry thrust the vial of capsules into his shirt pocket and after +thanking Sears hastened outside to where his men were tightening +girths under the watchful Sergeant's eye. Sears hovered over Terry, +offering advice, expostulating, as Terry mounted and gathered rein.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant," he said, "you know the ford is just above the pool they +call the 'Crocodile Hole.' Cross the ford, come back along the bank, +and you'll find a trail leadin' to the three shacks in the woods."</p> + +<p>"I know, Sears. Thanks. Good-by."</p> + +<p>"<i>Adios</i>," Sears called. Then he stood watching the little band trot +through the gate and into the woods. His eyes moistened, he raised his +big fist against an invisible foe.</p> + +<p>"If they get him—" he muttered through lips that trembled unashamed, +"if they get that boy—that sick boy, I'll—I'll—we'll ... and I +didn't have any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> medicine for him—the only thing he ever asked me +for—or ever asked anybody for!"</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>For the first time Terry urged the gray. Matak over two hours ahead of +him and mounted on the next best pony in the Gulf ... Malabanan hours +ahead of Matak, riding toward the Ledesma girl held for him in one of +the three shacks.... He pushed the pony hard across the open +clearings, recklessly forced him through the underbrush that in +frequent areas obliterated the trail. They were now well inland and +mounting a perceptible grade toward the foothills: the sluggish stream +they had paralleled all day ran swift here. Once, where the trail +twisted near the bank, they heard the rush of rapids, and a mile +farther on they came in sight of a curiously soundless waterfull. They +had reached the Bogobo country but the afternoon quiet was unbroken by +the sound of agongs. Fear had reached the foothills.</p> + +<p>His pony was too much for the courageous but smaller mounts of the +Macabebes and Terry gradually drew ahead. He must overtake Malabanan +before nightfall.... Ledesma had not put his confidence into words, +but he had looked it—had trusted him ... the pony's head and neck +dripped, a welt of lather fringed the saddle blanket over the withers +and down both shoulders. The Sergeant, seeing his men fall behind, +galloped up into the lead and cursed them on with graphic phrases +culled from the English, Spanish and Malay tongues. But it was +useless: the gray pony carried its desperately anxious rider faster +than their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> jaded mounts could travel. Terry drew out of sight, but +they rode on.</p> + +<p>All through the afternoon Terry had been dimly conscious that the +headache had returned, that his face was flushed and hot, but the fast +pumping blood seemed to energize his faculties. Never had he felt so +keyed-up, so sinewy of nerve.</p> + +<p>The hours flew with the miles. At five o'clock he crashed out of the +woods into an open spot where the trail bent down toward the river to +skirt a deep black pool—the Bogobos' Crocodile Hole, which none of +them would ever approach. It was a roughly circular depression +extending from bank to bank, a hundred feet in diameter; it lay just +below the ledge of rock that made a low-water ford but which, at high +water, was the brink of a falls which had worn a deep hole in the soft +river bottom.</p> + +<p>Terry slowed his steaming pony as he rounded the pool. Stories that he +had overheard flashed across his mind, ghastly stories whispered by +tremulous native lips into credulous brown ears, of the size of the +Thing which dwelt here, of its age, its incredible scaly length and +girth, its patient devilish cunning; of the toll it had taken of three +generations, tales you would not care to hear—like that of the old +blind Bogobo who lost his way, and groping for the trail with naked +hands—no, you would not care to hear such appalling tales.</p> + +<p>Riding the river ledge above the pool he glanced down into the deep, +quiet waters but his thoughts snapped back to the present as his pony +balked at the edge of the ford. The gray had never balked at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> water, +and attributing the display of vice to fatigue, he tried to gentle him +into the shallow water, then touched him with spur—minutes were +precious now. Driven by the steel, the gray stepped gingerly into the +stream, took several steps, then snorted as he wheeled back to the +bank. Terry swung him back sharply and sent the spur deep into the +flanks of the trembling beast: half wild with the unaccustomed +punishment he dashed into the water and splashed across in frightened +bounds that took him up the opposite bank into the brush.</p> + +<p>Terry brought the pony round and stroked its neck soothingly to calm +the unaccountable terror apparent in the nervous tossing of head and +distension of red nostrils. As he guided him along the bank a sound of +disturbed water brought Terry's head up sharply: heavy ripples circled +away from a spot near the opposite shore just under the ford. As he +peered keenly he discerned the indistinct outline of something that +looked like a heavy log sink slowly into the dark depths. The pony +fretted until they left the river-bank to follow an old trail that led +into the woods.</p> + +<p>Here Terry held him to a walk, riding cautiously, pausing at each turn +of the trail to scrutinize every inch of brush intently, ears alert to +faintest sound. He knew he was nearing the deserted huts. He advanced +several hundred yards thus, searching for the clearing, listening. +Discerning well ahead a space where the sky was open above a cleared +area he dismounted, hurriedly knotted the reins to a sapling, snatched +his extra pistol from the saddle holster, then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> crept forward through +the early forest twilight, wary, both pistols at full cock.</p> + +<p>Creeping round the first bend in the trail he searched the near +thickets with penetrating keenness: he knew Malay treachery. His eyes, +flashing from side to side, focussed upon a dim, motionless figure +outlined in the shadow beneath the trunk of a large tree that stood on +the edge of the clearing. His back was to Terry and he seemed +engrossed in some silent drama that was being enacted in the clearing +out of Terry's field of vision.</p> + +<p>Terry crept toward him soundlessly and when he had covered half of the +distance that separated them he was overjoyed to recognize him as +Matak. As Terry's lips parted in a low call, Matak glided from the +tree like a swift shadow just as a shriek of pain and terror rent the +silence of the woods, followed by a vowelled curse and the sound of a +heavy hand on naked flesh.</p> + +<p>As Terry sprang forward to the edge of the clearing he heard behind +him the distant sound of ponies driven recklessly through the +underbrush, and knew that the Macabebes were coming up!</p> + +<p>He halted at the edge of the clearing, unobserved by the crowd of +bandits who had sprung out of the three disused huts when Matak leaped +into the open: with ready rifles and bolos they awaited the command of +their white-eyed leader, who stood in front of them, startled, but +coolly confronting the Moro. Ledesma's daughter, who had fallen under +Malabanan's heavy blow, staggered to her feet and ran blindly into +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> arms of a laughing rough whom Terry recognized as Malabanan's +companion at the dock—the sardonic Sakay.</p> + +<p>For a moment the tableau held. Terry could not see Matak's face but he +heard the tense fury of the voice:</p> + +<p>"Malabanan, you speak English?"</p> + +<p>Malabanan looked him over insolently before answering: "Yes."</p> + +<p>Moro met Tagalog in the Bogobo's country on the common ground of the +American-brought English tongue!</p> + +<p>"Malabanan, you know me?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You remember one night—nine years now—on Basilan? You remember kill +old man, old woman, then girl on boat? You remember kill little boy, +too, and throw in sea?"</p> + +<p>The Moro's voice dripped with the released passions of nine years of +brooding over terrible wrongs. As he saw the light of recollection +appear in the desperado's dark face, he struggled to speak the words +that had been dammed up so long:</p> + +<p>"Malabanan, I am that boy.... Now you die!"</p> + +<p>He snatched the long knife from the scarf knotted about his waist in +Moro fashion, his knees bending under him in a tigerish crouch as he +slowly circled toward his powerful enemy. Malabanan drew his great +bolo with a contemptuous sneer at the little Moro and before Terry +could have interfered had he wished, they leaped at each other. Matak +dodged down under the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> first awful sweep of the gleaming bolo and as +he came up he struck at Malabanan, not with the classic downward +stroke, but UP!</p> + +<p>As the glittering blade went home, deep, Malabanan threw the Moro from +him with a convulsive heave that crashed him senseless against the +stump of a charred tree. His colorless left eye, lusterless in strange +contrast to the baleful fire that glowed in the right, Malabanan +gathered his fast ebbing strength in a last effort and staggered +toward the unconscious Moro, his glittering weapon upraised, heedless +of the pale American who stepped out with a rasping: "Halt!"</p> + +<p>But he sank limp as Terry's heavy pistol roared a message he did +heed—though never heard—sagging down to sprawl across the Moro's +legs.</p> + +<p>Terry leaped full into the clearing and covered the ladrones, who +stood paralyzed by the swiftness of the tragedy, stunned by the +dramatic appearance of the young American whose pistols were famed +throughout the Gulf, and as they hesitated the Macabebes smashed out +of the fringe of timber, threw themselves off their reeking ponies and +moved to surround the band.</p> + +<p>Sakay, supporting the girl as a screen, drew back toward the nearest +of the huts and opened fire at Terry with a rifle. The ladrones +scattered for cover and in a minute the woods rang with their +fusillade and with the deadly volleys sent in answer by the Macabebes.</p> + +<p>It was a brief combat. Though outnumbered nearly two to one the +soldiers were disciplined and highly trained marksmen. In a moment six +of the bandits<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> were on the ground, nine threw up their hands in +surrender and the balance fled through the woods. The Sergeant, who +had been slugging away with his rifle with a calculating attention to +the details of marksmanship belied by the fierce joy in his brilliant +black eyes, ceased firing at Terry's shouted command and detached +eight of his man, who caught up some frightened ponies and raced +through the woods to head off the fleeing brigands.</p> + +<p>Sakay, using the fear-crazed girl as a shield from behind which to +shoot at Terry, found his aim thwarted by her struggles. Seeing Terry +advancing straight upon him and fearful of exposing himself to the +fire of the two black pistols, he dropped his rifle and holding the +girl directly in front of him, called out in English:</p> + +<p>"I surrender! I surrender! I surrender, Lieutenant!"</p> + +<p>His deep anxiety subsiding when he realized that he would suffer no +immediate harm, Sakay threw the girl from him with a brutal force that +sent her prostrate and was promptly rewarded by the husky Mercado, who +had been under American tutelage long enough to understand the virtue +and the technique of what is vulgarly known as "a good swift kick."</p> + +<p>The Sergeant escorted Sakay into the group of prisoners rounded up by +the four soldiers and set them to digging a grave for the six, who, +with Malabanan, would "never appear before the court." In a few +minutes the pursuit party rode into the clearing herding all but three +of the criminals who had fled: those three were carried in and placed +alongside the grave.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<p>Terry worked over Matak, who had been merely stunned. In a few minutes +the Moro recovered fully and went back to secure Terry's pony, which +he had abandoned near the ford.</p> + +<p>While the Sergeant attended to the duties of identification and burial +of the dead Terry led the girl into one of the huts and quietly +comforted her. She told him of the ordeal of her forced journey +through the greater part of a day and a night, of the captors who +leered at her but remained aloof because of fear of Malabanan, of +being waked from sleep at Malabanan's arrival just before Matak +appeared. Malabanan and Sakay, worn with the night's ride, had stopped +during the noon hours to rest in the woods.</p> + +<p>When it came time to go, Terry placed the girl on his pony, declining +another mount, as his head now ached too fiercely to withstand jolting +in the saddle. He set off in the lead, afoot, followed by the +prisoners under escort, Mercado bringing up the rear with the girl.</p> + +<p>As they neared the ford Terry heard a sharp out-cry from one of the +guards, followed by the sharp crack of a rifle. Whirling, he saw the +brush on his right agitated by the movements of a figure that crashed +unseen through the tangle of vegetation. Two soldiers flung themselves +off their ponies and leaped in pursuit, pausing fruitlessly for sight +of the fleeing form and dashing on with trailed rifles. The aggressive +Mercado galloped up, shouting an explanatory "Sakay!" as he charged +straight into the brush.</p> + +<p>Terry sped down the trail toward the river, emerging on the bank just +as the lithe Sakay burst from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> the brush. Laughing derisively at Terry +Sakay leaped toward the stream, reached the bank in four great bounds +and leaped far out from the low edge. As the bandit's powerful body +curved in the air Terry's pistol barked twice before the supple form +straightened to strike the pool in a perfect dive.</p> + +<p>Terry leaped down the bank to cover Sakay when he should rise. Leaning +over the ledge he distinguished the white-clad figure sliding +gracefully through the dark depths with the momentum of the dive: ten +feet, twenty, thirty, then it slowed, started to rise.</p> + +<p>But as he watched, tense ... there was a rush of a massive armored +body through the shadowed depths, a great scaly thing swirled the +limpid pool, a flash of hideous teeth—and the white form was gone.</p> + +<p>Spellbound with the unutterable horror of what he had seen, Terry +watched the waters become quiet again, but turned away, aghast, when +bubbles rose like tiny silver globes against the jet depths. When he +turned back there were no more bubbles.</p> + +<p>He sank down on the bank, sickened. The Macabebes had come up with +their meek prisoners and waited at the ford, restless, their eyes +fixed on the oily pool. Even Mercado was anxious to be gone. +Unaffected by the terrible fate of the bandit he had hunted, he viewed +the approach of sunset with vague concern, for this was the nearest +that he had ever been to the edge of the Hill Country.</p> + +<p>Terry strove to rise, and at last realized that he was ill. He sank +back, dazed with the sudden force<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> of a fever that coursed through his +body achingly, that throbbed in his head with a tumultuous roar. He +tried again, but fell back, dizzy. He rested till his head cleared, +then sat up and called Mercado to him. His voice came weak.</p> + +<p>"Sergeant," he explained, "I do not feel—like going in to-night. You +push on—rest at Sears' to-night. Keep the prisoners in his corral +under guard. He will look after Señorita Ledesma and the men. Tell him +that I request that he come here and dynamite this pool—thoroughly. +Push on to Davao next morning and send for Ledesma to get his +daughter; and if I am not there by that time, you send a brief report +of this affair to Zamboanga. Understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, but you look sick, sir!" A quick concern flooded the +Macabebe's heavy face.</p> + +<p>"Yes—I do not feel—very well. I am going to cut across country to +get to Doctor Merchant tonight. It is only six miles straight through +the woods."</p> + +<p>The Macabebe led his charges across the ford, then, worried, returned +to Terry's side. Reassured somewhat by the brave smile, he mounted +after receiving a final injunction to take Matak in with him if they +overtook him. As the Macabebes herded their cowed prisoners into the +woods across from where he lay, Terry lay prone in another of the +intermittent surges of mounting fever that robbed him of his strength +and faculties.</p> + +<p>When the wave of fever subsided he rose weakly, took his bearings by +the low sun and crossing the ford struck straight into the woods in +the direction he knew Dalag to lie. Entrance into the deep woods +brought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> instant twilight. He had covered a mile when a resurgent tide +of fever brought him down on the thick carpet of dead leaves that +covered the darkening forest floor, and for several minutes he lay +gripped in the sickening spasm that rioted through his veins and +robbed him of all reason. When it passed he rose dizzily to stumble on +under the trees, which reached up toward a sky glorious with the +flaming reds and deep pinks that mark the passing of a hot day over +the Celebes Sea.</p> + +<p>He staggered on, conscious only of the necessity of getting to the +doctor and of the agonizing explosions in his head which threatened to +rend his skull asunder at each jarring footfall. The sky grayed, +darkened. Dusk found him a short quarter-mile further on, where +another surge of raging temperature brought him low. Another followed +swiftly. When he rose at last, night had wrapped the thick woods in +its black mantle, and he was no longer conscious of direction, or of +purpose, or of self. He stumbled along dazedly, trying to recall the +purpose that had taken him into the woods.</p> + +<p>The paroxysms passed. The fever had reached a consistent high level, +lending him a singular buoyancy of body and of spirit, but his reason +was gone. He walked faster and faster, his vision keen under the dark +canopy, his mind racing with disordered ideas, a kaleidoscope of long +displaced memories. Often he stopped short, puzzled, vainly striving +to stem the fugitive currents of conceits in his efforts to remember +what purpose had brought him here. His head throbbed. He kept step +with each pulsing ache—it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> seemed to help. He hurried on through the +night.</p> + +<p>The way grew steeper, always he traveled up the ascent. Flooded with +the hot energy that swept through his arteries, each passing hour +seemed to add to the fires that fed his strength.</p> + +<p>The gray beams of early dawn, filtering through a now taller vault of +forest, found him far up the slope and mounting still steeper grades. +He could not quite remember what his mission was ... something that +the Governor wanted, he thought, something he, too, wanted to do ... +or was it a Christmas present for Deane....</p> + +<p>He climbed higher, laughing, singing, talking loudly. Stumbling over a +log his burning eyes had not seen, he turned in grotesque humor to +offer curtsy and abject apology, then hastened on upward. Later, +carroming from a huge tree he had hit head on, he addressed it in +grave good humor: "Please keep to the right." His flushed face purple +in the green light of the deep woods, he hurried on, again worrying +over the nature of his forgotten mission and hysterically impressed +with its importance.</p> + +<p>The sun rose high overhead but it was twilight in the deep forest +through which he clambered, over decayed logs, through rank +overgrowth, past little streams of filthy water flowing in sullen +silence through channels overgrown with moss. No sounds of forest life +challenged the vast silence of the damp and cheerless vault of green, +no song of bird or shrill thrumming of insects that makes the tropical +forest a palpitant discordance during the hot hours of the day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>His laughter rang mockingly through the shadowed silence, the loud +vagaries of his delirium carried far tinder the overhang of tunneled +foliage.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Sears ... poor little fox, you won't ... you need not +worry about me, Doctor ... on Sunday, too—snowshoes and all.... LOOK +OUT MAJOR!... and we need you here, Dick,—Ellis and Susan, Father +Jennings, the foreigners—all of us...."</p> + +<p>Always he kept his face turned toward the heights, and climbed. The +afternoon, waning, found him groping slowly upward, the furious energy +of his fever wearing off. His voice was weaker but he babbled +unceasingly, through dry lips parted in set fever-grin.</p> + +<p>"I hope I did not miss, Sakay. I hope I did not miss.... 'Imagine +bristly Berkshire swine upon the throne of Coeur de Lion!'—and if +they make a break, SMASH 'EM!... Don't wait, Deane, don't wait."</p> + +<p>Unaware of the ill omened forms which, surrounding him while still the +sun was high overhead, had kept apace all afternoon with his +slackening gait, he halted under a huge tree, leaning against the +trunk in sudden weariness. His voice, weak, tremulous, carried to an +audience he could not see:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just to know that years so fair might come again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awhile ...<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! To thrill again to your dear voice—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your smile....<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At the end of the song his hoarse laughter rasped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> through, the woods. +He sank down, tried to rise, then lay where he had fallen beneath the +great tree. He lay still while the last white rays of the dying sun +faded from the topmost leaves far overhead, heedless of the narrowing +circle of eyes which flashed in the dusk.</p> + +<p>Then, as he weakly pressed a hot hand against his scalding eyes in a +gesture of pain that was infinitely pathetic, the Hill People closed +in.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE MAJOR FOLLOWS</h3> + + +<p>The big wall fan, a new symbol of the progress of the American +undertaking, oscillated in jumpy turns that rustled the papers on the +polished desk. Major Bronner sat staring at the maps which covered the +walls of his office. His heavily tanned face bore new lines, worry and +grief and there was a new set to the heavy jaw.</p> + +<p>Rising with sudden determination he hurried down the corridor into the +Governor's office and faced Governor Mason with the strained aspect of +a strong man sorely beset. The Governor gravely studied the eyes that +bored beseechingly into his own, then reached into one of his desk +baskets and lifted a stiff paper.</p> + +<p>"Major," he said slowly, "here is Lieutenant Terry's promotion. They +forwarded it immediately after receipt of my telegraphed report of his +prompt action against Malabanan's brigands." As the Major did not take +it but continued to regard him steadily out of brooding eyes, the +Governor returned the commission to the basket and fell to drumming +his desk.</p> + +<p>He broke the long silence: "Major, you really think you should go?" It +was hardly a question.</p> + +<p>"Governor, I must go!"</p> + +<p>The older man studied his inkwell: "Major, it was over three weeks ago +that Sergeant Mercado sent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> you his report: it seems rather—rather—" +he was loath, to say it—"rather hopeless."</p> + +<p>He remained in contemplation of his uninspiring inkwell for a long +minute then delved into his basket for a letter received that morning +from the Lieutenant Governor of Davao, a letter he had read many +times. He scanned it again.</p> + +<p>"Major, Terry has been missing over three weeks, was ill when he was +last seen. It seems certain that he either succumbed to fever or +else—you know he entered the woods right at the edge of the Hill +Country, and if he strayed off his course he is almost certainly—"</p> + +<p>Bronner broke in upon him, frantically unwilling to hear the word +spoken. He was furious in his grief.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they wait three weeks before reporting his disappearance—the +best officer in the Service—sick—alone in the woods!—no rations, +no—nothing, except a canteen and a pistol! If I were governor I'd +fire the whole damned crew down there!"</p> + +<p>The Governor regarded him with wise patience till he choked into +silence. "No, Major. There was no fault. The Sergeant reported in +Davao that Terry had gone to Dalag to see the doctor, so it was not +until Merchant finished his work there that they learned from him that +Terry had not reached him. It was no fault of any one, Major; just +hard, hard luck. Now, I have been thinking over your request to go in +search of Terry's—in search of Terry, and I have decided. The +despatch boat is now at the wharf subject to your orders. She makes +something over twenty knots."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Governor, I'm—I appreciate your—Governor, it means a good deal to +me!"</p> + +<p>"I will not detain you, Major. You do as you find best when you reach +Davao. Pacify the planters first—this report says that they are wild +with grief and rage. Of course you will take temporary command of +Terry's Macabebes. The entire company is there now and with them you +could doubtless smash your way up into the Hills. I had other hopes, +hopes of winning them peaceably—hopes in which Terry figured.... +Well, I know you are anxious—so run along."</p> + +<p>He rose and came around the big desk to take the Major's hand in a +fatherly farewell. After the Major had torn out of the room the +Governor closed the door and stood at the window looking out over the +busy Straits, his face older, stripped of the optimism with which he +invariably confronted all of these young men who were associated with +him in the Moro task. Sometimes it all seemed so hopeless, so futile.</p> + +<p>For a long time the Governor stood at the window. He was facing +westward toward India, that mystic ever-ever land that had been the +goal of all the nations since before Columbus and was finally won by +the steady strength and genius of a meager island people. But its +cost—its cost in fair-haired, ruddy-cheeked youth! As in other +matters of government we had learned colonization at Mother England's +knee, had sought to apply her precepts, to avoid her mistakes: but +there was no avoiding that penalty, that expenditure of young men. +Quotations from the interpreter of the white man's burden came to his +lips:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> "'<i>The deaths ye have died I have watched beside.</i>'" He +whispered the line over and over again.</p> + +<p>He was still gazing somberly over the wide waters when Bronner rushed +down the pier below him and leaped into the cockpit of the power boat. +An orderly followed on the run and dumped the Major's luggage into the +boat. A Moro cast off the restraining hauser and the snowy hull leaped +forward, nose high in the air. When it reached a point opposite where +the Governor stood its stern was buried deep by the terrific thrash of +the screw, and borne on the swift ebb tide it streaked out of sight +into the west, like a thing alive. The Major was off—the Constabulary +guards its own. When one falls, others search, and bury, and avenge.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The Major settled on the stern seat for the long ride. He had his +thoughts, thoughts that set his jaws till they ached. The motors +roared as they coursed through a shifting panorama of islands, little +heavens of cool verdure as seen from the power boat which rode low, +rising and falling gently in the smooth swells which ribbed the +Celebes from horizon to horizon. From the low seaboard they looked +back upon a thin trail of white dashes which marked the wake their +speed had traced upon the tops of the oily undulations. Adams, the +mechanician, a slim, clean-cut young fellow, scarce glanced at Bronner +through the passing hours but hovered over his engines, absorbed in +their operation.</p> + +<p>The night passed, and the day was nearly done as they shot up to the +little wooden dock at Davao with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> grinding of gears in reverse. +Adams silenced the motors, then turned in stiff fatigue to the Major +with an expression that transfigured his greasy features.</p> + +<p>"Major, I've broken the record for this run by four hours. Now it's up +to you!"</p> + +<p>"You know, then, why I'm—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. And I knew Terry—in Sorsogon Province. I was down and +out, a beachcomber,—booze. And he was kind to me, when I needed +kindness.... It's up to you, Bronner."</p> + +<p>The Major stepped up on the dock, unsteady of limb after the night and +day, his ears roaring from the long punishment. Stamping the length of +the dock to regain his land legs, he returned to meet Doctor Merchant, +who had hastened down to the dock. His heavy hurry had glittered him +with a profuse perspiration that coursed down over his exposed skin +areas, and he wiped his hands and wrists with a big bandana before +shaking hands with the Major. His entire mien bespoke anxiety.</p> + +<p>"We expected you, Major—though not so soon. You know all about—about +it?"</p> + +<p>The Major nodded: "The Governor showed me Whipple's letter."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's about all we know here. Terry was sick when he went +after Malabanan's outfit—he never should have gone. And after doing +that job—and it was SOME job, believe me!—he started cross country +to see me—knew he was sick. It was over two weeks later that I +finished and came in—and when I arrived without him there was a +regular riot!"</p> + +<p>He wiped his face and neck: "Major, I'll never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> forgive myself for +exposing him to that fever—but I couldn't do a thing till he +came—they would do nothing I told them. Do you know how it was he +caught it?" He was at once mournful and enraged. "Gave his mosquito +net to the chief's wife because she was 'soon to become a mother,' as +he put it: and right after he rode away I found she had cut the net +into four big pieces and was using them for <i>towels</i>! Yes, sir! For +towels!"</p> + +<p>He wiped away with the bandana, thinking that thus he concealed his +emotions.</p> + +<p>"Major, you've got your work cut out—a bunch of the planters are in +town this afternoon, planning a raid into the Hills. Lindsey and Sears +are the wildest—the whole bunch will get wiped out if they set foot +in the Hills! You had better see them right away—and you'll have your +hands full—they're mighty determined."</p> + +<p>He paused, fretting, then turned his big bulk with surprising +swiftness: "Well—say something! What are you going to do about this? +Going to clean out the Hills? Or are you going to let—" he stormed on +and on, checking the flow at last to press his hospitality upon the +Major.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Medico, but I'll just sling my bag in Terry's house and sleep +there to-night: and I can eat at the Club."</p> + +<p>The doctor accompanied him as far as Terry's old quarters and passed +on to his own house farther down the street. Matak, gloomy and +wordless, relieved the Major of his bag at the door. The house was +silent, and darkened by drawn pearl-shell shutters. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> Major stood a +moment at the doorway, half sickened by the unused appearance of the +familiar cane chairs, table, desk, and bookcases, then he followed +Matak into the bedroom he had used before. He cleaned up and changed +to whites, and when he came out Matak had thrown the windows wide to +the afternoon sun. But the house was thick with the uncomfortable +silence that pervades unused, furnished habitations and unable to +endure the room he hurried out and over to the <i>cuartel</i>.</p> + +<p>The fiery little Macabebes seemed subdued. Mercado blamed himself for +leaving his officer under the circumstances, was bitterly +self-reproachful for not having sent a soldier with him. He went over +the ground carefully but could add nothing but immaterial detail to +what the Major already knew, but the Major remained in the little +office until dark, listening with grim satisfaction to Mercado's +account of the swift retribution that had followed Malabanan's testing +of Constabulary strength.</p> + +<p>He excused the Sergeant and sifted through the pile of official and +personal mail which lay in the basket marked "unfinished." Sorting it, +he came across a cablegram addressed to Terry and dated the morning +that Terry had left in pursuit of the brigands.</p> + +<p>"From the States, too," he muttered. Moved by an impulse and hardly +conscious of what he did, he folded it twice and placed it in his +purse.</p> + +<p>In half an hour he had finished the few reports that must be executed, +and rose to go. Mercado was waiting for him at the door.</p> + +<p>"Sir," he said, standing stiffly at attention and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> watched by a score +of Macabebes who knew his intention to draw the Major out, "we +Macabebes are soldiers, sir—we never question. But if the Major comes +to lead troops up—there, sir, to bury our Lieutenant, it is a +Macabebe task! We loved him, sir."</p> + +<p>The big Major looked down at the earnest veteran, touched by the +dramatic simplicity of his appeal.</p> + +<p>"Sergeant," he said, "if I do lead a force up there your Macabebes +will be where they belong—at the front of the column!"</p> + +<p>He took the grateful salute and passing out between two rigid lines of +the stalwart little men he crossed the plaza to the Club.</p> + +<p>Entering, he noted the unusual number of Stetsons that hung on the +hatrack, and passing inside, saw that the steward was guarding a score +of rifles and revolvers. For a moment he stood unnoticed by the groups +of determined men who occupied the round dining tables in parties of +four and five. Selecting the table occupied by Lindsey, he went in.</p> + +<p>He felt the tension of the room increase as he entered. All looked up +with friendly word or nod, but from the manner in which they eyed him +and each other he knew that his coming and his purpose had been the +subject of their conversations. He sat down with Lindsey and his two +companions. One of these, O'Rourke, had been the pioneer hemp planter +and now enjoyed a big income; the other, a nervous, hasty young fellow +named Boynton, had borne a reputation as a squawman that had deprived +him of intimacy with his own kind, but had recently put his house in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +order and rehabilitated himself with those who found decency in clean +living.</p> + +<p>In an effort to relieve the atmosphere of constraint the three +planters attempted conversation, but it fell dead, and each applied +himself to his dinner. The Major's eyes roved over the crowded room, +then bored Lindsey's.</p> + +<p>"This is the biggest crowd I ever saw in the Club," he suggested, +tentatively.</p> + +<p>All understood the question in his words, but none answered. Suddenly +Boynton flushed with the hot rush of temper to which he was subject.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he exclaimed defiantly, "and it's a good crowd, too! A crowd +that's got guts! We're going to have a look at those Hills!"</p> + +<p>Lindsey had tried to stop him, but nothing could halt the impetuous +Boynton. O'Rourke snorted disgustedly: "Lave it to Bhoynton to shpill +the banes!"</p> + +<p>With Boynton's outburst the Major tightened. These determined men were +hard to handle. He glanced around the room into the faces turned +toward him: Boynton's tense voice had carried throughout the room and +all of the planters had twisted about in their chairs to face him. +They knew the showdown was at hand, were ready to support Boynton's +declaration of their purpose.</p> + +<p>The Major turned to Boynton: "You aim to leave forty or fifty more +good Americans to rot in the Hills?"</p> + +<p>Boynton fully realizing that the Major was addressing the crowd +through him, and feeling their support,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> spoke more coolly: "Well, +Major, we're ready to chance that!"</p> + +<p>The Major continued, more slowly: "What could fifty men—even such +good men as this fifty would be—do against the Hill People? And how +would they find their way to them? And how would they overcome enemies +they could not find or see, enemies who blow darts that just prick the +skin but bring almost instant death? And if you did reach them, and +kill a large number of them—what would it avail Terry?"</p> + +<p>Pausing long enough for this to sink into their minds, he continued +more sternly: "And furthermore and more important, how could such a +force, organized out of worthy motives but nevertheless engaged in an +unlawful enterprise, hope to even reach the Hill Country—knowing that +they would have to first fight their way through a hundred of the best +Macabebe riflemen in the Islands ... with me leading the Macabebes."</p> + +<p>No one stirred. They knew the Major. This was no threat, no boast, he +had merely stated a fixed purpose. This was Constabulary business, +would be handled by Constabulary.</p> + +<p>"Snap" Hoffman, a husky, keen-eyed youth who enjoyed the unique +reputation of being the best poker player and the hardest worker in +the Gulf, spoke coldly from an adjoining table.</p> + +<p>"Bronner, maybe your Macabebes wouldn't fight against people going up +to square things for the officer they lost—I guess you don't know +what they thought of him! But forgetting that part of it—what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> we +want to know is, what are you going to do about reaching out for him, +or for those who 'got' him?"</p> + +<p>The hissing of the acetylene burners sounded loud in the room during +the pause in which the sunburned planters waited the Major's answer. +He spoke to Hoffman, without resentment.</p> + +<p>"'Snap,' I had plenty of time to think it all out, on the way down +here. There is just one way to find out about Terry: I am starting +into the Hills to-morrow at daylight."</p> + +<p>"With the Macabebes?" Hoffman retained the spokesmanship.</p> + +<p>The Major slowly shook his head. The powerful lights glinted upon the +brass buttons of his uniform and etched the deep lines in the heavily +tanned face.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "The Governor has given me a free hand in this, as it +is a Constabulary job—we look after our own. You all know, as well as +I, what it would mean to force our way in. We would get in eventually, +but in addition to leaving too many good men in the everlasting shade +of the forest, we would defeat our own ends. For if he is still living +they would surely finish him if we undertook a punitive expedition.</p> + +<p>"I have laid my plans on my absolute confidence that he is living. I +know he is, somehow. So I am starting up after him in the morning ... +alone."</p> + +<p>Consternation was written upon every face excepting Lindsey's, who had +understood the Major's purpose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> from the moment he curbed Boynton. +Amazement altered to admiration, then to uneasy forebodings. The Major +watched them as they whispered to each other and as he read their +acceptance of his plans he turned to his cold dinner.</p> + +<p>The planters found relief in following suit. The stewards returned to +the care of the tables. Cigars, the best from Luzon's northern fields, +followed Benguet coffee and when champagne glasses appeared at each +plate in indication of some diner's birthday or other happy occasion, +the planters searched each others' faces to identify the celebrant. As +the Chino withdrew after filling the glasses Lindsey rose, glass in +hand, speaking with his characteristic sincerity and with an easy +grace that belied his rough planter's garb.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, I propose an absent friend ... a friend of all of us. One +who has meant much to all of us, has done much for many of us, has +harmed none by careless deed or word or thought: one who knows the +high places but realizes that life is lived on level planes. +Gentlemen"—he lifted his glass high—"to the—<span class="smcap">health</span>—of Lieutenant +Richard Terry, P. C."</p> + +<p>A swift scraping of feet and of chairs pushed back and they all stood +in mute acclaim of Lindsey's sentiments, subscribed with him to the +Major's refusal to believe that ill had befallen him whom they had +assembled to avenge. Seated again they watched Lindsey, who remained +standing while the Chino refilled the glasses. Lindsey spoke again.</p> + +<p>"I ask you now to pledge the only man I know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> whose bravery, sincerity +and friendship are of a quality to fit him to be the chief of him to +whom it was just now our honor to do honor.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen ... Major John Bronner, P. C.!"</p> + +<p>The response was a thrilling tribute to the flushed officer who +remained seated until the clamor had subsided, then bowed his +embarrassed gratitude.</p> + +<p>They crowded around him as he rose to go, each offering advice and +warnings, wringing his big hand. Boynton drew him a little aside.</p> + +<p>"Major," he said earnestly, "I hope you find him—all right—not—not +hurt. He was fine to me—I came near making an awful mistake—about a +native woman. But he came to me and talked me out of it—spent the +night with me, talking about his mother ... she died when he was a +little shaver ... and he talked about clean living, and the duty of +carrying on your white blood unpolluted. He didn't preach—just talked +sense, and was awfully—friendly. I quit the dame cold!"</p> + +<p>Gripping Bronner's hand, Boynton left the room. Lindsey accompanied +the Major to the door and into the reading room, pointing to the +placard tacked up under the skin of the python.</p> + +<p>"You remember the wording of the first sign? 'Major Bronner owes his +life to the wonderful pistol marksmanship of his friend, Lieut. +Richard Terry, P. C.' He was here the night that Malabanan broke +loose—you will hear about that night of his in the Club—and the next +day we found that he had changed the placard. Look."</p> + +<p>He pulled the Major over and they read:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<blockquote><p>This python, the largest but one measured since American +occupation, was killed on the plantation of Mr. Eric +Lindsey.</p> + +<pre class="note"> + Length...................24 ft., 9 inches + Diameter, thickest..............14 inches +</pre> +</blockquote> + +<p>"We didn't see him do it, but we knew he must have been the one who +changed it. As that's the way he wanted it, we can't change it—now."</p> + +<p>Grief shadowed his earnest countenance again as he faced the Major: +"Don't you think that in view of my friendship for him—and for +you—that I am entitled to go up with you?"</p> + +<p>"No, that's all settled, Lindsey."</p> + +<p>The Major passed out, but pausing on the dark walk in front of the +building to relight his cigar, he heard Lindsey outlining plans for +the campaign the planters would undertake if the Major had not +returned at the end of two weeks.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>In the early morning he made a light pack of rations and the beads, +matches and red calico he had secured to use as presents in case he +won through to the Hill People. He dressed for the field in khaki, +filled an extra canteen and after breakfast mounted Terry's big gray +pony and rode off with Mercado, whom he took to guide him to the spot +where Terry was last seen. The Macabebe took the lead and pressed by +the urgent white man lathered his pony in the rapid pace he set +through the winding trail. They dismounted at the ford shortly before +sunset.</p> + +<p>While the Major was transferring his pack from saddle to shoulders the +Macabebe explored the pool<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> with distrustful eyes. But Sears had done +his work thoroughly: two cases of dynamite had blown in the banks and +created a new channel through which the water flowed swiftly. The pool +had been narrowed by half and shallowed to a depth of ten feet in the +series of explosions Sears had detonated until the river gave up the +rent carcass of the monstrous reptile.</p> + +<p>The Major adjusted the pack to his liking, waved farewell to the +Macabebe and moved toward the fringe of woods with a swinging stride. +The soldier watched the receding figure with mingled admiration and +awe. The Malay stood irresolute as the white man's head and shoulders +passed from view under the low hanging branches, watched the pendulous +khaki legs swing rhythmically into the shadows of the forest and out +of vision, then cast one long look up over the dense roof of the +forest which swept far up to end at Apo's summit, and atremble with +the appalling memories of the lonely spot he mounted the gray and led +his own exhausted pony along the edge of the pool. Once he glanced +back apprehensively as a small Bogobo agong sounded somewhere to the +north and filled the woods with its deep and mournful tones, then +hurried on homewards.</p> + +<p>The Major had headed due west, straight toward the summit of the +mountain. He walked on through the last hour of the afternoon and as +the woods became denser and darker he used the slope of the forest +floor as his point, always facing in the direction of the rising +ascent. He made good time, as here the going was little obstructed by +creepers or thorned "wait-a-minute." Alert, he studied every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> sound of +the forest life, for though he had placed his life on the knees of the +gods he valued it too highly to neglect any slightest precaution. +Inside his shirt there bulged a heavy 45 slung from a leather +breast-holster. This lone attempt of the Hills was no sudden +inspiration; he had planned it logically. There was no other way. Up +there, somewhere, lay or lived his friend. Friendship was the call, +friendship and ... The Service.</p> + +<p>The sun, glinting fitfully through openings in the thatching of +sparkling green leaves, dropped lower and sank from sight, and before +the brief twilight faded he selected a spot beneath a great mango tree +as his first camping place. Gathering some dry twigs and dead boughs +he built a fire at the edge of a little stream and ate sparingly of +his store of beans, chocolate and tinned sausages. In his collapsible +pan he heated water and dissolved his coffee crystals, and the coffee +finished, he boiled more water with which he filled his canteens and +hung them on a branch after dipping the woolen jackets into the creek +to secure the coolness of evaporation.</p> + +<p>Night fell black in the forest. He threw more brush on the fire to +enlarge the circle of light, and made himself a comfortable couch by +patiently stripping the small branches of their most leafy twigs, and +wrapped himself in his blanket, vainly hoping that sleep would come.</p> + +<p>From time to time he rose to add fuel to the fire, as he wanted the +light to be visible from the Gulf, where troubled friends would be +searching the night hills with worried eyes. And he wished the flame +to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> seen in the Hills by those who lurked in the dark shadows so +that they might know that no element of stealth entered into the +approach of this white man who invaded a territory forbidden to +strangers since the earliest dawn of Philippine history. This +idea—the thorough advertisement of fearless confidence—was the basis +of his plan. He knew wild men.</p> + +<p>Desperately he fought off the forebodings which assailed him in the +deep silence of the forest night, for hours he tossed in the distress +of apprehension over the friend of whom he came in search. Toward dawn +he fell asleep puzzling over the problem of Terry's reason for closing +the door of his bedroom before going to bed and then opening it for +ventilation. He waked from a dream in which he had slyly peered into +the room in time to see Terry withdrawing a hypodermic needle from his +arm, and lay worrying about the vivid nightmare until he noticed that +the fire was dimming before the coming of dawn.</p> + +<p>He breakfasted, drowned the embers of his fire with water from the +stream, then reslung his pack and started up the slope. The way grew +steeper with the hours, the forest thicker. The green roof of foliage +was now so thick that the sun seldom penetrated and where it did +strike through the sunlit spots were dazzling in contrast with the +somber shadow of the forest. The undergrowth grew denser, so that he +climbed with greater toil through the maze of thorned bush and snaky +creepers that twined in enormous lengths across the forest floor.</p> + +<p>The never-ending gloom of the weird twilight grew on his nerves. He +tried to whistle to cheer himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> but forebore when the uncanny +echoes rocketed in the dismal cathedral of towering trunks.</p> + +<p>It was rough and cheerless going. There were no trails. Once, toward +noon, while he was munching chocolate to appease his empty stomach, he +suddenly came upon a sort of runway, a beaten trail. He stepped into +this easier path but had taken but a few steps when he was startled by +the vicious rush of a swift object that whizzed up through the air and +tore through a fold of his loose riding breeches, then swung back +before his eyes to vibrate into stillness. It was a bamboo dagger, +sharpened to a keen edge and point, hardened by charring in a slow +fire. Fastened to a young sapling, it had been bent down over the +trail and secured by a trigger his foot had released in passing. Level +with his thigh, it had been designed to pierce the abdomen of the +Hillmen's natural foes. He bent to examine the glutinous material with +which the dagger was poisoned, and paled as he considered his close +escape. Such a death—in such a place....</p> + +<p>After assuring himself that his skin had not been broken by the +<i>balatak</i>, he stepped gingerly off the trail and made his way upward, +carefully avoiding every inch of ground that appeared suspicious. With +each mile of ascent the way grew steeper, the forest deeper and +darker, the green ceiling reared higher on more massive trunks.</p> + +<p>In mid afternoon he noticed that he was passing through a zone of +utter forest silence. There were no relieving sounds of voice or wing +or padded foot.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> It was appalling. Nothing in his vivid experiences +had approached the menace of these silent trees.</p> + +<p>Pausing to rest in an area where an unusual amount of indirect light +filtered down through the lofty screen of leaves he looked about him, +found no tree he could identify, and felt the hostility that strange +growths radiate. His thoughts flew back to the security and +friendliness of the elms and maples of his boyhood haunts. As he +peered through the endless avenues of trunks that rose from the dark +slope, he learned what fear is. But he went on, faster.</p> + +<p>An hour later, clambering over the trunk of a huge windfall that +blocked his path, he jumped down upon something that half pierced the +heel of his heavy shoe. Leaning back upon the big log he tugged till +the foot was released. He had landed upon a carpet of leaves which +concealed a number of sharpened bamboo stakes bedded deep in the +ground, point upward. Raking out the leaves with a stick, he uncovered +a nest of sixteen spearheads smeared with the brown venom.</p> + +<p>Forced to study his every footfall, he made slower progress. He was +far up the great slope when he noticed that the tangled underbrush had +given way to a smooth carpet of leaves. Night was near, so he halted +when he came to an open spot, a place where volcanic rock precluded +vegetable growth. Water, steaming hot, poured from a fissure.</p> + +<p>It was the first time he had sighted the sky since morning, and here +he saw the only sign of life the day had afforded. Two gray pigeons +flew side by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> side across the opening in the trees, winging toward the +crest of the mountain.</p> + +<p>Sleep did not come to him. All through the night he sat by the fire, +staring out into the ruddy circle of vision illumined by the blaze, +peering into the shadows cast by the great trunks. Once a dead limb +fell from a towering tree that stood just at the edge of the circle of +light: he started violently, his hand darting into his shirt front to +his gun. He relaxed, slowly. Big drops of moisture dripped from the +invisible treetops. Thinking it nearly dawn he consulted his watch. It +was eleven o'clock.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he sensed that he was no longer alone, felt the presence of +stealthy forms in the surrounding darkness, heard a twig snap in the +still forest behind him. He waited, tense, the hair at the back of his +neck stiffening as he thought of blowpipes and of darts poisoned by +steeping in the putrid entrails of wild hogs.</p> + +<p>He felt the scrutiny of hostile eyes. Certain that he detected the +movement of an indistinct figure on the rim of the firelight, he threw +on a handful of dry twigs hoping to uncover the prowlers, but the +flareup revealed only an enlarged circle of great trees and emphasized +their shadows. He sat motionless, his eyes focussed sharply upon the +spot, and as the fire died down he saw the flicker of a dark form as +it darted from the shadow of the tree and dissolved into the bordering +gloom.</p> + +<p>He gritted his teeth in an agony of suspense and enforced inaction. As +the long minutes crawled by he writhed inwardly in the horror of +waiting for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> the stinging impact of the feathered messengers of death, +marshalled every resource of his will in his effort to appear casual, +unafraid, confident of friendly reception.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the silence of the night hills was broken by a weird sound +that rolled down from the heights. He listened, rigid, and realized +that some one was striking a small agong. It came from the crest. +Three times the faint resonance was carried down, the last note +humming long in the tunnel of forest and fading out in slow-dying +vibrations.</p> + +<p>Listening, he noted a change in the forest about him. Minutes passed, +and at last he realized that he was alone, the lurking figures had +been recalled. In the reaction fatigue came, and he wrapped himself in +the blanket and fell asleep.</p> + +<p>At sunrise he was off again, climbing the mountain side, confident +that the recall of his midnight visitors had ended all dangers. The +night would see him at the summit.... APO!</p> + +<p>But with the sense of personal security there came a deep apprehension +of what he would find at the end of his strange quest. His worry over +the fate of the friend for whom he had made this venture increased +with every hour. As the day wore on he fell into a panic of +foreboding, scarce noting that the forest had lost its sinister +aspects, had opened into a lovely wood of sun-splashed vistas broken +here and there by great rugs of thick grass which tempered the beat of +the afternoon sun striking through the openings above the frequent +clearings.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he stopped, sniffing to identify the odor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> that had rapped at +his heedless nostrils for an hour. Disbelieving the testimony of his +sense of smell he scanned the woods for visual evidence, for the first +time taking in the quiet beauty of the scene. Finding the objects for +which he searched he exclaimed aloud in his wonder.</p> + +<p>"Pines! Pines! Sus-marie-hosep!"</p> + +<p>He drank in the bracing spice of the rare atmosphere, glorying in the +clear coolness of the altitude after the months of oppressive heat in +the lowlands.</p> + +<p>"Real, honest-to-heaven pines—that puts me a clean mile above sea +level!"</p> + +<p>Worry came again, and he turned to continue his ascent, but halted in +midstride as he discovered a form that stood, motionless, upon a +grassy plot a few rods above him. A Hillman confronted him!</p> + +<p>Evidently a young fighting man, of small stature but wonderfully +developed of shoulder and limb, full chested and round of barrel, his +brown skin covered only with a red G-string, spear in hand, he +returned the Major's stare with a steady gaze of appraisal. For a long +minute he remained poised, then beckoned to the Major to follow him +and whirling with a flirt of his long black hair he led the way up the +acclivity, bearing to the right of the course the Major had taken.</p> + +<p>The Major turned his back to the savage while he reached into his +shirt to put his pistol at full cock and safe, then followed him. The +ascent stiffened abruptly, then ended, so that they came out on a +wooded plateau a half-mile square in the center of which the crest of +the mountain reared in a last upheave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> of perfect cone several hundred +feet high. Skirting the edge of the cone they emerged from the woods +and came to the border of a village.</p> + +<p>The Major paused at the edge of the clearing, congratulating himself +upon the wonderful good fortune that had brought him safely among the +Hill People, and studying the village. A large number of crude +thatched huts had been erected scatteringly at the bases of the trees +surrounding the level clearing. Not a soul was in sight except the +young warrior who had acted as his guide, who stood in front of a +shack somewhat larger and better built than its neighbors.</p> + +<p>As the Major stepped into the clearing he saw a figure appear at the +door, and his sturdy heart lodged in his throat as he leaped forward.</p> + +<p>It was Terry.</p> + +<p>They met in the center of the clearing near the smoldering cooking +fire, their hands gripping hard. Their eyes were moist with the relief +each found in the other's safety. Both struggled for apt expression of +their pentup emotions.</p> + +<p>The Major found his tongue first.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's fine air up here," he offered.</p> + +<p>"Ayeh." Terry's grin was uncertain. "And there's so much of it!"</p> + +<p>And they shook hands on it, complacently.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE HILL PEOPLE</h3> + + +<p>Occasionally one passes a stranger on the street whose face bears the +unmistakable imprint of recent pain, a patient line of mouth and +haunting glow of eyes that have looked close into the eternal shadows. +Terry bore this look.</p> + +<p>He unbuckled the Major's pack straps and relieving him of the load led +him into the shack he occupied. It was a small hut, roofed and sided +with grass woven into a bamboo lattice work; stilted six feet above +the ground it trembled under the Major's heavy tread. A woven bamboo +partition divided it into two small halves, and each room was bare +save for a slatted cot that served as chair by day and couch by night. +The breeze blew up through the strips of bamboo flooring.</p> + +<p>Exhausted the Major sank down upon the hard cot but rose to sitting +posture to study Terry with bloodshot eyes.</p> + +<p>"Terry," he said, "you're looking a little—what the folks back home +call 'peaked'."</p> + +<p>Terry's face was a little haggard, his body a little slimmer, the +steady gray eyes were deeper set.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm all right." He seated himself on the ledge of the window near +the Major. "You had a tight go of it last night. Did you hear the +little agong ring?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"The young Hillmen wanted to wipe you out. I had to work pretty hard +with Ohto—the old chief—to persuade him to let you come in +unharmed." His face clouded. "I have been worried ever since you +started into the Hills."</p> + +<p>"How did you know that I was coming?"</p> + +<p>"Major, that's why I have been so worried about not being able to +start back—I knew that you would come as soon as you heard."</p> + +<p>The Major flushed in quick pleasure at the unconscious tribute to his +friendship and his courage. He filled his pipe and smoked contentedly. +It was the biggest hour that he had ever known. Terry unharmed, well; +his own hazards surmounted; and the Hill Country penetrated at +last—the impossible again achieved by the Constabulary. He settled +back comfortably, using his pack as a pillow.</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about it," he said.</p> + +<p>"There is not much to tell, Major. You must already know all about the +way in which the Macabebes finished what Malabanan started, and of +Sakay's leap into the pool—did Sears dynamite that pool?"</p> + +<p>Horror shadowed the steady eyes till the Major assured him that the +pool and its dweller were of the past.</p> + +<p>"Major, that Sakay affair was pretty—bad: I keep wondering if I +missed him—I would hate to think that.... Well, I had not felt well +all day. I must have been exposed to that fever at Dalag and—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guess you had! Merchant told me about that!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<p>Terry flushed and went on. "I started through the brush to get to the +doctor, but I must have been sicker than I thought, for I don't +remember anything after entering the woods. It's all a dream to me. +Something pulled me up this way—I've always hoped to be the one to +open up the Hills—and I kept coming. I remember lying down at dusk +and being picked up and carried through the night. I must have been +delirious for about ten days, but had conscious periods every day. +Every time I had a clear spell I swallowed several tablets of the +quinine Sears gave me. I guess that quinine saved me—I would like to +have Sears know about it.</p> + +<p>"Those ten days are rather confused, of course, but I remember the +care the women gave me and some of their rough remedies. I came out of +the delirium two weeks ago but was pretty weak, so did not try to get +up, but lay there listening to their talk. Their dialect is quite like +the Bogobo—I think they're just a tribe of Bogobos separated from the +others by those infernal woods. I soon learned that they had spared me +and cared for me because they thought that I was daft. You know that +these primitive tribes never molest lunatics—they think that they are +possessed of devils which, if disturbed, will enter the heads of +whoever harms their present host. Probably I raved a good bit on the +way up, when they were following me.</p> + +<p>"When they realized that I was sane the tribe split into two +factions—one wanted to finish me but the other insisted that my +coming was a good augury. It was rather queer to lie here and listen +to the arguments<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> pro and con—I pulled pretty hard for the negative +contenders! The question was finally decided by the old chief, Ohto, +who announced that my fate would be determined when next the limoçons +sang. That settled the immediate question.</p> + +<p>"The limoçon is a big species of pigeon that nests in the Hills. It +seldom sings, and then only at nightfall. It is reverenced by these +people, who believe that it sings prophecies of good or evil, the +character of the omen being determined by the point of the compass in +which it lights to offer its rare evening song. Direction is gauged +from where the Tribal Agong hangs—I will show you that after supper. +It is a queer superstition, Major: they think that a song in the west +means greatest harm—death by famine or disease or intra-tribal wars, +from the north the omen is ill but to a lesser degree, south is good, +but a song from the east augurs greatest happiness to their people."</p> + +<p>The Major was pulling on a dead pipe, absorbed in Terry's story but +building into it all of the suffering and loneliness and suspense +which the lad ignored in the telling.</p> + +<p>"They say that the limoçon has sung in the east but once since it +heralded the birth of Ohto, who is the greatest chief they ever had. +But it has sung in the west eight times—and each time it was followed +by the death of one of Ohto's family. Now the old man is the last of +his line. These things may have been mere coincidences but you can see +why they believe implicitly in their feathered oracles.</p> + +<p>"A week ago, while I was still kept prisoned in this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> hut, the bird +sang in the south, an omen of sufficient favor to cause my release. +Since then I have been free to wander about—and if it had not sung, +my influence would have amounted to nothing when I pled for you. And I +might not have been here to plead.</p> + +<p>"That's about all, Major, except as to what manner of folk these +Hillmen are, and that you will learn better for yourself."</p> + +<p>The Major rose and stepped to the door where they could survey the +village, unseen by the brown people who now swarmed the hard-packed +clearing. They were a squat race. The men, G-stringed, displayed the +same powerful physique that had marked the warrior who had conducted +the Major, the women were clad in a single width of homespun cotton +which draped from waist to knee and passed up over breast and back to +knot at the right shoulder. Men, women and children were all long +haired, and marked alike with broad, high cheek-boned faces flattened +across the bridge of the nose. Their slightly thickened lips and +widened nostrils were offset by large, intelligent eyes. They were +grouped about the fires which burned in the center of the village, the +women tending the pots which steamed over the coals. The fresh hide of +a buck lay in the center of the ring of fires amid heaps of yams and +unthreshed rice.</p> + +<p>"Community cooking," explained Terry. "The young men hunt, the older +ones farm, the girls weave and the old women cook. The scheme works +out well in such a simple manner of living. Such government as they +have is a blending of a little democracy with strong patriarchism. The +old chief, Ohto, lets<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> them have their own way about the little +things, but when he speaks it is the law."</p> + +<p>"How numerous are they?"</p> + +<p>"Six or eight thousand. This is the largest of nine villages scattered +around the crown of the mountain. Ohto rules them all."</p> + +<p>He pointed to a wide lane leading through the fringe of woods into +another and smaller clearing a few hundred feet south.</p> + +<p>"That is where Ohto lives. No one approaches his house unless sent +for. You—we—are to have an audience with him to-night. He set the +time at moonrise."</p> + +<p>"A husky lot," commented the Major. "They're bigger than the Bogobos, +and lighter skinned—but they sure don't get much chance to tan in +these woods!"</p> + +<p>"They're a wild lot, Major, but you'll like them."</p> + +<p>They saw a woman leave the circle of fires and approach their hut +bearing two crude dishes. She hesitated near the door, nervously +searching the newcomer with timid black eyes, but reassured by Terry's +low word she climbed the bamboo steps and laid before them a supper of +venison, yams and boiled rice, then scampered out with a twinkle of +brown legs.</p> + +<p>While they ate the Major outlined the news of Davao. Terry, tired of +the monotonous fare, finished quickly and sat on the threshold, +looking out upon the savages who squatted at supper about the fires.</p> + +<p>"Major," he said, "we arrived here at a strange time. These people are +all worked up over the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> question as to who shall succeed Ohto as chief +of the tribe. You remember I told you that he has no relatives, that +they have all died off. His last grandson died three years ago. He was +to have married—"</p> + +<p>He broke off and turned to face the Major. "You may remember my +reporting a Bogobo tale to the effect that a Spanish baby had been +abducted?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, we looked it up, Terry. It was true."</p> + +<p>"It's true all right. She is here! A wonderful girl, Major, beautiful, +wildly reared but—well, you may see her to-night for yourself. She +was stolen by these people when she was an infant and Ohto's grandson +was three years old, stolen to become his bride when both came of age. +That is the way they keep their chieftain strain fresh—by stealing +children from outside tribes and mating them when they grow up. +Ahma—that is her name—is the only white child they ever abducted.</p> + +<p>"But Ohto's grandson died a year before the marrying age. She has +grown up in Ohto's household, has been taught their beliefs, dresses +like them except that as his adopted daughter she is entitled to finer +things. She is one of them except for the whiteness of her skin. One +of them, yet ... different."</p> + +<p>His voice trailed off into a silence in which the subdued murmurings +of the Hill People sounded loud.</p> + +<p>The Major stirred where he lay stretched on the hard couch: "Who will +succeed this Ohto, then?"</p> + +<p>Terry roused himself. "The tribe is wrought up over this problem, as +well as the problem of our presence here. They gather every night and +discuss the matter. Some want to select a new chief among<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> the young +men and train him so that he will be ready when Ohto dies, others +insist that Ahma—this girl—shall select a husband from among them +and thus raise him automatically to chieftainship. But she laughs at +them all, though there are plenty of aspirants for the honor. The old +chief has said nothing—he just sits and thinks.</p> + +<p>"He loves Ahma with all of the wild love of a savage for the young he +has cared for since infancy. He seems to consider her happiness even +above the wishes and welfare of the tribe."</p> + +<p>"Terry, you said this girl is 'different.' How different?"</p> + +<p>Terry shrugged his shoulders, rose and secured their hats before +answering.</p> + +<p>"You will probably see her to-night, Major. Come, I want to show you +the Tribal Agong."</p> + +<p>Leaving the shack they threaded through the tiers of huts and crossed +through the fringe of trees that surrounded the village, coming out at +the foot of the cone. The huge monolith rose some eight hundred feet +above the tableland on which the village was built. Its symmetrical +slopes were smooth and steep. A goat could not have found footing +anywhere upon its precipitous sides.</p> + +<p>A winding shelf had been cut out of the rock to serve as a trail. It +wound round the cone a dozen times in an ascent of several hundred +feet where it terminated, high above where they stood, in a niche +twenty feet square. Niche and trail had been chipped out of solid rock +and were worn smooth by the rains of many years. Here and there the +smooth surface<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> was checkered with fissures, marks of erosion and +earthquake.</p> + +<p>The Major, head bent far back, breathed deeply:</p> + +<p>"Sus-marie-hosep!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>High above the spot where they stood a granite arm had been carved +over the rock platform in which the winding trail ended, and from this +arm a mammoth bronze agong hung suspended over them.</p> + +<p>"Why, I always thought those stories of the Giant Agong were +just—why, how in thunder did they get it up there? And how did they +cast it? Why—Sus-marie-hosep!"</p> + +<p>The Major gazed up till the muscles at the back of his neck ached: +"Why, it must be fifteen feet in diameter—that striking knob is—why, +the thing must weigh six or seven tons!"</p> + +<p>With this last thought the Major moved uneasily to one side. Terry +grinned at him.</p> + +<p>"I felt that same way when I first stood under it, but I've been up +there. That flimsy-looking arm on which it hangs is two feet thick and +chiseled out of solid granite to form a bracket. I think you are right +about its size—the striking knob in the center is about six inches +wide."</p> + +<p>The Major shook his head, still bewildered: "Terry, I feel as if this +is all a dream—being up here on Apo, this cold air, the smell of the +pines, and now this thing here—Sus-marie-hosep!"</p> + +<p>"The old Bogobo woman who told me of hearing the Agong insisted that +she would live to hear it rung again. It is never rung except at the +marriage of a chieftain or the birth of his heir. These Hillmen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +fairly worship it. They have the most absurd legends as to how it was +cast and hung up there, and of the reasons for the wonderful tone they +say it sounds. They believe that the souls of all the dead limoçons +live on in it forever and that when it is sounded they all burst forth +in song."</p> + +<p>The sun exhausted its last white rays and sank below the low hills +beneath them. Terry moved forward into the narrow trail and indicated +to the Major that he should follow. They ascended slowly, the shelf +narrowing so that by the time they had mounted twice about the base of +the crag they were forced to advance by careful side steps, their +backs against the cliff. Terry stopped at the fourth spiral, his hands +gripping the jagged projections, his back tight against the cliff, and +when the Major reached his side he nodded significantly toward the +horizon.</p> + +<p>The Major slowly withdrew his eyes from the dizzying abruptness of the +fall beneath them, and followed Terry's rapt gaze. The great panorama +of the Gulf lay unfolded beneath their aerie.</p> + +<p>The sun, glowing pink against the crag, cast its huge shadow over the +now tiny huts beneath them. Dusk was already falling over the great +sloping forest that stretched from beneath their feet far into the +Mindanao fastnesses and ended in a dim horizon where pink-blue of sky +melted into the misted billows of distant hills. Far southward the +Celebes was faintly outlined, a frosted mirror framed by primeval +verdure, and to the east the slopes extended down mile upon mile, +flattened, then leveled to edge the great sweep of the gulf.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<p>They stood tight against the clear crest while the swift shadows +gathered the Gulf into its fold. The little valleys faded, and +blackened, and the lower hills disappeared. The gulf narrowed, +shortened, and dissolved into the night. The dark crept swiftly up the +slopes as if envious of the ruby crown set on Apo's forehead by the +abdicating sun.</p> + +<p>A steady wind, cool and fragrant with the odorous pines, streamed +against them, forced their bodies hard against the crag. The Major, +enraptured of the vast grandeur, voiced his exaltation.</p> + +<p>"Jiminy!" he said. "The top of the world! An empire!—an empire of +hemp! And our flag covers it all!"</p> + +<p>Receiving no answer, he carefully pivoted his head so as to face +Terry, and was humbled by what he saw. Terry's face, white in the fast +fading light, was exalted, glowed like that of an esthetic of the +Middle Ages, his eyes shone with a vision wider than that disclosed +from the mountain top.</p> + +<p>"Terry, what do you see—in all this?" the Major asked.</p> + +<p>The wind whipped his words into space. He repeated, louder.</p> + +<p>Terry stirred slightly, answered vaguely, his gaze still fixed upon +the tremendous shadowed expanse below them: "I was thinking of a ... +dozen words ... spoken upon another mountain, words that seem very +real ... and make one feel very small ... in such a place as this."</p> + +<p>The Major puzzled, gave it up. He was on the point of asking +explanation when Terry spoke.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We had best get down from here, Major. It is getting darker."</p> + +<p>It took them but a few minutes to work their way down, but the crag +reared black against ten thousand stars when they reached the base. In +the regions near the equator the sun courses in hot hurry.</p> + +<p>Returned to the hut, the Major sat on the window ledge and Terry at +the threshold. The night was chill with the clear crispness of +altitude. The Major sniffed the pine-laden breeze gratefully.</p> + +<p>"We have found a new Baguio," he said.</p> + +<p>Terry assented, absentmindedly.</p> + +<p>The Major nursed his empty pipe, studying the savages who grouped +around the fires to warm their almost naked bodies. Occasionally one +or two would detach themselves from the groups and approach near where +the two white men sat illumined by the flames, staring at these +strangers in frank curiosity, silent, inscrutable, unafraid. Noticing +the glint of fire upon a nearby row of long-shafted spears which +reared their vicious barbs eight feet above the ground into which they +had been thrust, the Major spoke to Terry.</p> + +<p>"Your pistol?"</p> + +<p>Terry motioned toward his room; "In there. They never bothered me +about it—probably don't know what a pistol is."</p> + +<p>The Major, thinking of the sensation the opening of the Hill Country +would create, of the Governor's joy when he should hear the news, of +the added prestige for his Service, turned to Terry to express +something of his thoughts. But he desisted when he saw by Terry's +flame-illumined countenance that he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> forgotten his presence, for +there was something about the lean wistful face that made his +detachment inviolable.</p> + +<p>Soon the moon rose above the level of the plateau and flooded the +village with a filtered glow. Terry rose.</p> + +<p>"Ohto ordered me to bring you at moonrise." He waited until the Major +had secured the gifts he had packed up, then led the way through the +lane into the smaller clearing.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>AHMA</h3> + + +<p>In the center of the moonlit clearing there stood a larger house than +any in the village. The soft beams of light reflected from the bamboo +sides of the structure and the heavy dew on the thatched roof +glistened like a myriad of fireflies. A wide path led to the porch, +and near this there was set a tripod, fashioned of saplings, from +which was suspended the little agong the Major had heard during the +night.</p> + +<p>As they neared the foot of the ladder that served as stairway the +Major started violently as two brown forms appeared at their elbows; +at a word from Terry they stepped aside to let the two white men pass, +one calling softly to a guard stationed at the top of the ladder. The +door was thrown open and they mounted the bamboo rungs and entered the +house of Ohto.</p> + +<p>Pine torches illuminated the room, which was some twenty feet square, +roughly sided and floored with bamboo slats; there was no ceiling, so +that a quarter of the high-pitched thatching of the house showed +overhead. A dozen middle-aged Hillmen stood along the wall, evidently +the influential men of the village. Across from them an aged Hillman +sat in a rough-hewed, high-backed chair.</p> + +<p>Terry advanced and addressed the old man, his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> whole manner bespeaking +a sincere regard and respect; then he beckoned to the Major.</p> + +<p>"This is Ohto," he said. "I will interpret for you if he does not +understand your dialect."</p> + +<p>The Major faced the fine, austere old patriarch. The brown face had +been wrinkled bewilderingly by the heavy-handed years, but his eyes +still glowed with something of the pride and spirit of his youth. +Wrapped in a thick blanket of hand woven <i>kapok</i>, he confronted them +with that air of dignity and distinction common to those who from +early life have dominated the councils of a community.</p> + +<p>The Major silently tendered his gifts. Ohto motioned to one of his +retainers and in a few monosyllables ordered their distribution among +the people, the red cloth to the women, the beads to the children and +the matches to be divided among the young men. As he retained nothing +for himself the Major produced a new pocket knife he carried, and bade +Terry make Ohto understand that it was for himself. The savage bent +his hoary locks over the treasure, examining the mysterious blades +that opened and closed at his will, and accepted it as his own.</p> + +<p>The Major attempted to address the chief in his scanty Bogobo, +stumbled, and turned to Terry beseechingly.</p> + +<p>"You tell him, Terry. You know what we've got to say better than I +do!"</p> + +<p>So Terry spoke, and though the Major did not know it, he continually +referred to him as his chief, put all of the fine phrases in his name. +The warriors along the wall weighed every word.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>Terry told Ohto of their great pleasure in having entered the Hills, +and of their appreciation of their reception. He extended the +greetings of the White Chief across the waters at Zamboanga, tried to +impress him with the interest the White Chief took in the Hill People +and of his good will toward them: told of the advantages that would +follow intercourse with the lowlands, of the good that would come to +his people from contact with others. Finally he dwelt upon the folly +of isolation, of the benefits of commerce and schools and other +elements of civilization.</p> + +<p>The flare of the pitch torches brought out the sincerity of his face. +The old chief listened, inscrutably, his unwavering gaze fixed upon +the earnest speaker. Before the aged infirmity of Ohto Terry stood in +apt symbol of lithe youth.</p> + +<p>It was apparent that Ohto did not grasp much of what Terry strove to +impart, for the primitive imagination was powerless to understand +institutions he could not conceive. He listened gravely but gave no +inkling of what went on behind the mask of his wise old eyes.</p> + +<p>Terry finished, awaited expression of his decision. For a long time +the patriarch remained silent, idly opening and closing the blades of +his knife. The Hillmen ranged along the wall, who had listened +attentively to Terry's arguments for opening up their country to the +outlanders, waited their chief's pronouncement with set faces and +gleaming eyes, their brown bodies still as bronze figures.</p> + +<p>At last the patriarch raised his head high, so that the snow white +hair fell back across his blanketed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> shoulders. He spoke so slowly +that Terry was able to follow him with whispered interpretations into +the anxious Major's ear.</p> + +<p>"Many rainy seasons have washed my hair white. I live to see strange +things—I never thought to see a white man's face within my +walls—except, perhaps, upon a spear, grinning.</p> + +<p>"When I was born—and no other man or woman of my tribe lives who saw +the sun of that far day—they said, the wise men, that much good would +come to my people before I died.</p> + +<p>"They read it in the stars, they said. No great ill has come, except +to my own blood. All gone—wife, sons, grandsons. Never again will the +Agong ring for one of Ohto's blood!"</p> + +<p>They felt the greater pity because the proud old chieftain demanded no +sympathy, but merely stated the pathetic fact with a simple dignity.</p> + +<p>He was silent for a time, lost in an old man's memories. Then he +turned to one of the four retainers who flanked his chair.</p> + +<p>"I am lonely," he said. "I would that Ahma would sit by me."</p> + +<p>As the swart Hillman crossed the springy floor and rapped gently upon +a closed door, the Major saw that every black eye focussed upon it +with eager expectancy. For a moment the room was palpitant with +suspense. He looked to Terry for explanation, but turned back at the +grinding crunch of the hingeless door which opened to frame a fairer +vision than the Major had ever dreamed, asleep or awake.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + +<p>A white girl had stepped out of the other room and paused a moment +against the dark background of the door to sweep the room with big +black eyes.</p> + +<p>A single piece of white cloth, fringed with bat fur, was draped about +her waist and fell below her knee, the ends passing up in front and +back of her round body to fasten loosely at the right shoulder. This, +with a little sleeveless garment fashioned, bolero-like, out of the +delicate bat skins, and a pair of sandals contrived in such a way as +to bring the hair of the deer skin against the little feet, was all +she wore.</p> + +<p>Bronner scarcely realized the symmetry of the slender form, so lost +was he in the spell of the dark eyes that plumbed his for one long +second, leaving him tingling with a curious conviction that his soul +had been bared. Vivid of white skin, of jet eyes, of a mass of +midnight hair that hung loose to her waist, she radiated the fire and +spirit of vibrant youth.</p> + +<p>"God! Such a girl—up here—all these years!" he breathed.</p> + +<p>She left the doorway and crossing the room with the light grace of +slender, untrammeled limbs, sank down on a bench drawn up at Ohto's +side. He set his withered hand contentedly upon the mass of her hair, +and in a moment he spoke again.</p> + +<p>"If the prophecies of the wise men are to be fulfilled, it must be +soon. The good fortune of which they spoke has not come to my +people—and Ohto cannot tarry long in wait.... Death calls an old man.</p> + +<p>"It may be that the prophecy had to do with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> coming of these white +men. It may be that it would be better to no longer guard the Hills +with balatak and stake and spear and poisoned dart. It may be that our +people would be stronger—happier."</p> + +<p>Again he halted his slow monosyllables, searching the faces of the +Hillmen who waited upon his words: utter devotion and loyalty were +apparent in every brown face. Proudly conscious of their fidelity, he +regarded them kindly, then his thoughts reverted to the girl at his +side, and he gently stroked the lustrous black hair. She sat quiet +under the caress, her head bent down in an attitude that revealed the +white line from shoulder to throat, her eyes sheltered behind long +lashes. At last Ohto raised his head again and when he spoke he gazed +straight at Terry.</p> + +<p>"Ever since we ... found ... her, this lovely flower has flourished. +She now blooms in full blossom in my house—a white orchid on a +gnarled old root.</p> + +<p>"Before Ohto leaves the Hills he would like to see Ahma safe,—guarded +and cherished by one who loves ... and knows. Though not of Ohto's +blood, she is of Ohto's heart. I will that when she finds a stronger +tree upon which to fasten—the Tribal Agong shall be rung for her."</p> + +<p>Astonished out of their racial imperturbability, the Hillmen eyed each +other at this departure from the ancient custom of ringing the Giant +Agong only for those of chieftain blood. The girl's wide eyes raised +to Terry, shifted momentarily to the Major, and lowered.</p> + +<p>The old man concluded: "You both speak fair,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> but I do not know what +is best for my people. I do not know.</p> + +<p>"We must await a sign to guide us. The Spirit will speak to us through +limoçon or nature, will solve the problem that you have brought to us +... and will decide your fate.</p> + +<p>"Until the Spirit speaks, you are safe with us, white men.</p> + +<p>"I am weary now."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The venerable savage gathered the blanket more closely about his thin +shoulders and closed his eyes as if exhausted. One of the four who +stood behind him pointed to the door to indicate that their audience +was at an end. As they passed out, the Major turned for a last look at +Ahma, who was leading the old man into his room.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the clearing he stopped short.</p> + +<p>"Say, you forgot to translate what Ohto said after she came into the +room!"</p> + +<p>Terry smiled whimsically up into the chagrined face: "That's right, I +did! But you seemed to lose interest in his words!"</p> + +<p>As they made their way through the village Terry explained Ohto's +decision, concluding with: "And so he awaits one of their 'signs,' the +appearance of the limoçons, or some freak of weather or natural +phenomenon like an earthquake—they read prophecies in everything."</p> + +<p>The Major sat down heavily upon the bench. He was genuinely disturbed +at this new phase, as he had thought their hazards passed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why," he exclaimed, "that puts us square in the Lap o' Luck! Think of +just waiting around for an earthquake or something—or for some darned +bird to sing! With the opening up of this country as the stake—yes +and our own hides. Sus-marie-hosep!"</p> + +<p>Terry had taken his usual seat on the threshold, chin in hand, his +face bathed in the light of the moon that now hung high overhead and +flooded the mountain top with a friendly glow. The cool night breezes +came in strong gusts which rustled the foliage about them.</p> + +<p>Calmed by Terry's attitude of quiet confidence and strength, the Major +faced their problem coolly, sought a way out. For a while his mind +raced with plans, but each died in the minute of inception. He could +not influence winds, or induce wild birds to sing in given quarters of +the compass, or devise earthquakes. He fell to thinking of Ahma.</p> + +<p>Later, observing Terry closely, he asked: "And what are you dreaming +about now?"</p> + +<p>Terry stirred as though awakened: "Oh, home—mostly."</p> + +<p>The Major wanted to talk, but the patient distress in the voice +deterred him from what seemed intrusion.</p> + +<p>Later he suggested sleep. Terry lighted a torch and stuck it into the +doorway, so that while lighting both rooms its fumes carried into the +open. The Major discarded shoes and leggings, and wrapping himself in +his blanket lay down with his pack as pillow. Terry waited till the +Major had disposed himself as comfortably as possible, then +extinguished the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> torch and went into his own room, closing the door +behind him.</p> + +<p>The Major stared through the dark at the closed door, wondering, as +usual, what was going on behind it. Then as a gust of cold wind blew +in through the window he snugged down into his blanket.</p> + +<p>Another and stronger gust, and he heard the door into Terry's room +creak as it swung to the breeze. Looking up, he learned at last.</p> + +<p>In the rectangular patch of moonlight which entered Terry's room +through a raised window he saw him by the side of the rough slatted +cot, kneeling in that most ancient of attitudes, in which the children +of all the ages have bowed to supplicate and render homage to the +Keeper of the Great Secret.</p> + +<p>The Major's eyes moistened. As the last clear phrase reached him he +again stood flattened against the wind swept crag—"on the top of the +world," and he now understood the "dozen words spoken on another +mountain." They came from Terry's lips low, simple, majestic:</p> + +<p>"—is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory.... Forever...."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>THE SIGN</h3> + + +<p>The sun striking on his face through the open window waked the Major +to the cool clear morning. Sitting up, he saw Terry sunning himself on +the threshold, wrapped in a scant blanket such as Ohto had worn, his +hair wet from his bath in the creek which emptied the big spring at +the foot of the crag. Even in the stupor in which he woke from his +heavy sleep the Major noted the ruddy glow of the skin which covered +Terry's bare arm and leg, was surprised at the development of the +muscles which played into being at each slight movement. His face was +as evenly pallid as ever.</p> + +<p>The Major stopped yawning. "Terry, I always thought of you as +being—sort of skinny, but you're as hard as nails."</p> + +<p>He wrapped closer in the cotton cloth. "I've always taken good care of +myself, Major. From the time when I was a boy I have thought a good +deal about—all sorts of things—and I realized early that one thing +was certain—that this is the only body I'm ever going to have."</p> + +<p>Learning from Terry where he could wash up, the Major made his way to +the creek and after disrobing waded into the deepest spot and soaped +himself liberally. For a moment he enjoyed the bath, but as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +spring was the source of water supply for the village and as the young +women were allotted the task of carrying it, his exhilaration was +short lived. The water came but to his knees, so most of the half hour +he spent in the pool he lay submerged to his chin, his agonized +bachelor face exposed to the maidens who observed him from the spring +three rods away. He would have taken no comfort from the thought—if +it had come to him—that to them comparative nakedness was the normal +state.</p> + +<p>Mountain springs are usually clear and chill, and this was no +exception. He was numb with cold when, hearing a snort of +irrepressible joy behind him, he twisted his head about to discover +Terry enjoying his discomfiture. After Terry drove the girls away the +Major jumped out of the creek and hurried into his clothes, blue +lipped, shivering.</p> + +<p>"T-Terry, you'd better q-q-quit laughing! M-Millions have been +m-m-murdered on less p-p-provocation!"</p> + +<p>After breakfast Terry, intent upon discovery of some way out of their +predicament, left for a long walk. Alone in the little house, the +Major brooded half the morning over the plight in which the old +chief's dictum had placed them, then dismissed the profitless +forebodings and went out to the village to study the natives.</p> + +<p>The clearing was empty of men. A score of the older women were +fetching wood to the fires, another group were washing camotes and +threshing rice with hand flails. Upward of a hundred naked children, +pot-bellied, straightbacked, stared at the big white<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> stranger as he +passed, then ceased their pathetically futile efforts at play and +trooped along behind him, their eyes as old as Ohto's. He looked in at +the young women weaving kapok thread into cloth for blankets and the +garments the women wore, but recognizing in the third house he entered +three of the girls who had watched him in the creek, he fled in +confusion.</p> + +<p>He ate dinner alone, as Terry had not returned. In the afternoon he +continued his study of tribal customs. He had known the Luzon head +hunters intimately, so had a basis of comparison. He went among the +older women freely and sat with them about the fires, practicing his +Bogobo, questioning, enlarging his vocabulary, winning their +friendliness.</p> + +<p>As the afternoon waned he left the clearing, feeling in need of +exercise. He strode rapidly about the circumference of the plateau and +as he threaded the fringe of woods that separated the main clearing +from Ohto's reservation, he halted suddenly as he saw Ahma tripping +toward him on her way to Ohto's house.</p> + +<p>His first wild impulse was to dodge among the trees and avoid her, but +as she had seen him he stood still until she should pass. But she +swerved toward him and approaching with light, swift tread of free +limbs she stopped a few feet before him, smiling.</p> + +<p>Embarrassed by the creamy curves of shoulder and limbs, he sought +diversion in the treetops. She spoke, and at the sound of the clear +little voice he looked at her, and in looking forgot the eccentricity +of her frank costume. Her dark eyes held him: he knew that he was +gazing at the only wholly ingenuous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> being he had ever seen. He +swallowed convulsively.</p> + +<p>"Hello," he said.</p> + +<p>Bronner was subtle to a fault!</p> + +<p>Puzzled at the word, she wrinkled her nose in delicious groping for +understanding, then laughed up at him. And with the laugh something +popped within his sturdy chest.</p> + +<p>He hastily substituted the Hillmen's word of greeting, which he had +learned during the morning, and joined loudly in her merriment. Elated +with this success, he marshalled his resources of dialect to further +impress her but with a last bewildering glance from her dark eyes she +flitted homeward.</p> + +<p>He watched the white figure out of sight in the woods, vaguely aware +that some new emotion had come to him. He stood among the trees some +minutes after she had disappeared, then turned toward the village.</p> + +<p>"Sus-marie-hosep!" he exploded.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>At supper time the clearing was again crowded with the entire +population of the village, the men having returned from their pursuits +of hunting, gardening and patrolling the great slope. Terry and +Bronner talked little, each taking his usual seat at window and door +to idly watch the crowd outside.</p> + +<p>Most of the Hillmen ignored their presence, but one, a squat, powerful +fellow, swaggered by the door where Terry sat. Twice he passed, and +each time he leered derisively at the white man.</p> + +<p>"Who's your friend, Terry?" queried the Major.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's Pud-Pud. He's the town bully—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> never has liked me. He +led the crowd that opposed my—staying. He has bothered Ahma a good +deal, too: wants to marry her. She laughs at him, of course. What have +you been doing all day, Major?"</p> + +<p>The Major told him of everything but the meeting with Ahma, spoke +enthusiastically of the tribe.</p> + +<p>"They're straight Malay, Terry," he wound up. "A pure strain, +something you seldom see in the lowlands where the Spanish and Chinese +have addled the blood. They ought to develop rapidly under proper +guidance—they are a single-minded, sincere, fearless people."</p> + +<p>Terry nodded agreement: "Nor are they the terrible people that the +Bogobos think them. Their fear of them must have been based on dread +of that sinister belt of forest. A good road will end all that."</p> + +<p>They waited till Pud-Pud made a third mocking trip past their hut, gay +in a G-string contrived of a length of the cloth the Major had brought +up: it flamed against the naked brownness of back and legs.</p> + +<p>"He's a lady-killer all right!" Terry said. "Ahma told me that he had +coaxed the calico away from one of the girls."</p> + +<p>The Major stirred. "You saw Ahma to-day?"</p> + +<p>But he had hesitated so long over the question that Terry, sunk in +deep thought, did not hear him, and somehow he did not feel like +repeating. He turned in on the hard bed with new things on his mind. +Measles is not the only affection that "takes harder" near maturity.</p> + +<p>Several days passed without incident. Each morning the clearing +emptied after breakfast as all but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> the cooks left for the day's work. +Usually Terry wandered out alone, returning at evening to sit in the +doorway, lost in study.</p> + +<p>Daily the Major loitered about the village till late afternoon, then +took up his stand in the woods near Ohto's domicile, waiting: and Ahma +never failed him. Bashfully distressed at first in the close proximity +to the wealth of charm revealed by her scant costume, he soon became +unconscious of it, her garb was so entirely congruous to her free, +unschooled nature. He practiced his sketchy dialect upon her, +delighted in each successful transmission of thought, more delighted +in the naïve bewilderment that many of his linguistic efforts wrought +in her frank features.</p> + +<p>The fifth day she failed to appear. He waited long, restless, till +certain that she would not come and then set off through the woods, +his big heart yearning for an unattainable something he could not +define or classify.</p> + +<p>Regardless of where he went the Major crossed the tableland and +started down the incline of the slope. A mile, and he came across some +young hunters beating deer into a fenced runway that converged to a +narrow opening where two warriors stood ready, armed with great +spears. He turned to the left, crossing a little burnt clearing which +still bore the stubble of the season's harvest. Another half-mile and +he suddenly came upon a grass lean-to behind which two old Hillmen +grimly stirred a simmering pot from which arose an overpowering +stench: he fled the spot, knowing the sinister character of the +venomous brew.</p> + +<p>The sun was low when he returned to the hut, still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> unhappy over +Ahma's failure to appear. In a few minutes Terry entered the shack. He +had come from the direction of Ohto's house, and his face was cleared +of the perplexity of the last few days.</p> + +<p>During supper Terry studied the moody face of his friend, but forebore +comment. At the hour of sunset—the hour when the superstitious +Hillmen looked for their "signs"—the savages thronged the clearing in +mute expectancy. It was apparent that Ohto's injunction had been +communicated throughout the Hills, as each night the crowd who waited +the sign was augmented by contingents from other villages. The +hundreds stood, silent, as the sun sank slowly into a horizon of white +clouds which flushed pink, brightened into shades of rose and crimson. +For a brief moment the upturned faces of the brown host were ruddied; +they stood motionless, mute, while dusk settled. Then night fell +almost at a stroke.</p> + +<p>Again there had been no revelation. As the heaped fires illuminated +the clearing, five mature Hillmen stalked past the white men's hut and +into the forest. Terry identified them to the Major as the sub-chiefs +who ruled the five adjacent villages.</p> + +<p>The Major sat in the window a while, watching the Hillmen, who +squatted around the fires smoking their ridiculously tiny pipes and +conversing in low gutturals. He fidgeted, then left Terry +unceremoniously and skirting the village through the woods unseen by +the crowd, he waited an hour near Ohto's house in the hope of seeing +Ahma. Disappointed, he returned and threw himself on the cot.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<p>Terry sat in his accustomed place in the doorway, watching the fleecy +clouds that a high wind drove across the sky, vast sliding shutters +which opened and closed over the cool glow of the moon. The cold +breeze chilled the Major, and he drew his blanket tight about him. +Terry's voice roused him from his dejected reverie.</p> + +<p>"Major, I notice that you didn't carry your gun to-day. Don't go +without it again."</p> + +<p>The Major half rose: "Why—you don't think—I haven't seen any +indication of—"</p> + +<p>"I guess you've forgotten that we are in the Hill Country. If they +find a 'sign' that is unfavorable to us—there won't be any delay. And +we don't want to sell out cheaply."</p> + +<p>The grave judicial tones startled the Major. In his absorption in the +white girl he had lost sight of their precarious situation.</p> + +<p>Terry went on: "The tide of sentiment is turning against us. They seem +more antagonistic, more sullen. So please be careful."</p> + +<p>Terry lapsed silent and sat in the door, chin in hand. Soon the +increasing wind drove the Major under his blanket again, and overcome +by a curious feeling of comfort and security in the mere presence of +the slight figure huddled at the door, he soon fell asleep.</p> + +<p>Terry, unmindful of the chill breeze, remained in the doorway, deep in +thought. Suddenly he brought his hand to his knee in quick decision, +and after tip-toeing over to the Major to be sure that he slept, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +silently departed the hut and skirting the edge of the moonlit +clearing, disappeared into the lane that led to the house where Ahma +lived.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Toward morning the Major woke with a start, bewildered by an unearthly +sound that smote his ears. The wind had risen to a gale, tearing the +fleece from the sky, so that the moon peered down upon a sea of +treetops turbulent with the buffets of rushing air.</p> + +<p>He sat up straight to relieve the thunderous humming in his head, then +comprehending that the amazing sound was a reality, he strove to solve +the source of the bewildering tones. A deep, low murmuring filled the +air, swelling in volume with each heavier gust which drove over the +mountain: the sound deepened and strengthened, mounting to a sustained +musical rumble that almost stupefied him.</p> + +<p>"Ooooommmmmm-ah-oooommmmmmmm-ah-oooooo-ommmmmmm." The muffled volume +diminished, increased again with fresh burst of fleeting wind, and as +the wind subsided suddenly, the vibrant note fluttered, died away.</p> + +<p>The Major had lived too long and too much to believe in the +supernatural but in the dark he found relief in the sound of his own +voice.</p> + +<p>"Sus-marie-hosep!" he breathed. "Some ghost! No wonder they believe in +signs up here!"</p> + +<p>He saw that the wind had blown shut the door into Terry's room. +Knowing his habit of ventilation he rose to open it, and as it swung +ajar he saw that Terry was not there.</p> + +<p>He stood in the dim room a moment, staring out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> the window at the +triple rows of huts which the moonlight had transformed into elfin +playhouses. Perplexity as to Terry's whereabouts gave way to deep +anxiety. Then his eyes caught the flicker of something white in the +shadowy grove that fronted Ohto's house. Looking closely, he watched +it flutter away among the trees, then a darker figure emerged from the +spot.</p> + +<p>It was Terry.</p> + +<p>The Major's big hands closed hard upon the bamboo sill. Ahma! Terry! +For the first time in his passionless life he felt the fangs of the +green-eyed monster.</p> + +<p>An impulse to deceive, unusual with him, hurried the Major into the +folds of his blanket before Terry entered, but by the time Terry had +thrown himself upon his couch the Major was ashamed of the duplicity +and spoke to uncover the deceit.</p> + +<p>"Terry, what was that infernal sound that waked me up a while ago?"</p> + +<p>"The gale playing on the Agong, Major."</p> + +<p>The Major said no more but tossed on the hard couch until daylight +shot through the trees. He rose at once and in a few minutes Terry +joined him, a little hollow-eyed with fatigue. The Major pointed at +his soiled shirt and breeches, then at the soaked leggings and shoes.</p> + +<p>"Man, you're a sight! Fall in the creek?"</p> + +<p>Terry grinned contentedly. "No. This waiting was getting +monotonous—so I fixed up a sign for them!"</p> + +<p>"That infernal noise, you mean?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No. The wind always does that."</p> + +<p>"Well, what did you do?"</p> + +<p>Terry's grin broadened. "I'm not going to spoil it for you by telling, +but if you stick around you'll see a sizeable 'natural' phenomenon +within a day or so. In the east, too, the most favorable quarter!"</p> + +<p>The Major could extract nothing further from him, so desisted after an +irate: "Well, you let me in on these stunts after this. You're all +in—and here I lay sleeping all night!"</p> + +<p>Terry sobered. "Major, we did not need you—we got along all right."</p> + +<p>"We?" Heartsick, the Major sought to plunge the iron deeper. But Terry +had slipped out to clean up at the creek before the girls should come.</p> + +<p>That morning they noted that for the first time a number of warriors +hung around the village, watching the hut where the white men lived +with a studied insolence that proved their hostility. Pud-Pud was of +them, and loudest in his talk. At noon a large crowd had gathered, +composed of those most inimical to the strangers.</p> + +<p>While the two stood near the entrance to their shack watching the +eddying currents of almost naked humanity they saw Pud-Pud detach +himself from his companions and swagger toward them, spear in hand.</p> + +<p>The crowd watched him eagerly as he advanced to test the mettle of the +pale outlanders: Pud-Pud had boasted that he would end this suspense.</p> + +<p>The insolent savage advanced, stopped ten feet from them and +brandished his weapon, his attitude one of utter contempt. He spat at +them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rage suffused the Major's face and his hand crept into his shirt +front, but before he could withdraw the gun Terry whispered a +restraining caution.</p> + +<p>"I know him, Major,—a grandstander."</p> + +<p>Terry stepped in front of the Major and returned the savage's stare. A +moment they battled, then the Hillman saw something in the white face +that disconcerted him, so that his offensive black eyes lost their +hint of insult, wavered, fell. As Terry moved toward him slowly, +Pud-Pud hesitated, then gave way before the stern visage of the +approaching American.</p> + +<p>Terry, boring him with cold gray eyes, came faster: retreating rapidly +to maintain his distance from the white man, Pud-Pud hurried his +backward pace toward the ring of silent Hillmen who watched them. +Heedless of his steps, conscious only of an overwhelming desire to +maintain a safe distance from this purposeful white man whom he had +affronted, Pud-Pud backed away, eyes fastened upon the pale avenger.</p> + +<p>Moving suddenly to the right, Terry forced him to alter the direction +of his hurrying footsteps. The rapid heels hit a bowlder and Pud-Pud +fell backward into one of the cooking places, his spear flying +aimlessly into the air as the sitting portions of his anatomy came +into contact with the red hot stones.</p> + +<p>One howl and one swift contortion of outraged flesh lifted him from +the spot and he escaped through the crowd, followed by the mocking +laughter of the Hillmen. Terry picked up the spear and crossed the +circle of savages to hand it to the largest and loudest savage in the +group to which the braggart had belonged. He looked him full in the +eye with a significance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> fully understood by the onlookers, then +turned his back upon him and returned to the Major.</p> + +<p>The Major was convulsed: "I saw what you—had in mind—when you +circled him toward it," he laughed. "It must have been hot with +nothing but a red G-string between his rump and those coals!"</p> + +<p>But the incident was significant of the attitude of many of the +Hillmen. Inside the hut they examined their pistols carefully, Terry +insisting that the Major take two of his extra magazines.</p> + +<p>The Major, in grim mood, left for a long walk. In crossing the +clearing he purposely cut straight toward a group of warriors who at +the last moment stepped sullenly aside to let him pass. Surlily +pleased with his little victory, he crossed the broad plateau and +struck down the slope, unconscious of his direction in the worried +fumbling of his problems and his hurt. He started down the first great +incline, distrait, sorely troubled. He crossed a green expanse where +grass had sprung up over the site of an abandoned clearing, and as he +reached the trees which marked its edge he was startled by the sudden +appearance of two Hillmen who stepped out to confront him, pointing +their spears toward the village in unmistakable gesture.</p> + +<p>As he angrily struck another course he realized for the first time how +complete his absorption in Ahma had become. He had forgotten that he +and Terry were prisoners, had lost sight of the mission that had +brought him into the Hills.</p> + +<p>Chastened, he slowly retraced his way to the edge of the woods and sat +down upon a windfall to think it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> all out. He blamed only himself. Her +interest in him, he thought dully, had been but a friendship natural +toward the friend of the one for whom she cared. Little things came +back to him: her expression when she watched Terry approach, the +sympathy that existed between them, little understandings which he had +attributed to nothing more than longer acquaintance. It suddenly +occurred to him that she had helped nurse him when he was ill. And it +came to him that he had given little thought to the days when Terry +had fought off death, had been heedless of what those days must have +been when Terry looked from the mountain deep into the valley of the +shadow, he groaned aloud.</p> + +<p>He shook his head, miserably: "Here I've been, mooning around like +a—like a—and left him to do all the worrying—all the planning! Last +night I slept while he—" He cursed himself for a fatuous fool.</p> + +<p>When he rose, the bitterness of spirit had left him, and his sacrifice +had been made, but his lips were white with suffering.</p> + +<p>As he neared the village his course took him about the base of the +crag, and as he rounded the western side he heard the murmur of +subdued voices. He slowed and approached cautiously. A jutting +buttress of rock masked the talkers until he was almost upon them, and +as he turned this corner he halted in a wretched pang of the jealousy +he thought he had subdued.</p> + +<p>Terry and Ahma sat on a bench of rock, their backs to him, unaware of +his presence. Terry's trim head was bent forward as if he studied the +western horizon;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> she leaned against him in gentle contact of firm +white shoulder.</p> + +<p>For a moment the Major's heart thumped painfully, then the confusion +of the unwitting eavesdropper compelled him to make his presence +known. He did so with that fine discrimination and artful delicacy he +summoned in times of emotional stress.</p> + +<p>"Hello," he said.</p> + +<p>Both turned, and rose, unembarrassed. Terry's welcome shone in his +face, and Ahma was radiant with a quick emotion which, true to the +traditions of those among whom she had been reared, she made no effort +to dissemble or restrain. The Major dropped his eyes before the gaze, +noting, dully, how wind and sun had faintly tanned the neck and +shoulders and limbs. Sun and wind were patent, too, in the vigor and +elasticity of the slim, loose clad form.</p> + +<p>"I'm teaching her English, Major," Terry said.</p> + +<p>For a moment she maintained her searching of the Major's averted eyes, +then spoke a word to Terry and turned to go. A few steps took her to +the buttress, where she stopped and turned her eyes full upon the +Major, and spoke in English, teasingly:</p> + +<p>"Hello, sir."</p> + +<p>The Major answered in a voice that sounded harsh in his own ears and +watched her disappear around the corner. Then he spoke to Terry +without facing him.</p> + +<p>"She does speak English!"</p> + +<p>"Not much, yet. She really meant 'good-by.'"</p> + +<p>They started toward the village slowly, each wrapped in his own +meditations. Passing round the eastern side of the cone, Terry halted +to gaze searchingly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> at the Great Agong hung over the stone platform +far overhead. Anxiety was evident in his manner as he hastened to +catch up with the Major, who had walked on.</p> + +<p>The throng had gathered earlier than usual, the clearing was packed +more densely than upon any previous afternoon. The two Americans +avoided the clearing, passing to their shack directly through the +woods.</p> + +<p>The Major dropped down on his bench and pillowed his head on what +remained of his pack, staring up at the grass roofing. Shortly the +serving woman appeared with their suppers, but neither moved, so she +placed the two bowls on the floor mat near where Terry sat and +withdrew noiselessly.</p> + +<p>As the sun sank below the trees, the Major stirred out of his +melancholy and twisting over on the hard cot sought the reason for +Terry's long silence. Terry sat, as always, at the top of the crude +steps, gazing over the trees. The Major was shocked at the utter +dejection of the slumped figure, the pain that showed in the set +muscles of the thin face.</p> + +<p>The Major sat up. "What is the matter, Terry? You aren't sick?"</p> + +<p>"No, Major. I'm all right." His tone was weary.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter! Is this suspense—"</p> + +<p>Terry shook his head. "No, Major. It's something else—something home. +I expected—I hoped for some news before I came up—news I did not +receive."</p> + +<p>A flash of memory, and the Major asked: "A cable?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>At the bare nod of head he jumped upright and reaching into his hip +pocket brought out his purse to extract the cablegram he had brought +up but forgotten. Crossing the little room, he dropped it on Terry's +knees.</p> + +<p>Terry ripped open the envelope, hesitated, then unfolded the message. +And as the Major looked on, every vestige of care and patient +suffering left the white face, the wistful line was ironed from the +corner of his mouth and Terry stood up a joyous, vibrant youth.</p> + +<p>He had read:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Lieut. Richard Terry, P.C.</p> + +<p class="letterDate">Davao, Mindanao, P. I.</p> + +<p>At last the perfect Christmas gift. Am sailing immediately +to claim it. Arriving Zamboanga January twenty-sixth with +Susan and Ellis.</p> + +<p class="author">Deane.</p></blockquote> + +<p>He carefully refolded the sheet and placed it in his shirt pocket, +then turned to the Major, his eyes darkened with such a joy as the +Major had never seen.</p> + +<p>"This message will cost you a wedding present, Major!"</p> + +<p>"What now?" asked the Major. Things were moving too fast since he +reached the Hills.</p> + +<p>"It is from ... a girl. I left home—oh, foolishly. But she is on her +way over here, with my sister and brother-in-law. That's where the +present comes in!"</p> + +<p>"But—but—what about Ahma?"</p> + +<p>"Ahma?" Terry asked, in his turn astounded. In Terry's bewilderment +the Major understood that his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> own unhappiness had been unfounded. At +his shout of delight the Hillmen all turned toward the white men's +hut, wondering at the joyous antics of the strange pair.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the Major had calmed sufficiently to discuss their +affairs.</p> + +<p>"But, Major," Terry asked him, "why did you think that we—Ahma and +I—that we—you know?"</p> + +<p>"Why, everything. I saw you leave her early this morning over there in +the woods. Then, this afternoon—the way you sat together, and—and +everything!"</p> + +<p>"Last night—why, she helped me fix up that 'sign' I told you about: +and to-day we were talking about you—she has asked me a million +questions about you—and about white girls. She has a jealous streak +in her—as you will learn!"</p> + +<p>More explanations, and Terry suddenly reverted to their plight.</p> + +<p>"Now everything depends upon that sign I fabricated. If it fails—or +if an unfavorable natural sign comes first.... You know I must be in +Zamboanga on the twenty-sixth, some way."</p> + +<p>He lapsed into reverie. The Major fidgeted, reached for his hat and +stepped to the door, a bit shamefaced.</p> + +<p>"Terry," he said, awkwardly, "if you don't mind I think I'll run over +toward Ahma's house. There is a lot to talk over with her now and I +guess I—"</p> + +<p>His words were drowned in a resounding crash that blotted out all +other sounds. The village shook with the jarring impact of some vast +missile striking near,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> the air filled with the roar of shattering +rock and heavy rumble of sliding earth.</p> + +<p>The Hillmen bounded upright at the first terrific crash and stood +transfixed, witless, superstitious fear written upon every brown face.</p> + +<p>A dead silence followed the dying out of the last thunderous echoes, +then a child whimpered, another, and the women took up the whining +note. A warrior, one of the sub-chiefs from a neighboring village, +raised a braceleted arm in astounded gesture toward the crag.</p> + +<p>"The <span class="smcap">Sign</span>! The <span class="smcap">Sign</span>!" he shouted.</p> + +<p>The thousand heads raised as one, and taking up the cry, surged toward +the great cone, sifting through the timber like brown seeds through a +screen.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>CIVILIZATION DAWNS IN THE HILLS</h3> + + +<p>When the tumult had subsided, the amazed Major wheeled to face Terry's +quizzical grin.</p> + +<p>"Well, Major," he said, "there is their merry little 'sign'! The darn +thing worked!"</p> + +<p>The Major pulled him toward the door. "Come on," he exclaimed. "Let's +see what happened."</p> + +<p>He hurried down the short ladder ahead of Terry and raced through the +strip of woods to where the mob was packed about the base of the cone. +The Major smashed an unceremonious pathway through the brown jam and +in a moment they stood at the foot of the crest.</p> + +<p>A large segment of the huge pillar of rock had broken off and in +falling had carried thousands of tons of shale and eroded stone. The +immense rock, whose fracture and fall had precipitated the slide, lay +directly under the Tribal Agong, at which the Hillmen were staring up, +dumfounded.</p> + +<p>Following their upward gaze the Major saw that the fallen stone had +formed the platform beneath the Agong, which now pivoted on its +granite bracket over a cliff which fell sheer for hundreds of feet +before curving into the stiff slope where crag fused into tableland. +The great black gong hung directly over them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> Looking closely, +Bronner saw that it swung slowly in the evening breeze, and moved by +the same impulse that had impelled him the first time he stood beneath +it, he shouldered their way through the crowd to a safer position.</p> + +<p>"You need not worry about its falling, Major. It will hang there for a +thousand years."</p> + +<p>"I know it, but it gets me just the—what's that they're yelling?" he +exclaimed, as a swelling chorus of guttural shouts rose from the +excited throng.</p> + +<p>"They are saying that the Tribal Agong can never be sounded +again—without the platform they can't reach it." As a new phrase was +caught up and repeated by hundreds of voices he added: "And now they +are calling for Ohto to interpret the sign!"</p> + +<p>Several of the older savages tore out of the densely packed throng and +sped toward Ohto's house. In a few moments one of them returned and +announced that the chieftain would arrive shortly. The two white men, +absorbed in the drama, did not notice that four of the warriors who +had summoned Ohto had returned by another path and taken up their +position behind the captives, spears in hand, grim.</p> + +<p>Ohto advanced slowly through the trees and emerged into the open space +about the crag. The Hillmen gave way respectfully and he walked to the +base of the cone through a wide lane opened up for his passage. Age +slowed his steps but he walked erect, his head held high in simple +dignity and gratitude for the silent homage his people offered.</p> + +<p>Pausing near the base he surveyed the evidences of cleavage of the +ancient rock, the tribe's historic rallying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> point. Then he raised his +eyes to the Agong.</p> + +<p>The dense circle of Hillmen bated their breath while the beloved +patriarch communed with the spirits of the long line who had heard the +happy song of the bronze-lipped gong. A deep hush pervaded the +plateau, now lighted with the last white rays of the dipping sun.</p> + +<p>The sage turned to his people, his furrowed face burdened with an +added melancholy. His voice came low and weak, so that the assemblage +bent forward in strained silence to hear his fateful words. Terry +gripped the Major's arm, whispering the translation.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"Listen, my children. We asked for guidance, and a sign is sent to the +east of Ohto's lodge—a happy omen.</p> + +<p>"The breaking of this age-old stone betokens the breaking of our +ancient custom ... no longer will we bar the stranger from the Hills +... and those who are with us now may go in peace, or stay in peace."</p> + +<p>He paused, and a great sigh of relieved suspense rose from the throng. +The four armed men left their position behind the two white men and +melted into the dense circle.</p> + +<p>Terry gave the Major's arm a last ecstatic squeeze. "It's working out +just as we planned! I'll be back soon."</p> + +<p>He raced through the trees toward Ohto's house, returning in a couple +of minutes to find Ohto still standing with bowed head before his +people.</p> + +<p>A rustle of whispers roused him, and he raised his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> silvered head to +behold the loveliness of his stolen foster-child. Summoned by Terry, +Ahma had come out of the shadows of the trees and stood at the forest +end of the lane made for Ohto's passage through the crowd.</p> + +<p>The old man extended his hand toward her in compelling gesture and she +went to him with the agile swiftness of a half-wild thing. A moment he +lightly stroked the rippling mass of hair, then he turned to his +people again.</p> + +<p>"Ohto said that the Tribal Agong would ring for the marriage of this +white daughter of our tribe—but now—"</p> + +<p>They followed his sadly expressive gaze to where the gong hung far out +over the cliff, inaccessible to human touch.</p> + +<p>"Daughter, it <i>will</i> be rung for you ... somehow.... Ohto has said it. +I hope to live to hear it rung ... when you have found him who is to +share your house—and after that, I do not care."</p> + +<p>He paused again—lost in a patriarch's vague memories of other years. +Retrieving his vagrant thoughts, he caught the frank message of the +upturned face, a message which startled as it pleased him.</p> + +<p>"Ah! You have found him, then? Let him step forth."</p> + +<p>Ohto searched every brown face in the hushed circle, but none stepped +forward.</p> + +<p>Ahma slowly turned her head toward where the two white men stood +apart, her eyes fastened upon Major Bronner. Terry gently pushed him +forward.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> Trembling, his tanned face bloodless, the Major advanced and +took her outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>Ohto studied the Major, then turned to Terry. For a long moment he +searched the lad's strong face, a deep disappointment in his own, +before he again faced the two before him.</p> + +<p>"I had not thought of this. But it will do. It is as it should +be—white will be happier with white. But ... will she stay until Ohto +joins his fathers?"</p> + +<p>The Major hesitated, then answered the sadly anxious question with a +nod. He had no voice.</p> + +<p>"Then she is yours ... after you have found a way to ring the Tribal +Agong for her marriage. Ohto never spoke in vain. Ring the Agong +first."</p> + +<p>The Major's glance swept from Ahma to the lofty gong. His triumphant +joy gave way to deepest dejection. He saw no way to fulfil the chief's +requirement, and he turned despairingly to Terry, who had shouldered +through the crowd and stood beside him.</p> + +<p>The Hillmen had accepted Ohto's interpretation unquestioningly. Their +chief had spoken. The unexpectedness of the new phase, the avowal of +love by the tribe's adopted daughter for one of the outlanders, had +appealed to the keen sense of the dramatic that is shared by all +primitive peoples. Their brown skins coppered by the rosy glow of the +setting sun, they stood in strained suspense awaiting the climax.</p> + +<p>All but Pud-Pud. He jostled an avenue through the innermost ring of +Hillmen and leaped out in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> front of Terry, brandishing a short blow +tube he carried and laughing in shrill derision.</p> + +<p>"Ya, white men! Now ring the Agong! Ring the Agong and get your woman! +I saw! I watched! And I laughed because I knew the Agong would never +ring again! Yeah! Now ring it!"</p> + +<p>The Major was in no mood for finesse: with a vicious shove he sent the +vindictive Pud-Pud sprawling, then turned to Terry, worriedly.</p> + +<p>"What are we going to do?"</p> + +<p>Terry shook his head, at a loss. This was a contingency he had not +foreseen. He glanced penitently at the melancholy girl, at the old man +who waited, swept the circle of tense faces, then resumed his hopeless +contemplation of the gong overhead.</p> + +<p>Swiftly Ahma broke the tableau. Dropping the Major's hand she darted +forward to where Pud-Pud had risen to his knees, her white foot +flashing up to dash from his lips the blow tube he leveled at Terry. +The venomous dart sped aimlessly into the air and fell outside the +ring of Hillmen.</p> + +<p>Pud-Pud's violation of the sanctity of council roused Ohto to a wrath +terrible to see. All of the savagery, all of the unbridled fury of a +primitive, passionate nature mounted to his wrinkled face as he +pointed to the culprit with a majestic gesture that summoned the four +armed men. At a word they hustled the terror-stricken savage away to +await Ohto's judgment.</p> + +<p>Ahma calmly returned to the Major's side and together they resumed +their hopeless contemplation of the Agong. He peered up till his neck +ached.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Terry," he whispered, "to ring it you have to strike that little knob +in the center, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Then inspiration shone in the Major's face. He eyed Terry covertly.</p> + +<p>"Wish we had a rifle," he suggested.</p> + +<p>Terry caught his meaning. He fingered his holster but shook his head. +"It can't be done, Major."</p> + +<p>"Sure it can—sure <i>you</i> can! I've seen you shoot!"</p> + +<p>Terry shook his head but the excited Major insisted: "Try it. Rest +your gun on my head. Sure you can do it—and think what it will +mean—the Hills opened up for all time—think what it will mean to the +Governor—and to the Service!"</p> + +<p>The hushed crowd stiffened as they saw the two white men draw back a +hundred feet, wondered as to the character of the strange black thing +the smaller drew from his leather pocket. They watched intently, +thinking to see sorcery wrought before their eyes.</p> + +<p>Terry cocked the weapon and resting his wrist upon the tall Major's +head, sighted carefully. A thousand pairs of eyes focussed upon him. +Could the slim white man ring the gong by pointing a magic finger?</p> + +<p>The Major, braced for the shock of explosion, felt the iron wrist +tremble, grow limp and lift away. He wheeled around to find Terry +shaking his head, uncertain, faltering. He slowly holstered the gun.</p> + +<p>"Major, I keep thinking how I have deceived—this fine old man," he +said.</p> + +<p>The Major stared at him, then exploded: "By making this 'sign' that +saved your life—and mine?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> Sus-marie-hosep! I've heard of those New +England consciences but—Sus-marie-hosep!"</p> + +<p>Disgust, dismay, affection swept in succession across the Major's +countenance: affection held. He laid his hand upon Terry's shoulder as +he played his ace:</p> + +<p>"Terry, I thought you had a date in Zamboanga on the twenty-sixth!"</p> + +<p>The crowd then saw the white youth stiffen with swift decision, saw +him whirl to face the crag. For a moment he stood with eyes riveted +upon the Agong till the little knob swung toward him, then he bent +slightly at the knees and his hand swept back with a swiftness that +seemed to bring the pistol leaping to meet the extended arm. It raised +to the darkening sky, and the Hills awoke to the resounding crash of +white man's weapons. Six times Terry shot, but only the first two +reports were heard, for the others were swallowed in the booming of +the Agong.</p> + +<p>The sound beat down deafeningly, seemed to enfold them bodily in its +mighty volume, blotting out all else. From the sounding board of cliff +it smote upon their ears in thunderous, sustained, musical tone. +Slowly, the note lessened in volume, deepened, and tumbled down in +vibrant waves that rolled on and on. The sonorous reverberations died +out, then surged again and again in ever fainter, ever deeper tones.</p> + +<p>At last the air quieted, and nothing but the roaring in his ears +remained to convince the Major that the vast sound had been reality. +"Jimmy!" he exploded. "What a noise—and what shooting!"</p> + +<p>A whisper of awe rustled through the surrounding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> ranks. Ignorant of +firearms, they thought the young American wielded some uncanny power +with his black weapon. Already distinguished as the first white man to +set his foot upon Apo, he was now regarded with a feeling akin to +worship.</p> + +<p>Ohto was silent, lost in a protracted, inscrutable study of Terry's +face. At last the old man turned on his heels to sweep the circle of +his people for confirmation of his surmise. Satisfied, he raised his +hand for silence.</p> + +<p>"There has been worry ... doubt ... among you—who should take up +Ohto's burden when he lets it fall ... soon. You are entering new +times, will meet new and strange things. To Ohto it seems best that he +leave his people under the guidance of a young and strong and kind +chief who knows all these strange things ... one who can lead you +safely into the new life. What say you, my people? Who shall sit in +Ohto's chair when he is gone?"</p> + +<p>For a moment the multitude was silent as the significance of Ohto's +query sank into their slow minds, then a murmur of approval rose among +them, swelled into a deafening shout of acclamation.</p> + +<p>"The pale white man! The pale white man!"</p> + +<p>Terry understood. Uncertain, he turned to the Major, but Ohto +interrupted by addressing him directly.</p> + +<p>"You have heard. When Ohto leaves—and it can not be long—he leaves +his people in your hands. You will be patient, kindly, gentle, with +them. That Ohto knows ... it is written in your face."</p> + +<p>As Terry slowly bowed his head slightly in acceptance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> of the trust, +the delighted Hillmen stirred, whispered to each other. The hum of +voices grew louder but was instantly hushed by the dramatic gesture +with which Ohto extended his arm toward a low cotton tree that stood +at the edge of the woods. The thousand eager heads turned almost as +one.</p> + +<p>Upon a slender leafless branch which extended at right angles from the +trunk of a <i>kapok</i> tree two large gray wood pigeons had perched side +by side in the close communion of mated birds, heedless of the host +below them. Unafraid, tired, content with what the day had brought +them in the lowlands, they were happy in safe return together to their +mountain home.</p> + +<p>In the hush which followed recognition by the throng, the limoçons +moved closer to each other, wing brushed wing, sleepy lids lowered +over soft eyes to shut out the crimson glory of the dying sun. Then +the little throats throbbed as they voiced gratitude to their Creator +in gentle, low pitched notes, lilting with the joy of life, plaintive +with the brevity of its span.</p> + +<p>The sweet song died with the day, and as dusk reached down in brief +embrace of tropic earth, the birds winged side by side into the +darkening forest.</p> + +<p>Peace settled upon the face of the old man who had made decision +vitally affecting the welfare of the people over whom he had ruled for +two generations. The limoçons had sung in the East. His fathers were +pleased with him.</p> + +<p>A shout of fierce joy burst from the Hillmen. Then the women +surrounded the dainty white girl and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> bore her off to prepare for the +long ceremony with which the Hill People give in marriage. And the two +friends walked through the woods, arm in arm, silent, profoundly +humble.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>"SUS-MARIE-HOSEP!"</h3> + + +<p>Terry was happily engaged in remaking the Major's old pack for his own +use when the Major entered the torchlit shack. It lacked an hour till +dawn. Outside, the main clearing was dark, but the big fires which +illuminated the surrounding trees revealed the excited natives still +celebrating Ahma's nuptials in the clearing around Ohto's house.</p> + +<p>Terry straightened up from his task and studied the face of his +friend: fatigue and happiness had softened the serious lines that had +given the Major an appearance of age beyond his years.</p> + +<p>"Major, isn't the ceremony finished yet?"</p> + +<p>"No, it takes forty-eight hours to get married up here—and only two +hours to get buried! But a month ago I would have said that it was +about the correct ratio, at that."</p> + +<p>Terry grinned as he finished the pack and threw it on the floor near +the door, then sat beside the Major on the cot.</p> + +<p>"Major, I want to send up a gift for Ahma by the first runner the +postoffice people send through. It's hard to decide what to give her, +because she is entirely different from other girls, and the usual +bridal gifts would hardly do. Can't you help me out?"</p> + +<p>For a minute the Major pondered heavily: "How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> about a mirror? She is +twenty years old and has never seen her own reflection."</p> + +<p>"Just the thing! Enter the civilizing influence of vanity in the Hill +Country!"</p> + +<p>Terry drew a notebook from his shirt pocket. "Major, I have jotted +down a list of things we are going to need for this work up here. I +thought it would be better if I had a definite program to submit to +the Governor, with estimate of appropriations necessary, and so on. +First I listed those things you will need in order to build and +furnish your house: cook stoves, lamps, dishes, window glass, and so +on. I think I have included everything, so just run over those things +you will need to begin this work."</p> + +<p>For an hour earnestly they discussed the problems the Major would +confront pending Terry's return to take up the work. They listed a +wide variety of needs—pigs, chickens, medicines, books, tools, seeds: +contingent upon the Governor's approval, they outlined several months +of planting, trail making, establishment of regular communication with +the lowlands, selection of school teachers, of a health officer—all +of the varied instruments needed for the initial work of elevating the +tribesmen out of their barbarism.</p> + +<p>Dawn had dimmed their torches when they finished. For a while they sat +silent, Terry happy in the outcome of this strange adventure in the +Hills, the Major thrilling with the joy that had come to him.</p> + +<p>The Major broke the silence: "Terry, I AM a chump! All this time I've +forgotten to tell you that a captain's commission is waiting your +acceptance in Zamboanga!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<p>He went on, slowly: "Are you sure that you can come back here for a +year—after your honeymoon? Maybe she—your wife—won't wish to come."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she will." Terry was confident. "It will be for only one year, +and then—"</p> + +<p>"And then what?" the Major demanded after a while.</p> + +<p>"Then—back home, among my own people. I left home foolishly, Major. I +was restless—looking for a dragon to slay. But I have had a year in +which to think—and I see things differently. During the time I was +sick up here I—I ... well, I know now that a man need not cross the +world to find service: he can be just as useful in preventing bunions +as in—as in such lucky ventures as this."</p> + +<p>"Preventing bunions?" The Major was puzzled.</p> + +<p>But Terry did not answer. He had risen to finish his preparations for +the journey down.</p> + +<p>"Just one more thing, Terry. You promised to tell me how you started +that little avalanche—the 'sign.'"</p> + +<p>Something of the serenity faded from Terry's face as he turned to +explain: "I had been up there several times, and had noticed a deep +crevice that split the platform from the parent rock. It would have +fallen within a few months. I carried up some softwood wedges, drove +them into the fault, poured in a lot of water and expansion did the +rest."</p> + +<p>The Major visualized the toil and peril of lugging heavy logs up the +spiral trail at night. "Why didn't you let me help?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Well, Ahma kept guard for me, and that was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> enough. If I had been +caught I could probably have talked myself out of the scrape, but it +might have gone harder with you. Luckily the timbers I used for wedges +were buried in the slide."</p> + +<p>The Major's face clouded swiftly: "Say, Terry! That scoundrel Pud-Pud +said that he saw you that night—he can ruin the thing yet if he +talks!"</p> + +<p>Terry shook his head, a little sorrowfully: "No, Pud-Pud will never +talk to anybody about anything again. I got to Ohto too late: they had +already executed sentence."</p> + +<p>"What did they do with him?"</p> + +<p>"Shot him full of darts and turned him loose in the Dark Forest. So I +confessed to Ohto that I contrived the 'sign.' Of course I made him +understand that you had nothing to do with the—trickery."</p> + +<p>"What did he say—what is he going to do about it?" The Major was +anxious.</p> + +<p>"He had known about it all the time—his men have trailed every step +we have taken, watched everything we have done."</p> + +<p>A slow blush mounted the Major's rugged features as he thought of the +possibility that secret onlookers had witnessed his meeting with Ahma +just before the wedding ceremony when he had sought to teach her the +White Man's customs of caress. The flush persisted as he turned to +Terry.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing I forgot to ask you to buy for me. I want a good +talking machine, with plenty of records." He paused, then continued +abstractedly: "She can keep it in her house."</p> + +<p>Terry looked up in astonishment. "In <i>her</i> house?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> Aren't you both +going to live in the same house?"</p> + +<p>"No. Not till you send a missionary up here to marry us. I don't +figure that two days of savage rites constitutes a marriage—but I'm +going to have a deuce of a time trying to explain it to Ahma!"</p> + +<p>Terry nodded sympathetically and walked the springy floor a dozen +times, nonplussed by the Major's dilemma. Pausing in his preoccupation +before the open window he noted vaguely that the nuptial fires were +yellowing before the approach of dawn: a moment and he started +violently as the solution struck him and he whirled upon the dejected +groom with beaming countenance.</p> + +<p>"Say!" he shouted, "I'm certainly not going down with you two only +half-married—she a bride and you not a groom! You forget that as +Senior Inspector of Constabulary I am an ex-officio Justice of the +Peace! Come on!"</p> + +<p>He lifted the Major by the arm and shot him through the doorway with +an exuberant shove that left him no alternative save a jarring leap to +the ground. Terry landed beside him as light as a cat, and catching +him by the elbow he hurried him on through the woods and into the +fading light of the big fires that burned before Ohto's house.</p> + +<p>Terry, his eyes dancing joyously, broke up the dance with which a +hundred Hill People were keeping the ceremonial pot boiling, and +despatched two women to fetch the bride, who had sought a brief +respite from the interminable ritual. Shortly Ahma appeared before +them, her dark eyes shadowed with fatigue, but radiant with +exaltation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + +<p>Understanding from Terry's few words that the Major desired that they +be united also in accordance with the rites of his own people, she +stepped quietly before Terry and took the Major's outstretched hand. +The crowd of natives, who had crowded about them, waited the alien +ritual curiously.</p> + +<p>Ahma was clad in the white costume in which the Major had first seen +her. A scarlet hibiscus blossom, the Hillmen's nuptial flower, was +thrust in her black hair, but there was no other addition to her scant +covering.</p> + +<p>Possessed of a sudden spirit of banter Terry turned to the Major: +"Before I begin, Major, I wish to congratulate you upon having won to +the bliss of matrimony without violating that bachelor formula which +you so often boasted."</p> + +<p>"What formula?"</p> + +<p>Terry's voice deepened in mimicry: "'No petticoats for mine!'"</p> + +<p>A moment he enjoyed the Major's embarrassment, then composed himself +to the business in hand, happy, confident.</p> + +<p>But—the competent Terry fumbled. Swept away in the exuberance of +having found a way out for the Major, he had forgotten that, never +having exercised his legal privilege of joining in marriage in a +province where all of the natives were either Catholic or Mohammedan, +he was wanting in the phraseology the ceremony demanded.</p> + +<p>Vainly he sought inspiration in a sky chill with the pale lights of +daybreak. He shuffled his feet nervously, scowled at the ring of +brown-skinned spectators,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> looked at his watch. As the sweat of worry +appeared upon his white forehead he drew his handkerchief and wiped +his face vigorously, then blew his nose resoundingly. This last device +seemed to serve.</p> + +<p>He turned to the serene couple who waited patiently: "Do you, John +Bronner, take this woman, Ahma—Ahma of the Hills, to be your lawful +wedded wife, to love and cherish and to—er—provide for?"</p> + +<p>"I do," said the Major. He was proud of Terry—trust the Constabulary +to see a thing through!</p> + +<p>Terry was triumphant in his success. He unconsciously drew up his +slim, muscular figure as he turned to the bride, focussing his gaze +upon the blossom in the waves of jet locks that tumbled smoothly about +the downcast head.</p> + +<p>"And do you, Ahma of the Hills, take this man, John Bronner, to be +your wedded lawful husband, to love and to—er—care for when +he—er—is sick?"</p> + +<p>She caught the groom's whispered instructions and grasped the +wonderful import of the unknown words that Terry had spoken. Twice her +silent lips formed the two words of response in soundless practice, +then she looked up squarely into Terry's eyes and pronounced them.</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>Either the clear voice was too rich with gladness, or else she should +not have turned the starry eyes so suddenly upon him. Lost for a long +moment in the splendor of the vision opened up to him, he forced +himself back to the duty of the minute. But he was off the track +again.</p> + +<p>He floundered for an opening. Bits of biblical and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> legal phrases +raced through his tortured brain, but none seemed appropriate to this +situation. The haunt of the dark eyes obscured his vision, the limpid +"I do," filled his ears. "I do." The significance of the words brought +him back to the point of interruption, and he turned to them, +desperate, vague.</p> + +<p>"You do? You do, eh—you both do ... well, ... join hands! I do say +and declare this twenty-third day of January that you are man and wife +in accord with the law of this land, and now—"</p> + +<p>He glared at the grinning beneficiary of the service, and finished: +"And now—and now what I—what God and I have joined let no man put +asunder ... till death do us part ... so help me God, Amen!"</p> + +<p>In an agony of torment he ripped through the crowd and raced to the +shack, where the Major joined him after taking Ahma into Ohto's house. +It was now broad daylight, and the huts were emptying of the crowd +waking to take up the burden of fiesta.</p> + +<p>Terry buckled up his pack, joining in the Major's mirth.</p> + +<p>"But you are married all right. I will send you up a certificate as +soon as I reach Zamboanga, all signed and sealed and everything."</p> + +<p>They became serious in thought of imminent separation. Now that the +time had come Terry dreaded leaving his friend alone in the Hills.</p> + +<p>"I will relieve you in three months, Major," he said.</p> + +<p>"You needn't hurry—don't forget I'm on a honeymoon, too!"</p> + +<p>Terry hesitated, then risked the question that had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> been bothering +him: "After we come—what are you going to do? Will Ahma be ready to +go below?"</p> + +<p>"No, she will not. I am figuring on leaving her here a few +months—your wife can teach her to—to dress, and all that. And I +can't take her away so long as Ohto lives. After that, I want to take +her to the States. She learns fast, Terry,—and I want her to see +Europe—she will learn a lot there, too!"</p> + +<p>The old woman brought them their breakfast. The Major hurried through +the meal and left to secure a guide to take Terry down, explaining +that he would join him in the woods. Terry ate under the sorrowing +eyes of the faithful woman, and when he finished he presented her with +the only gaud that remained to him, the gold medallion from his fob. +She scurried out to display it, the proudest woman, save one, in all +the Hills.</p> + +<p>Slinging the pack across his shoulders he turned for a last look at +the little hut that had sheltered him. Within its cramped walls he had +suffered, had known grave peril, and great joy. A hint of the old +wistfulness flickered about the corner of his mouth, then he left the +hut and strode through the clearing into the woods, halting to wave +cheerfully at the Hillmen who somberly watched the departure of their +future chief.</p> + +<p>He dipped over the edge of the plateau and found the Major awaiting +him with Ahma and the young warrior who was to guide him down. From +where they stood at the edge of a wide glade they could see far down +over the tops of the trees that matted the slope. In the clear morning +air the mists which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> gleamed over the distant Gulf shone white as +billowed snow. There lay Davao! Davao, then Zamboanga, then—! A +fiercely glad light blazed in Terry's gray eyes, then darkened in +anticipation of leaving the Major alone and with that melancholy with +which all men face the knowledge that even as Life turns the pages of +existence into its happiest chapter, she closes each finished page +forever.</p> + +<p>The Major spoke first. "This guide knows the shortest route. He will +take you safe past all the man traps—you should sleep but one night +on the trail. Give my regards to Lindsey, Sears,—everybody."</p> + +<p>Ahma looked from one to the other, not quite understanding what they +said, but understanding fully what they did not say. That showed in +the face of each.</p> + +<p>"Major, I have never said anything about your—how I feel about your +risking the Hills to search for me, when it meant almost certain +death."</p> + +<p>Death!... For an instant the Major again stood helpless in the dark +woods behind Lindsey's plantation embraced in coils of steel that +quivered, and heard the crash of delivering shots.... He searched the +white face, in which the lines of suffering from a chivalrously +contracted fever still lingered. An extraordinary warm cataract +suddenly obscured his vision.</p> + +<p>"Sus-marie-hosep!" he spluttered. "Good-by."</p> + +<p>Their hands gripped hard in an abiding friendship, then Terry turned +to Ahma doubtfully, at a loss as to how to bid adieu to this creature +of the Hills who knew so few of the white man's words or usages. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +found, too, a source of embarrassment in her new capacity of wife. As +she gazed up at him he looked away in boyish confusion.</p> + +<p>The Major grasped the situation and addressed her very slowly in +English: "Ahma, say good-by to him."</p> + +<p>As she nodded brightly, understanding, the Major turned to Terry as +proud as Punch: "You see—she is learning fast! Can't you imagine her, +all dressed up and everything, in Europe?"</p> + +<p>Terry focussed his eyes safely upon the white line that marked the +part in her hair, and carefully pronounced each English word.</p> + +<p>"Ahma, I am leaving for a while. Understand?"</p> + +<p>She bobbed the dark head: "I do," she said.</p> + +<p>The memories wrought by the limpid "I do" were a bit unsettling. He +addressed the jet locks again: "Good-by."</p> + +<p>She looked at the capable hand he extended toward her, puzzled at the +gesture, then looked at the Major. He said a single word in dialect +and her small white teeth glistened in a smile of comprehension. She +approached close to Terry.</p> + +<p>"I know. You say—good-night. I know how—to good-night."</p> + +<p>Her concentration upon the unaccustomed pronunciations was bewitching. +To relieve the strain of embarrassment he felt in her closeness to +him, he turned to the grinning Major.</p> + +<p>"As you say—she <i>does</i> learn quickly," he offered, rather vaguely.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<p>She came closer still. "Yes, I know—how to—good-night!" she trilled: +"Good-night is kiss!"</p> + +<p>She called it "Keez" but Terry understood. If he did not then he did +an instant later when he felt the clasp of warm round arms, the +molding pressure of a soft form and the swift impress of full +sensitive lips.</p> + +<p>Loosed, he straightened up. His blush was explosive. Bewildered, he +shrugged the light pack higher on his shoulders and gestured his +readiness to the warrior who had stood watching the inexplicable ways +of these strange white folk.</p> + +<p>Following the Hillman, Terry set off across the glade. Midway down the +green sward he wheeled.</p> + +<p>"I should say she <span class="smcap lowercase">DOES</span> learn fast!" he called. "You won't need to take +<span class="smcap lowercase">HER</span> to Europe!"</p> + +<p>The two stood watching him as he followed the powerful little savage. +As the forest swallowed up the slim form the Major blinked rapidly, +and gripped the little hand he held.</p> + +<p>"Sus-marie-hosep!" he exclaimed huskily. "But won't they be glad to +see him in Davao! And in Zamboanga!"</p> + + + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE FOX SKIN</h3> + + +<p>Terry pushed the hardy Hillman to his limit, so that when night fell +they were far down among the foothills, the Dark Forest behind them. +At daylight the Hillman was proudly mounting homeward, Terry's belt +tightly buckled about his naked trunk. The white man's last +dispensable possession had gone as a reward for the service.</p> + +<p>Terry's joyous urge carried him swiftly, so that in an hour he dropped +out of the foothills and into the heat of the jungled lowlands. At +noon he climbed Sears' steps and dropped into a porch chair, his +clothes wet with perspiration and torn by contact with brush and +thorn, for he had cut straight through the woods.</p> + +<p>He had nearly emptied Sears' water bottle when he saw the big planter +coming out of a wonderful growth of hemp. Sears advanced slowly, deep +in thought, not looking up till he had mounted the last step. At sight +of Terry's grinning features he recoiled violently, then as the lad +rose, he jumped forward to wring his hand furiously. Incapable of +coherent speech for several minutes, he at last mastered his vocal +cords.</p> + +<p>"Man! I thought you were a ghost!" he cried.</p> + +<p>Terry sketched his journey into the Hills, and added a brief account +of the experiences he and the Major<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> had undergone. Learning that the +Major was also safe, Sears called a Bogobo boy and issued instructions +that sent him scurrying into one of the Bogobo huts. In a few minutes +he returned bearing a small agong and striker.</p> + +<p>Under Sears' directions he hung it upon a pole in front of the house +and struck it sharply, again and again. As the deep notes carried out +through the still, hot woods Sears motioned to him to desist and +turned to Terry.</p> + +<p>"Listen!" he exclaimed, intent, his hand on Terry's shoulder.</p> + +<p>In a moment another agong, somewhere close to the south, sounded +several times, then another further away, then another, another. Soon +the noon stillness of the brush pulsed with the mystic multi-tones of +scores of far agongs rung from plantations. Slowly the murmur grew as +hundreds of agongs rung by Bogobos in the foothills took up the +signal, flooding the hemplands with a glad, bronze chorus.</p> + +<p>Sears gripped Terry's shoulder hard, his eyes brimming.</p> + +<p>"That's the signal we fixed up," he said. "Welcome home!"</p> + +<p>He hovered over Terry, questioning, commenting, incredulous over the +Major's marriage, overjoyed that the quinine he had given Terry had +been a factor in his recovery. After lunch Terry borrowed Sears' best +pony and rode away with the planter's profane benedictions in his +ears.</p> + +<p>He rode hard, but each familiar landmark, each twist in trail, each +sight of river, each expanse of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> glistening hemp plants, thrilled him +with a sense of homecoming. Once, drawing up to cool and water his +pony, he caught the sparkle of the sunny Gulf, his nostrils sensed its +tang, and with the surge of thanksgiving for the wonderful good +fortune that had attended him, he first realized the strain of the +past weeks.</p> + +<p>Great as was his hurry to reach Davao—an hour's tardiness might mean +the loss of the weekly steamer—he spent a half-hour with Lindsey, who +had ridden out to the trail in the hope of intercepting him. From +Lindsey he learned more of the suspense that had hung over the Gulf +since his disappearance, the deep anxiety that had spread among the +Bogobos and silenced every agong in the foothills.</p> + +<p>"And Terry—the night the Giant Agong rang up there—we most went +crazy!"</p> + +<p>"We wondered if you heard it, Lindsey."</p> + +<p>"Heard it! Heard it? It reached clear over on the East Coast. Boynton +heard it over there."</p> + +<p>Terry pressed on. Three miles below he found Casey was out to meet +him, and further on, Burns. At four o'clock he dismounted to greet +some Bogobos whom he overtook on the trail. Pushing Sears' little +brown hard, he rode into Davao at five o'clock.</p> + +<p>The plaza was crowded. Warned of his coming by the agong chorus, the +whole town had turned out, Americans, Filipinos, Chinese, several +Spaniards and Moros. The sleepy, dusty square waked to their noisy +welcome.</p> + +<p>"<i>El Solitario!! El Conquistador del Malabanan!</i>"</p> + +<p>Laughing, misty eyed with the warmth of their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> greeting, he stood in +the center of the jostling crowd, shaking hands, calling each white, +native and Mongolian by name. Then the Macabebes claimed him and swept +him into the privacy of the cuartel.</p> + +<p>The jealous Matak had waited till Terry entered the house that his +welcome might be unshared.</p> + +<p>"Master, I know you come back. All time I know," he assured him +gravely, then looked him over and sent out for the barber. Solemn and +efficient as ever, he hustled his master under the shower, helped him +into the first starched clothes he had known in five weeks, then went +into the kitchen to frighten the cook into greater haste in +preparation of dinner.</p> + +<p>Barber shears, soap and clean linens restored Terry to his usual +nattiness, and he delighted the cook with the zest with which he +approached a good dinner after the weeks of the crude and +undiversified fare of the Hillmen. Halfway through dinner he beckoned +to Matak who stood with folded arms near the kitchen door as matter of +fact as though the routine of the household had never been disturbed.</p> + +<p>"Matak, when is the mail boat due?"</p> + +<p>"She come this morning, go noontime."</p> + +<p>And this was the twenty-fourth. Terry's keen disappointment was +apparent to the watchful Moro.</p> + +<p>"Master, you want go to Zamboanga?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I must go as soon as possible, Matak."</p> + +<p>"Take little boat Major come in. She still here."</p> + +<p>Terry jumped up from the dinner table and hurried to the dock and +found the speedboat tied up alongside. After a hurried conference with +Adams he raced back to the house, where the forehanded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> Matak was +already packing his bags. Terry added a steamer trunk which held his +civilian clothes, and as dusk fell master and man stepped aboard the +frail craft. Adams was ready. A sharp thrust of foot quickened the +engine into life, and they swung in a short circle. Straightening, +motors roaring, the stern sucked deep as they sped in swift flight +into the south.</p> + +<p>From his seat in the stern Terry watched the light fade out of the +western sky. The stars invaded the deserted field and dimly outlined +the rim of the mountains, a smooth line save where Apo reared high in +the west. For a moment the dark peak seemed lonely to him, but he knew +that the Major was happy on the pine clad height.... After Ohto's +passing, his own responsibility, the guidance of a child-tribe, would +be a heavy one ... a year of that, perhaps, and then—but first ... +his heart throbbed in vivid realization of all that awaited him in +Zamboanga.</p> + +<p>Adams hovered about his engines, happy in Terry's return and in this +opportunity to render him service. Matak stretched out on a cross +seat, unhappy in the deafening roar of the motors and the rhythmic +rise and fall of the speeding craft in the smooth landswells.</p> + +<p>As they rounded Sarangani in the middle of the calm moonlit night +Adams left the cockpit long enough to cover Terry with a thick +blanket, for he had succumbed to the monotonous chorus of the motors +and the lull of the bewitching night at sea.</p> + +<p>As the calm weather held, Adams steered straight for Zamboanga, +putting out to sea in the little motorboat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> When Terry woke Basilan +was in sight, and at five o'clock they rushed down the tidal current +of the Straits and eased into the slip alongside the dock.</p> + +<p>Adams, grimy, worn with his long vigil, grinned contentedly under +Terry's warm thanks. Leaving Matak to secure a bullcart to transport +his luggage to the Major's house Terry hurried down the dock and +entered the Government Building. The clerks had left for the day but +at Terry's knock the Governor himself threw wide the door.</p> + +<p>Profound thankfulness lit Mason's intellectual face. Grasping Terry's +hand he led him into the office.</p> + +<p>"And the Major?" he questioned.</p> + +<p>"Well—and very happy, sir!"</p> + +<p>Keen-eyed, observant, in the moment of welcome the Governor had sensed +the new Terry, read the new contentment and confidence manifest in his +face and bearing.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes Terry had sketched his experiences to his eager +auditor. The Governor contented himself with a bare outline, though +his eyes glistened. The Hills opened!</p> + +<p>"Captain Terry," he said, "come in to-morrow and tell me the +details—I will give you the entire morning. To-morrow I will try to +tell you how happy I am in your safe return, and in the service you +have rendered this Government."</p> + +<p>He rose, beaming with the news it was his privilege to impart.</p> + +<p>"You had best run along now, Captain. You will find three +anxious—friends—awaiting you at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> Major's house. They expected to +arrive to-morrow but caught the transport and docked yesterday. They +will be relieved to see you, for I had to tell them something of the +uncertainty we felt regarding your—whereabouts. Take my car, and run +along!"</p> + +<p>And Terry ran along! He flew down the steps and into the automobile +and in three minutes was leaping up the stairway into the Major's +house.</p> + +<p>Ellis, fatter, somehow absurd in tropic whites, met him at the +entrance. Meeting halfway around the world from where they had parted, +choking with the end of the dread suspense into which the Governor's +guarded references to Terry's disappearance had plunged him, Ellis' +big heart thumped in glad relief, but true to the traditions of his +lifetime environment he strove to repress it, to appear as casual as +though they had been in daily association. Pumping Terry's hand +spasmodically, he measured the ecstatic lad with extravagant care, +studied him from crown to heel.</p> + +<p>"Dick, how do you do it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Do what, Ellis?" Terry's voice was unsteady, too.</p> + +<p>"Keep so fit in this oven of a country—you're as hard as nails!"</p> + +<p>Terry's unsteady laugh rang through the big bungalow: "Go on, you +fakir—you're crying right now!"</p> + +<p>Ellis was. He turned away as Susan rushed out of an adjoining room. +Laughing, sobbing, she threw herself upon her brother, held him away +to study his appearance, hugged him tighter, pouring out a volume of +questions she offered him no opportunity to answer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<p>Five minutes, and she recovered sufficient reason to catch the +significance of Ellis' vehement gestures toward the second of the row +of four bedrooms that opened off the sala. Understanding, she left +Terry and followed Ellis into their room, closing the door with a bang +intended as a signal to another who listened.</p> + +<p>Terry waited, idly stroking the long frond of an air plant that hung +in the wide window near where he stood. He wondered, vaguely, that he +should be so collected, almost unconcerned, in the face of what +awaited him. He saw the door open slowly, wider, then arrest as if the +hand on the knob had faltered, and in the instant his self-possession +deserted him.</p> + +<p>His heart skipped a beat, then accelerated into a heavy thumping that +seemed to fill the room with pulsing muffled roar. He moistened his +lips as the door moved again, opened wide.</p> + +<p>Deane stepped into the room, pale, her wide blue eyes fixed upon him. +Slender, rounded, white of arm and throat, she had fulfilled +gloriously all of the fair promise of her youth. The rich heritage of +womanhood had stamped the softly curved form and the sweetly pensive +face. Virginal, she was a mother of men.</p> + +<p>He faced her from the window, powerless to move, to speak, but there +was that in his eyes that made words unnecessary. Scarce breathing, +atremble, she saw the steady gray eyes blaze with a light no other had +ever seen, ever would see.</p> + +<p>To him she suddenly became unreal, and his mind reverted to another +hour when they had stood facing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> each other. Again she stood before +him in the dimlit hall, sobbing, and with the memory came a surging +realization of what he might have lost. Unconsciously his last words +to her, spoken that Christmas night, sprang brokenly to his lips as he +held out his arms:</p> + +<p>"Don't wait, Deane-girl, don't wait."</p> + +<p>With the sudden deepening of the wistful lines of his mouth she felt a +burning rush of tears, and at his words she crossed to him, starry +eyed, full red lips aquiver.</p> + +<p>There never was a merrier party of four than theirs that night. The +questions flew back and forth, answers clipped short by new and more +pressing queries. Ellis and Susan were full of the newcomers' interest +in the country, its peoples and customs. Deane, quieter, was +interested most in Terry's work, in Davao, in the story of the Hills. +Terry learned of the home friends. Father Jennings, Doctor Mather, Mr. +Hunter, a score of others, had sent messages to him. Deane had brought +special greetings from his friends on the Southside, and a garish +picture of little Richard Terry Ricorro. Half of her larger trunk was +filled with silver and linens which had poured in when news of the +purpose of her journey had sifted through Crampville.</p> + +<p>They were seated on the cool veranda at coffee when the Governor's car +drew up outside the gate, and the chauffeur entered with a note.</p> + +<blockquote><p>Dear Captain Terry:</p> + +<p>This car is yours throughout the stay of your—will not the +word "family" soon properly cover all three of them?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<p>Please use it freely. I have another entirely suited for my +present needs.</p> + +<p>I am very happy to-night, happy in your safe return and in +the achievement you have wrought in the name of the +Government it is my unmerited privilege to head. And this +happiness will be the greater for knowing that you are +driving through this glorious evening by the side of her who +came so far to join her life with yours.</p> + +<p class="author">Mason.</p></blockquote> + +<p>After Terry had read the note aloud Deane added her pleas to his that +Susan and Ellis should share the car with them. But they would have +none of it. When Susan wavered, Ellis became emphatic.</p> + +<p>So the two rode through the tropic night alone, that night and during +the glorious evenings that followed for a week. They came to know +every village along the ribboned roads, each grove of tall palms, each +stretch of beach where smooth highways ran along the coast. She loved +the island empire.</p> + +<p>They talked as such do talk. The third night, as they rolled through +the moonlight down the San Ramon road, he found courage to broach the +one subject he had hesitated to mention.</p> + +<p>"The Governor wants me to stay a year," he faltered. "A year up in the +Hills."</p> + +<p>She had expected it, was ready. She looked full up at him, and in the +soft light her lovely face shone with a strange beauty that humbled +him.</p> + +<p>"Dick, 'and thy people shall be my people.'"</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>They planned their house in the Hills, bought and stored picturesque +odds and ends of furniture and fittings;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> brasses, embroideries, +carved teak: and he outlined their honeymoon, which was to be a +three-months' ramble through Japan, the magic lover's land. They +arranged no exact itinerary, just a wandering through Miajima, Kyoto, +Nikko,—a score of out of the way places.</p> + +<p>The mornings he spent with the enthusiastic Governor, planning, +discussing. Two tons of supplies went out to the Major the fourth day.</p> + +<p>"I put in an assortment of presents for him to give to the Hillmen," +the Governor told him. "And plenty of matches—you say they went wild +over those he packed up. They will be rich!"</p> + +<p>"Governor, the Hillmen are the richest people I have ever seen."</p> + +<p>The Governor was puzzled: "How?"</p> + +<p>"They have everything they want. Land for the clearing, a spear, +cotton growing wild on trees for such clothes as they wear, meat in +the forest, bamboo to cut for shelter against wind and rain, upland +rice springing up from barely scratched soils. No social striving, no +politics, no taxes. All their wants are satisfied—was Croesus as +rich?"</p> + +<p>"Then you do not believe in civilizing them—it means introducing new +wants—some of which they never will satisfy!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do, Governor. Civilization means doctors, less suffering, +longer life: schools and books: agriculture and better diet: commerce +and clothes: churches, and morality—and soap!"</p> + +<p>The day came when Terry and Deane drove down the San Ramon road where +the Governor had preceded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> them, with Ellis and Susan and a score of +the new friends they had made in Zamboanga. Wade had insisted that his +spacious bungalow be the scene of their wedding.</p> + +<p>Even before he had wrought the house into a fairy-land of palm and +cadena and hibiscus the great flowered sweeps of lawn and grove set by +the sea had been an ideal setting. Ellis, given his choice of +functions, had elected to officiate as best man, so the Governor was +happy in giving the bride away. Susan cried, as matrons of honor +always do, as she stood with them in the fret-work of shadows under +the palms which stirred gently in the off-sea breeze.</p> + +<p>None of those most concerned remembered many of the details of the +evening, excepting Matak, who met there a young Moro maid and found +her fair.</p> + +<p>They returned to Zamboanga under enchanting stars, and at nine o'clock +they saw Ellis and Susan leave, for they were returning home at once +through the Suez, taking steamer first for Borneo and Java. Their own +boat left an hour later for Manila, Hong Kong and Nagasaki.</p> + +<p>Bidding Ellis good-by, Terry woke from the dream in which he had moved +through the afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Ellis, do not sell the shoe store. We may be home in a year, and I'll +want to pitch into something."</p> + +<p>"But you'd never fool with that after—after all this over here!"</p> + +<p>Terry laughed happily: "You never can tell, Ellis. I am learning +lessons every day!"</p> + +<p>Later, Ellis sought to dry Susan's tears. "Dick,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> you're a fine lover! +After all these years of search for things for Deane you failed to +give her a wedding gift!"</p> + +<p>Terry flushed miserably, for it was true. But Deane thrilled the more +happily for the utter absorption in her that had expelled all other +things from his mind: she knew that Susan had prompted him to both +engagement and wedding rings.</p> + +<p>From the pier they watched Ellis and Susan at the rail till the +altering course of the brilliantly lighted steamer swept them from +sight.</p> + +<p>An hour later their own liner carried them northward through the dark +Straits.</p> + +<p>The deck was deserted, dark. They sat close, in long steamer chairs, +watching the mysterious coastline of Mindanao, the shadowy masses of +distant mountains that seemed less substance than opaque obstruction +of the warm, starry sky. Neither spoke. It was the hour of fullest +gratitude, of mutual dedication. The night about them was filled with +that humming heard only on a big ship plowing through a calm sea after +sundown, the drone of light winds through lofty rigging, the heavy +slipping of displaced water, the muffled roar of great engines +throbbing in the deep hold.</p> + +<p>Eight bells rang the midnight hour. Deane rose, whispering that she +had a few things to unpack, bidding him come in ten minutes. Leaning +over him, she smoothed his hair lightly with her two hands, curling +about her fingers the obstinate scalp lock that always would stand +forth from his crown. Reaching up, he took her cool hands and held +them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> tightly against his cheeks. Releasing her, he watched the +progress of the buoyant form down the long deck, his soul lit with the +flame that warms all mankind.</p> + +<p>The moon, in its last quarter, peered over the dark rim of the +mountains. When its lower tip cleared, he rose.</p> + +<p>When he joined her in their stateroom, her eyes filled happily as she +watched the fine, white face.</p> + +<p>The fox skin lay on the cabin floor before her berth.</p> + +<br /> + +<p class="heading sc">printed in the united states of america</p> + +<a name="END" id="END"></a> +<div class="trans-note"> +<p class="heading">Transcriber's Notes:</p> +<p>Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as +possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and other +inconsistencies. The transcriber made the following changes to the +text to correct obvious errors:</p> + +<pre class="note"> +1. p. 70, "Sear interrupted" changed to "Sears interrupted" +2. p. 81, "wierd-shaped" changed to "weird-shaped" +3. p. 96, "guaged" changed to "gauged" +4. p. 189, "move toward the fringe" changed to "moved toward the fringe" +5. p. 200, "spit into two factions" changed to "split into two factions" +6. p. 207, "beneath their eerie" changed to "beneath their aerie" +7. p. 219, "the swind swept crag" changed to "the wind swept crag" +</pre> + +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Terry, by Charles Goff Thomson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TERRY *** + +***** This file should be named 20563-h.htm or 20563-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/5/6/20563/ + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Richard J. Shiffer +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of +public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital +Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/20563.txt b/20563.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f2fead1 --- /dev/null +++ b/20563.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8802 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Terry, by Charles Goff Thomson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Terry + A Tale of the Hill People + +Author: Charles Goff Thomson + +Release Date: February 11, 2007 [EBook #20563] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TERRY *** + + + + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Richard J. Shiffer +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of +public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital +Libraries.) + + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: Every effort has been made to replicate this text as +faithfully as possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and other +inconsistencies. Text that has been changed to correct an obvious error by +the publisher is noted at the end of this ebook.] + + + TERRY + + A TALE OF THE HILL PEOPLE + + BY + CHARLES GOFF THOMSON + + + Late Lieut.-Colonel, U. S. Army. + Formerly Assistant Director of Prisons + for Philippine Government + + + + New York + + THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + 1921 + + _All rights reserved_ + + + COPYRIGHT, 1921, + BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + + Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1921 + + + + + DEDICATED TO + + MR. E. J. B. + + WHO HAS GIVEN OF HIS + COUNSEL, SPIRIT AND SUBSTANCE + TO NEEDY YOUNG MEN + + + + +AUTHOR'S NOTE + + +The poem "Casey" used in Chapter IX was written by the late Arthur W. +Ferguson, formerly Executive Secretary for the Philippine Government. +It has been edited and amplified but is substantially as written by +him. A man of unusual facility, Mr. Ferguson composed the verses under +circumstances somewhat similar to those set down herein, and with like +spontaneity. + + + + +CONTENTS + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I THE FOX 1 + II TERRY DECIDES 18 + III MINDANAO 33 + IV THE FANATIC 52 + V NEW FRIENDS, AND AN ENEMY 66 + VI THE LAND OF HEMP 80 + VII THE PYTHON 98 + VIII THE STRICKEN VILLAGE 111 + IX MALABANAN STRIKES 126 + X MALABANAN 141 + XI INTO THE FORBIDDEN HILLS 157 + XII THE MAJOR FOLLOWS 175 + XIII THE HILL PEOPLE 198 + XIV AHMA 211 + XV THE SIGN 220 + XVI CIVILIZATION DAWNS IN THE HILLS 239 + XVII "SUS-MARIE-HOSEP!" 250 + XVIII THE FOX SKIN 262 + + + + +TERRY + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE FOX + + +The frosty silence of the snow-mantled hills was rent by the vicious +crack of a high-powered, small-calibered rifle. The hunter sprang from +the thicket in which he had lain concealed and crossed the gully to a +knoll where a black furry bundle had dropped to the snow after one +convulsive leap. + +Exultant, Terry bent down to examine the silky black coat. + +"Right through the ear. Well, Mister Fox, you're mine--though you did +lead me a merry chase for twelve days! You laughed at me till the snow +came--knew I wouldn't bring you out of your hole with formalin, that +it was a square game we played. But to-day everything broke against +you, boy,--sun and wind and snow. And perhaps hunger." + +The twinge of pain that stabs every true sportsman as he realizes that +he has extinguished a spark of life shadowed Terry's thin, sensitive +face. It was a face of singular appeal, dominated by a queer twist of +upper lip that stamped his mouth with a permanent wistfulness. Even in +the bracing cold of the winter morning his skin was white, but the +clear pallor was belied by the swift energy with which he moved and +the eager sparkle of his dark gray eyes. He picked up the fluffy +bundle and stroked the sleek fur. + +"Hard luck, old boy! But now you'll never be hungry again, or cold. +And I haven't hunted you all this time just for the sake of the +sport." His face lighted. "You're going to be a proud little fox. If +foxes have souls--and I don't see why we should deny you what we lay +selfish claims to for ourselves--yours will rejoice in the purpose of +your end. Every night and every morning you--" + +He broke off as the distant pealing of church bells came to his ears, +carried faintly but clearly by the light wind that whispered over the +snowy stretches of rolling meadowlands. For a long time Terry stood +facing toward the invisible village, his face moody and inscrutable. +As the sound of the bells died away he shook off the spell with +conscious, humorous effort and picking up his rifle and the fox he +went into the thicket to secure and adjust his snowshoes. + +Ignoring paths and sleighroads he made his way toward the town. The +crisp pine-laden air charged his muscles with exuberant excess of the +fine energy of youth and he made his way swiftly across the sparkling +snow that blanketed the gentle landscape, through the thickets of +evergreens and across the tiny, ice-edged creeks that flowed in swift +escape from winter's frozen grip. + +Keen-eyed, he stopped a moment in study of a group of pheasants that +huddled in a clump of underbrush. They played possum till he passed +on. A rabbit, reared up in nervous-nosed inquiry, watched him +furtively as he approached the rock behind which it had vainly sought +concealment. Terry laughed at its ridiculous plight. + +"You'd better improve your strategy, you young scamp, or you'll wind +up in the pot of some one who hunts rabbits!" + +He watched its jumpy flight into a distant copse of young pines, then +went on swiftly. In an hour he paused at the top of a last steep +grade. Lake Champlain stretched her flat-frozen bosom to the north and +south of him. The more level timbered areas of the opposite shore were +broken here and there by clearings in which white farm houses and red +barns nestled like doll houses. + +At the foot of the slope directly beneath him a village lay primly +along the lake shore. It was a square-built town, its limits almost +rectangular, its breadth and width checkered into exact squares by +wide, straight streets. It was an old town: a score of its flat-roofed +structures had been built while the Mohawks still guarded the Western +Gate of the Long House, and many of the great, old-fashioned homes had +stood when Ethan Allen strutted through its streets. + +It was not a snug little town, there was no air of hospitality to +encourage strangers to tarry within its gates, but seemed to promise +"value received" for any who came, paid their way and attended +strictly to their own affairs. + +Thus Terry saw the town in which he had been born and had spent all +of his twenty-six years except the four at Princeton. He tarried, his +eyes fixed upon the cemetery which limited the eastern edge of the +town, to which his father and mother had been carried when he was a +boy of eleven. + +He faced about in lingering appreciation of the blue-vaulted expanse, +then descended toward the village. Whipping off his snowshoes at the +border of the village he entered the main street, which ran straight +through town to the lake front. No one was in sight on the broad +thoroughfare and he found a measure of relief in its emptiness, for +though he did not adhere to the rigid New England doctrine that +governed his neighbors, he found no pleasure in wanton violation of +their stiff code. Realizing that with snowshoes, gun and fox he jarred +heavily upon the atmosphere of the quiet Sunday morning, he hurried +down the street. + +He encountered no one, but as he passed by the ice-incrusted watering +trough at the central square and approached the block made up by +Crampville's three churches, the big doors of his own church were +flung open and the congregation emerged. As the decorous crowd filed +out Terry hesitated a moment, then kept on his way. + +The progress of the lone figure along the opposite side of the street +was the topic of conversation at nearly every dinner table in +Crampville that Sunday. It became a sort of small-town epic, so that +they still tell how stern the elders looked, and how white Terry's +face against the background of black fur which he had thrown across +his shoulder in order to free his right hand that he might gravely +raise his crimson hunting cap in respectful salutation of families he +had known from childhood. And they still tell, too, how Deane Hunter, +flushed with mortification at her father's frigid refusal to recognize +Terry's greeting, checked the nudges and whisperings by calling out a +cheerful "Good Morning, Dick." Her courageous voice still rang in his +ears as he entered the iron-fenced yard that surrounded the home of +his fathers. + +Inside the great, high-ceilinged house Terry stood a while in somber +reflection, then shrugged his trim shoulders and passed through the +shadowy rooms out into the barn. In five minutes he had cleaned and +oiled his rifle, but an hour passed while he carefully removed the +pelt and tacked it taut upon a stretching board. + +He was in the library, reading, when his sister and brother-in-law +came downstairs in response to the dinner bell. Susan and her husband, +Ellis Crofts, had lived in the old mansion since their marriage two +years previously, rather against Ellis' desires. He had wished to set +up an establishment of his own, but had yielded to Susan's pleadings +and Terry's sincere letter from college asking him not to be +instrumental in closing up a house that had been lived in continuously +by the Terrys of four generations. + +They had been among the last to emerge from church, but had come out +in time to see Terry as he opened the gate, and had heard enough of +the murmured comment to understand its significance. It had been +difficult for them to control their emotions as they kept slow step +with the throng down the broad sidewalk. Susan, mortified but loyal to +the core, had set her face in defiant smile lest she burst into tears: +Ellis, devoted to Terry but tickled by the situation, had smothered +his snickers in protracted fits of coughing. + +Terry threw aside a handbook on the curing of pelts and rose at their +entrance, smiling: + +"Well, do you good folks think you are safe in sitting at the same +table with an unrepentant sinner?" + +Susan had been crying. "Oh, Dick! Why did you do it? How do you do +such things?" + +He waved his hand in humorous deprecation. "Easy. It's the simplest +thing I do. It isn't difficult if you have a knack for it." + +"But, Dick, it's no joke. I saw the three elders of our +church--Ballard, Remington and Van Slyke--talking about it, and they +were very bitter. And you know they can expel any church member." + +Terry made no answer save to put his arm around each and lead them +into the dining room. But Susan was not content. + +"Dick, I wish you would explain it to Ballard or Van Slyke. They are +influential men and both are very religious." + +Ellis took a hand: "Their religion is all right, so far as it +goes--but they mix it up with their dyspepsia too much to suit me!" + +As his wife turned rebuking eyes upon him he pursued doggedly: "Not +that their dyspepsia and religion are always mixed; they have their +dyspepsia seven days in the week!" + +She joined in their laughter over Ellis' exaggerated defense, then +turned again to her brother. + +"What are you going to do with that nasty thing you shot, Dick?" + +"Nasty?" broke in Ellis in quick alarm. "You didn't shoot a skunk, did +you?" + +She ignored her husband and persisted: "Tell me why you shot that fox, +Dick. You have been out hunting nearly every day for two weeks and +have shot nothing else, so I know you have a reason." + +"I'm not going to help eat it!" Ellis broke in. "I've heard they are +stringy--and a bit smelly." + +"Ellis, will you stop being ridiculous? Dick, why have you hunted that +fox so long?" + +Ellis had seen that Terry was not to be pumped, that this was another +of his queer quests. He tried again to shunt Susan away. + +"Maybe it was a personal matter between him and the fox, Sue." + +She turned on him a look she endeavored to make disdainful, but only +succeeded in raising another laugh from both. But she was not to be +deterred. Her eyes lit with sudden inspiration. + +"I'll bet--I'll bet anything--" she began. + +"Susan Terry Crofts! Even Dick would not bet on Sunday!" + +"I will bet anything," she insisted, "that it is something for +Deane--for Christmas!" + +In the slight flush that rose in her brother's face Susan learned +that she had hit the mark. But she was instantly sorry that she had +pressed the issue, as she had learned long before to respect what was +to her his queer reticence. + +Ellis hurried into the breach: "Wonder what Bruce will give Deane this +Christmas? He is about due to present her with something really worth +while--like a patent mop!" + +Even Terry laughed. The struggle for Deane's favor between Bruce +Ballard and Terry had been in progress nearly ten years and had become +one of the town's institutions. The first formal offerings tendered by +the two boys on the occasion of her graduation from high school +typified the contrasting characters of the rivals: Terry, idealistic, +impressionable, reserved, had sent her a beautiful copy of the "Love +Letters of a Musician," while Bruce, sincere, obvious and practical, +had given her a hat-pin. + +On her succeeding birthday Terry, after a six-hour climb, had won for +her a box of trailing arbutus from Mount Defiance's cool top; Bruce +had sent her candy. From his medical college at Baltimore Bruce had +sent, as succeeding Christmas gifts, an ivory toilet set, a thermos +bottle, a reading lamp and a chafing dish. + +Terry's offerings on those occasions had been a Japanese kimono +embroidered with her favorite flower--a wondrous thing secured by +correspondence with the American consul at Kobe: a pair of Siamese +kittens which he named Cat-Nip and Cat-Nap: a sandal-wood fan out of +India; and a little, triple-chinned, ebony god of Mirth, its impish +eyes rolled back in merriment, mouth wrinkled with utter joy of the +world. + +The rivalry had divided the town into two camps. The pro-Bruce +faction, composed largely of men folk, claimed for their protege a +splendid common sense in selection of his gifts: but the women and +girls, who made up the other group, envied Deane not only the gifts +Terry gave her, but also--and more so--the rarefied romantic spirit of +the youth who conceived and offered them. + +Deane realized that both Bruce and Terry stayed on in the dull old +town principally to be near her. This was true of Bruce particularly, +as he was a young surgeon of such promise that he had twice been +invited into junior association with Albany's greatest specialist. She +had strongly urged him to embrace the increased opportunity for +service and profit which the city afforded. + +But Terry was only six months out of college, a six months spent in +futile effort to adjust himself to the theme of the village, to find +appropriate outlet for that urgent desire to be of use in the world +which dominated his character. As the Terrys were of those families +termed "comfortable" in Crampville, he felt no need of devoting +himself to adding to an already ample estate. At his sister's request, +he had undertaken to manage a shoe store that represented one of their +holdings but at the end of a couple of months had given it up--also in +accord with her wishes. Higgins, their old clerk, had come to her with +tearful warnings that Terry's unwillingness to refuse credit to any +one who came in with a tale of hard-luck was ruining the business: +and Terry had lost the custom of several good families by declining to +humor their crotchety unreasonableness. + +But Higgins did not know how they came to lose the trade of the Hunter +family. At the end of a trying day of insistent demand for smaller +shoes than feminine feet could accommodate, of viewing bunions and +flat arches and wry-jointed toes, he had written Deane: + + DEANE DEAR:-- + + I used to think that the true glory of Trilby rested in the + wondrous mesmeric voice--but after a month in the shoe + business I know better. Between perfect vocal cords and + perfect feet, give me the feet. + + The word "shoe" used to bring to my mind thoughts of + calfskin, kid, patent leather. But no more! Now I think + of--well, many things. + + I am glad that your family is not among those who favor this + establishment with its patronage. I am very happy in this, + as it is good to think that your dear shoes are but a part + of you, are incidental to your being, and not a consequence + of drear barter and "fitting." + + I will not be over to-night. But I will be thinking of you. + + DICK. + +A bit puzzled, she had shown the note to her father. Irate, he had +issued a mandate that produced the effect Terry had asked. Mr. Hunter +was acutely sensitive about twin corns which had been a part of his +toes so long that he honestly thought them congenital. + +After quitting the store Terry had turned his attention to their farm +properties but, as a careful investigation covering three months had +demonstrated them to be in capable hands, he had returned them to the +full management of the old tenants at the end of the harvest. He had +then studied the possibilities of enlarging their only other business, +a small pulp plant, but after satisfying himself that the meager water +power was being fully utilized and that the location of the mill at +Crampville precluded competition with those more favorably located +that were operated with steam power, he had abandoned the project. For +a month he had been seeking outlet for his restless energy. + +Deane, anxiously watching his endeavor to fit himself into one of +Crampville's narrow grooves and vaguely understanding his unvoiced +craving for wider horizons, dreaded the break she knew would take him +away. Susan, studying him with the uneasy solicitude of an older +sister, saw in Deane an anchor which would hold him to the town. Ellis +had been less concerned, as he had recognized that Terry's intolerance +of the village was but the outcropping of a sane young spirit that +gauged the peaks and sought real service. He had been trying lately to +prepare his wife for Terry's departure to other fields, as he thought +it inevitable. It was a word to this effect that had precipitated the +tears with which she had greeted her brother before dinner. + +Ellis plagued Susan throughout the leisurely meal, Terry adding an +occasional word whenever the flow of affectionate badgering lagged. +Fanny, who had served them since they were children, bustled in and +out, redfaced, wholesome, fruitlessly trying to press upon Terry an +excess of the over-ample dinner. It was a sort of unwritten law in +Crampville that the Sunday dinner should be sufficiently heavy to +drive the menfolk to a long digestive nap. + +Ellis lingered at the table after Terry had excused himself and gone +out into the barn again. Susan helped Fanny clear the old mahogany +table, then sank into a chair beside her abstracted husband. + +"Sue," he said finally, "Dick hasn't said anything lately about +accepting that position in the Philippines, has he?" + +A worried look crept into her smooth face: "No. I supposed he had +decided against it." + +He patted her hand consolingly: "Don't be too confident about his +staying home, Sue. He wants to see things--do things! There isn't much +in this town to hold one of his nature." + +"There's--Deane," she said, hopefully. + +"Sue, don't be so sure of that, either. You know that you and I hold +different theories about that. Don't bank too heavily on yours." He +drummed the polished table a moment before continuing: "He received +another telegram from Washington yesterday--I thought he might have +mentioned it to you." + +"No," she quavered. + +"Nor to me. Guess he doesn't want to worry you." + +She was close to tears again: "I wish he had never met that young +Bronner in college--he gave Dick all these crazy ideas about going to +those horrid islands where his brother is!" + +"Well, Sue, he made me feel the same way--and I'm a fat married man! I +enjoyed his stories of his brother's experiences with the wild people +over there. It must be an interesting life." + +"You don't talk like that to Dick, do you?" she implored. + +"Of course not. But I think you've been too sure that he would stay on +here indefinitely--I think it will take very little to tip the scales +the other way." + +He yawned prodigiously, rousing Susan to an ire that stemmed the flow +of tears which had threatened to overflow her blue eyes. Then, content +with his tactics, he went upstairs for his traditional nap. + + * * * * * + +Later, Terry came into the big living room and stood in front of the +fireplace a long time, his lean face grave and thoughtful. Decision +made, he wrote a note of sincere apology to Doctor Mather, his pastor. +He also wrote Deane that he would not be over in the evening but would +see her during the week, and made the delivery of the notes an excuse +to get the faithful Fanny out into the crisp December afternoon. + +The light in the Terry library burned long after Crampville's other +lights had winked out. He had been picked up by Stevenson and carried +by that pathetic master into the far places of the earth. + + * * * * * + +The next morning he was in the barn, his gay mood revealed by the +running talk addressed to the pelt on which he worked. + +"Well, old boy, only four days to get you into shape for your +dedication, but the book says it can be done. So you might as well +soften up now--"he vigorously rubbed the dried bare side with some +oily preparation--"as later." + +"What a destiny, old chap! Surely no other fox ever born to lady-fox +can be as happy as you're going to be!" He rubbed industriously. +"You're not for me, you know. No, sir! I wouldn't bring you out of the +hills into this burg--where they kill ambition by preaching content +with your lot, where the hoarders of pennies are venerated and the +pluggers canonized--I wouldn't bring you here just for me. For I'm not +worthy of you. No, sir-ree! Don't you know I'm no good--didn't you see +that yesterday? Why, Old Samuel Terwilliger said I'm an atheist +because I quoted Ingersoll's graveside oration--said no Christian +would repeat anything that man ever said, even if his watch is a +bargain at a dollar!... Samuel likes bargains." + +Working rapidly, with no lost motions, he rambled on, congratulatory, +reproachful, whimsical. Having carried the curing to a point where a +twenty-four-hour time process was the next essential factor, he +carefully pegged the skin to the barn door. + + * * * * * + +That evening Susan came running home excitedly, having learned that +one of the elders had asked that a meeting be called to consider +Dick's case, and that the young pastor had very promptly and very +emphatically vetoed the proceeding. It seemed that Bruce had heard of +the move and persuaded his father not to support it, after a stormy +scene in which he had threatened to resign his own membership if they +moved against Terry. + +Ellis looked long at Terry: "Nothing small about Bruce, Dick. Some +fellows, under the circumstances--all the circumstances--might have +let you have it to the hilt." + +Terry smiled gravely. "Good old Bruce," he said. + +He left the room, slowly, and sat alone in the library. It had struck +deep, that even one God-fearing but not God-loving old man should +think him unfit to sit in the church in which his father and mother +had been married, from which they had been carried side by side for +their long rest. It was midnight when he went up the broad staircase +to his room. + +The following afternoon he dropped in to see Father Jennings, the +gentle little priest who had been beloved by two generations of all +denominations--and those of none. Terry loved the old study, which in +forty years had taken on something of the priest's character. It was a +comfortable room; cheerful in its wide windows, warm with a bright +hearthfire, and well worn with long years of service. + +Terry had found friendship and counsel here since his boyhood, had +been one of the procession that passed through the door in search of +wisdom and cheer. All the gossip of the town came to the priest: he +knew of Terry's hunting trip and of the climax which had scandalized +the sterner factions of the community. He was of those who knew Terry +best, and entertained no misgivings about the state of his immortal +soul. + +They talked fitfully, as intimate friends do. The old man knew that it +was worry over the town's harsh reaction to the Sunday fox hunt that +had brought Terry to him. He broached the subject. + +"Dick, I have wanted to see you since Sunday morning. I had a question +to ask you nobody else could answer." + +As Terry turned to him with somber mien he concluded, his eyes +twinkling: "I wanted to know if it was the best fox ever!" + +And that was all, though Terry stayed to sup with him. Till nine +o'clock they sat before the fire, the priest in a worn rocker drawn up +close to the hearth: the single log burning glorified his fine old +face as he placidly rocked and pondered. + +He had spent the morning among his foreign parishioners, who lived in +the squalid section of the town, across the river. A frugal, +law-abiding lot, they furnished the brawn needed in the three pulp +factories and lived a life apart from the balance of the towns-people, +bitterly but voicelessly resenting the villagers' careless ostracism +of all who came under the easy classification of the term "wop." There +existed a tacit agreement among property owners that no house north of +the river should be sold or leased to a foreigner, and that no garlic +might taint the atmosphere their children breathed in school, they had +erected a small schoolhouse upon the southside. So, sequestered six +days in the week in a settlement that was entirely foreign, +communicating their thoughts in the tongues of the Mediterranean and +the Balkans, the southsiders mingled with Americans only during the +brief hours of Sunday worship. + +In his morning visit Father Jennings had again met with several +evidences of Terry's curious influence over the foreigners. Terry +understood them instinctively, grasped their viewpoints and ideals, +and was the only layman on the northside in whom they confided, called +in to settle knotty problems and to partake of the hospitality they +lavished upon appropriate occasions of weddings, christenings and the +neverending procession of days of patron saints. Subtle, romantic, +circumscribed by alien environment, they recognized in him a kindred +spirit and opened their hearts wide to him. Terry, his ardent young +pastor--Dr. Mather--and Father Jennings were the only northsiders whom +they called friends. None of the three had been named on the town's +"Committee on Americanization." ... + +The priest roused from his revery and for a long time contemplated the +quiet, thoughtful lad who sat beside him. Gradually a deep concern +spread across his comfortably aged features, a presentiment of +impending loss shadowed his pleasant eyes. He reached out to lay his +hand on Terry's forearm. + +"Dick," he said, "there is plenty for you to do right here in +Crampville--what is this I hear about your going to the Philippines?" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +TERRY DECIDES + + +Christmas Eve, the large snowflakes drifted slowly down out of a +windless sky. The dusk was cheerful with the sound of sleigh bells +that announced the arrival or departure of last-hour shoppers. + +Terry, at his desk in the great living room, surveyed the finished +trophy happily. It was an unusually black and lustrous pelt. He buried +his face in the silky mat a moment, then drew out paper and pen, and +wrote: + + DEANE-DEAR:-- + + Some three years ago a mother fox suffered that this one + might be born: denied herself food that he might satisfy his + urgent little appetite as he grew bigger and stronger. When + he was big enough he left her and forgot her--she may have + suffered then, too. + + He lived as foxes do. Things died that he might eat; + rabbits, pheasants, chickens, field-mice. He stalked all + things less strong and clever than himself. A cruel cycle, + but it is the law of the wild, something that you and I + cannot alter. + + He enjoyed the summers best, with their longer days, fuller + larders, sweet wood odors, long naps in the cool shadows of + the thicket. But winter came, with its hardships and its + cold, a cold that little foxes feel the same as you and I. + But it was this cold that stimulated and silkened his fur, + made it this wondrous, prized thing. + + Then I came, and he ceased to be what he was--a hunter of + smaller, weaker things--and became what you see here: a + finer thing--a token. Your kind heart need find no cruelty + in a merciful shot that spelled no pain and that by stopping + him assured that gentler, weaker things will live on and on. + + _And he_ will be glad, too, as not _only_ is he forever + freed from cold and hunger and stark fear, but his is to be + a tender office. + + Will you lay it at your bedside, that each night it may + cushion your last step at slumbertime, and each morning + soften the first contact between the vistas of dreamland and + the less yielding surfaces of life to which we wake. + + So even the things of the wild are made to serve. To + serve--is that not the law of man? + + My part in it? But little: none other than I will have + touched it till it reaches your dear hands. I shaped it, + wrought to preserve its beauties that it might give you + pleasure. + + To give pleasure--is that not the law of love? + + A very, very Merry Christmas! + + DICK. + +He sent his gift, at about nine o'clock. In gay mood, he wandered +about the great house: entered the kitchen where Fanny was singeing +the Christmas turkey: returned to the living room to throw a fresh log +in the wide fireplace. His mood was too expansive for indoors. He +donned short coat and thick cap, but as he passed out of the gate a +scared little lad, a foreigner, rushed up breathlessly and begged him +to come--trouble was brewing on the southside. + +His questions elicited meager information. Excited, the lad relapsed +so often into his native tongue that Terry could make nothing of his +tale. + +Hand in hand they hurried through the village, crossed the dark bridge +and approached a ramshackle house from which a babble of voices rose +in strident argument. The excited chorus abated at Terry's sharp knock +and the door was thrown open to disclose the belligerent figure of +Tony Ricorro, the leader of the Italian colony. Recognizing the +reefered figure that smiled up at him through the falling flakes, +Tony's dark scowl faded as he reached out his powerful hands and with +a joyous shout fairly lifted Terry into the house. + +Terry laughed as the gaudily dressed occupants of the room crowded +around him, and greeted most of the score of swarthy men and women by +name. Tony masterfully stripped him of his overcoat and cap and placed +them in the kitchen from which emanated odors of strange things +cooking. The room was stifling with heat and with smells--beer, +garlic, tobacco, perfumes, kerosene. + +Tony charged in from the kitchen with a bottle of beer but Terry shook +his head. Tony was hospitably insistent, "What! No beer?" + +"No thanks, Tony." + +"What's matt'? Bad stomach?" + +"Yes," smiled Terry, "call it that." + +He plunged into the business in hand. "Tony, what's the trouble here +to-night?" + +Tony's first word of explanation was instantly submerged beneath a +chorus of voices; the excited crowd surged around Terry, as voluble of +gesture as of tongue. Pandemonium descended. + +Terry finally silenced the din by standing on his chair and +pantomiming his desire to be heard. "Now, listen to me," he began, +after quiet was restored, "I'm going to ask you all to keep silent, +and to promise me that no one will speak except those I call by name." +They all promised--each one not once but in a series of lengthy +assurances which he had to raise his hand to cut short. + +"Now, Tony, you first. What's the matter?" + +Tony's face registered his utter disgust. "What'sa matt'? What'sa +matt'? Evra teeng 'sa matt'! Tommor' we christen our bab' and evra' +bod' want a name heem!" He glared at the restless circle which ringed +them. + +The odd wistful twist at the corner of Terry's mouth disappeared for a +moment in his slow smile; this was so like these people, who bore big +troubles stoically and reacted powerfully to inconsequentials. + +He called on several others. All were relatives of Tony or of his +wife; sisters, brothers, several "in-laws," Tony's father, two uncles. +Each had his or her name for the child, and sound reasons for the +choice. + +"Tony, where is Felice?" he asked, noting that Tony's wife was not in +the crowded dining room. + +Tony took him into a dimly lighted room, where his wife lay in bed; +the guiltless cause of all this dissension, obviously inured to +clamor, was asleep in her arm. She smiled up at Terry as he sat down +on the edge of the bed and took her hand. + +Tony stood looking down at Felice and their first-born, his heart in +his eyes. + +"Tony, what does Felice wish to name your son?" Terry asked suddenly. + +Receiving no answer, he looked up at Tony and read in the agonized +contrition of Tony's dark face that she had not yet been consulted. +Tears glistened in the forgiving eyes Felice turned on Tony, and as he +flung himself down at the side of the bed and buried his face in her +pillow, Terry tiptoed out of the room and softly closed the door. + +In a few minutes Tony flung the door open and strode into the room, +unashamed of the tears that shone on his rough cheeks. + +"You all a go to hell-a with your a-names! Felice, she name-a our boy +and to-morrow we go Padre Jenneeng. She a name heem"--he paused with +true Latin sense of the value of suspense--"She a name heem--Reechar' +Terree--Ricorro!" + +A moment of hesitation, of assimilation, and then a hubbub of +delighted acceptance and acclaim. Terry stayed but a few minutes, +realizing that much as they liked him, there would be more spontaneity +at the fiesta if there were none but their own people at the table. + +He went in and thanked Felice gravely for the honor she had conferred +upon him, wished for them all a merry Christmas, and passed out amid a +medley of thanks and benedictions. + +The snowfall had ceased. He crossed to the North Side and hastened up +Main Street, and though it lacked but an hour of midnight, he found +Judd's jewelry store still open. He went in and found young Judd about +to close up. + +Judd, hollow eyed with the fatigue of the long day, studied his old +friend's beaming face: "Hello, Sir Galahad!" he said. + +Terry eyed him scornfully: "Hello, Rut!" He drew himself up proudly. +"Behold in me a new dignity--I am now a god-father!" + +Having in mind the parents' love for the elaborate, he gayly selected +an ornate silver cup for the infant. + +"I'll engrave it for you after the holidays," Judd offered. + +"Good old boy, Judd! The initials will be R--T--R." + +He buttoned his coat and went to the door: Judd was musing over the +monogram: "Richard--Terry--what's the 'R' stand for, Dick?" + +Terry grinned as he called back through the open door. + +"Why,--Romance, of course!" + + * * * * * + +He tramped far out the north road through the new fallen snow, his +whole being glowing. The stars sparkled through the clear cold air in +myriad chorus of the message of hope that one in the East had heralded +to a sadder world on another Christmas eve. The snow-flung star beams +illuminated the peaceful countryside: there was no moon, no light +save the great glow of the heavens, no shadows under gaunt oaks or +huddled evergreens. + +He was in harmony with the night. He followed the sleigh-rutted +highway for several miles, then swung back to town along a +woodcutter's trail that edged the lakeshore, winding through the new +growths of pine and balsam whose night-black branches were outlined by +the white fall. + +He loved the open: there was no loneliness here.... Magic-wrought, +Deane's phantom figure kept apace, matched step with step along the +shore trail through the hushed woods, across the white sheen of open +spaces. Ever, when summoned thus, she came to share the hours and the +places that he loved best. + +Love surged hot through his veins: love of friends, of living, of +youth, love of a woman ... probably his gift lay at her bedside now, +as she slept.... + +Unconsciously he slowed his pace and lifted his fine, pale face +upward: his low, clear baritone flooded the broken woods, carried far +out across the silent frozen lake, unechoed; it was vibrant with the +very spirit of yuletide--love of man and woman. + + Love, to share again those winged scented days, + Those starry skies: + To see once more your joyous face, + Your tender eyes: + Just to know that years so fair might come again, + Awhile: + Oh! To thrill again to your dear voice-- + Your smile! + +It was long past midnight when he reached town, his mood chilling +indefinably at sight of its dark houses. + +"You're a queer old town," he muttered. "You go to bed on this night +of nights--yes, and you batten your windows tight against this +glorious air--and all of the other glorious things." + +Passing the suspicious village constable, he penetrated even his +callous heart with the most gladsome Christmas greeting he had heard +in many a year. + +Home, he stirred the dying logs into flame and sank into a deep +cushioned chair drawn up before the glowing embers. The long day had +taken no toll of his lithe frame: sleepless, he sat long in pleasant +retrospection of the day, which had brought him opportunities to +contribute to the sum of peace on earth and to give pleasure to those +whom he loved. + +His gift to Deane had approached even his exacting criterion of what +was fit for her. He envied the skin its rapturous reception, the +sparkle of bright eyes its beauty would invoke. It was characteristic +that his vision did not carry him to the daily contact of pink toes he +had assigned as its function. And it was characteristic of him, too, +that he did not think of the gifts which had come for him. + +He would see the elders, he mused, and apologize for what must have +seemed to them a deliberate flaunting of their standards ... he had +been a little careless, lately ... he would remedy that ... it was a +good town--his failure to settle down had been a fault ... he would +find something to do, worth doing--and do it.... Deane's friendship +might ripen into something mellower, and then.... + +He reached into an inner pocket and withdrew a telegram, bending +nearer the fireplace to read it. + + Washington, D. C. + + Richard Terry, Crampville, Vermont. + + Wire will you accept commission second lieutenant Philippine + Constabulary period immediate decision essential period if + you accept wire date you will be able to sail from San + Francisco + + Wilson Insular Bureau + +The glow from the fire which ruddied his face revealed the struggle of +the minute before decision came. With an expression curiously mingled +of renunciation and relief he tossed the paper among the glowing +embers. He rose as the sheet took fire and in the brief flash of light +which marked the consumption of the telegram he saw a familiar-looking +package on the library table in the shadow cast by his big chair. He +carried it to the now fainter glow of the hearth and saw that it was +addressed to him in Deane's trim hand. He opened it eagerly, to see +what form her remembrance had taken. + +It was the fox-skin, returned. Vague, trouble-eyed, he read the +inclosed note. + + DEAR DICK:-- + + I am sending you back your present. Father insists, because + you secured it on Sunday. + + It hurts me, Dick, dreadfully, but you know how he feels + about such things. + + It is the loveliest present I ever received--and it makes me + want to cry, sometimes, when I think of your doing such + things for me and thinking about me as you do. I _AM_ + crying, now, Dick. + + Though I can not have it, your present will always be + mine--I can never forget that you were good enough to wish + me to have it. + + And will you accept my very best wishes that your Christmas + may be a very merry one. + + DEANE. + +He sank back into the chair again, sickened.... "That your Christmas +may be a very merry one." + + * * * * * + +Susan, first down in the morning, raised the curtains to the brilliant +Christmas morning, and turned to find him sitting in the chilled room +before the dead fire. Shocked by the haggard face, she hurried to him. + +"Dick, are you sick?" As she sank by the side of his chair her hand +brushed against the rich fur which lay across his knees, and she +understood. She placed a pitying arm about his shoulders. + +"I feared it, Dick--I feared it! You know how he is--her father. I'll +never speak to him again as long as--" She burst into tears. + +Gently he withdrew her arm and took her hand in his. + +"It's all right, Sue, it's--all--right." + +Through her tears she read the pain that lurked in his eyes, the agony +that betrayed the patient smile. She sobbed convulsively, heartsick in +her helplessness to ease this young brother to whom she had been half +mother. + +"That's what you always say--about everything: 'it will be all +right.' When you were a boy it was always the same--'it's all right.'" + +He comforted her with quiet words till the storm abated. Then, "I'm +going to miss you, Sue-sister," he said. + +She stood up, comprehension dawning in her wide eyes. + +"You're going away!" + +He nodded gravely. + +Slowly, fearfully, she asked, "When?" + +"To-night." + +"Way off to--those--Philippines?" + +He nodded, then unable to bear longer the hurt in her tremulous face, +he sought refuge in the ridiculous; he struck an attitude. + +"I'm going in quest of adventure--riches--romance! I'm going to sail +the Spanish Main--seek golden doubloons--maids in distress--the +Fountain of Youth! I'm going to cross strange waters--travel +untraveled forest ... see unseen peoples ... know unknown hills...." + +An odd light flickered in his eyes, as if he half believed what he +spoke. Fanny appeared at the kitchen door and with her cheery call of +"Merry Christmas," the light faded from his face as he turned in quick +response. + +He turned to his sister in mock reproof: "Shure and it's ye that has +not yet wished me aven a dacent top o' the marnin', let alone the +gratin's of the sason! Shame on ye--ye heartless, thoughtless, +loveless--" + +He broke off, laughing at her bewilderment: she never could keep apace +with his quick moods. Noting a tear still glistening he took her +cheeks between his hands and kissed the wet eyes, then asked her to +get word to Deane that he would be over some time during the evening. + +Surprised and pleased that he should ask her to participate in his +affair with Deane, she hurried to the desk set in a deep bay window. + +Ellis, sleepy-eyed, came down with his hearty greetings of the day, +and was surprised to find Sue bent earnestly over her writing. + +"Say," he said, "can't you wait till after breakfast to thank +everybody for their presents? What's the rush? Say, Dick, did you hear +yet what Bruce gave to the lady of his heart? No? Well, he out-Bruced +Bruce this time! He gave her a patented, electric foot-warmer!" + +Terry smiled his appreciation of Ellis' chuckling loyalty and escaped +upstairs to his room. Ellis wandered aimlessly over to the Christmas +table and noted the number of unopened packages marked with Terry's +name, then called up from the foot of the stairs: + +"Come right down here, you ungrateful Non-christian, and see what +Santa Claus brought you! You got more than any of us and--" + +He desisted as he suddenly became aware of his wife's frantic signals, +and reading the grievous trouble in her twitching face, he went to +her. + + * * * * * + +Susan, entering Terry's room at dusk, found him standing at the window +staring out into the evening, watching the shadows paint out one by +one the landmarks he had known from boyhood. Two large leather bags, +packed but still open, stood at the side of the bed. The two frames +which had held the pictures of his father and mother lay upon the +table, empty, beside letters addressed to Father Jennings, Doctor +Mather, and Tony Ricorro. + +He did not hear her but continued at the window, his relaxed shoulders +giving an unwonted aspect of frailty to his body. She tiptoed out of +the room, crept back again to look through brimming eyes at the lonely +figure silhouetted against the darkening window, then stumbled into +her own room and closed the door. + + * * * * * + +Terry returned to Deane in the sitting room after bidding her father +and mother a courteously friendly farewell. Mr. Hunter, vaguely +disturbed, had followed his wife upstairs reluctantly; he was not +quite confident that his decision regarding the fox skin had been +justified, and would have been glad had Terry given him opportunity to +discuss it. In a moment his voice sounded down to them as he defended +himself against his irate spouse. + +"I don't care what you say, Marthy, he's got to settle down and--" + +Then their door closed. + +For a long time Deane and Terry stood voiceless, each leaden with a +dull misery. The shock of his announcement had paled her and she +stared hopelessly at him out of wide blue eyes, her full red lips +aquiver at the hurt she read in the gray eyes and the queer wistful +mouth. + +She broke the pulsing silence: "I never understand you, Dick,--quite. +Is it because of the fox skin?" + +He shook his head uncertainly, barely conscious of her words in a last +rapt gaze at her, vaguely aware that this was the picture of her that +he would carry in his mind through the years to come. Rounded, long of +lines, apart from him she looked as tall as he, though there was a two +inch discrepancy; the wide eyes and generous, curved mouth indicated +her infinite capacity for affection. The shadow of a dimple flickered +high on her left cheek: the quickened beat of heart pulsed in the +white column of her throat. + +"Is it because you hate the town, Dick?" she asked tremulously. + +Again he shook his head slowly: "No, Deane, it is not that. The town +is all right--it is not that." + +He paused, brooding, then went on: "Last night I did not +sleep--much--thinking about it. It's all my fault.... I do not fit. So +I am going away, going to try to find my own place, somehow." + +Tortured by his patient smile, she followed him out into the dim hall, +half blinded by her burning tears. She sobbed unrestrainedly as he +slipped into his overcoat. + +He came to her, his hand outstretched, his voice husky. + +"Good-by, Deane-girl," he said. + +Taking his hand she stepped close to him, misty-eyed, atremble. + +"Good-by, Di--Oh, Dick! Don't go! Don't go way over to those awful +Islands!" + +He steadied her with an arm about the shaking shoulders. She leaned +full against him and in the soft contact his pulses leaped. He fought +to resist the temptation to take advantage of her mood, knew that for +the moment she was his if he but pressed his claim. + +Suddenly she looked up at him, glorious in her grief and surrender. + +"Shall I--do you want me to--to--wait?" + +For a few moments it seemed that he had not heard the low voice. + +Then: "Don't wait, Deane-girl,--don't wait." + +Then the arm was gone from about her shoulder. + +"But I will, Dick, I will!" she sobbed, but as the words fell from her +lips she heard the door close and felt the gust of cold air that +chilled the hall. + + * * * * * + +She was still awake when the midnight accommodation whistled its +impending arrival from the north. She listened, tense, as the train +came to a stop in the town. A brief halt, then it sounded its +underway, the pistons accelerated their chugging beat and it passed +out of Crampville into the south. + +She stood, still-breathed, dry-eyed, till the last grinding rumble +died out of the frosty night, then as a full realization of her loss +came home, she dropped to the side of the bed and buried her face in +the coverlid. + +The floor where she knelt seemed cold and hard. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +MINDANAO + + +The old _Francesca_, directed by a nervous and none too competent +Tagalog captain, maneuvered in the six-mile tidal current which swept +west through the Straits making Zamboanga a nightmare to all the +native skippers who called at that port. Crab-like, she crawled +obliquely to within a few hundred feet of the low-lying town, then the +screw churned up a furious wake as the anxious Tagalog on the bridge +swung her back into the Straits to circle in a new attempt. Carried by +the tidal rush the old tub circled in a great ellipse. + +Alone at the rail on the dingy promenade Terry stood enjoying his +first glimpse of Mindanao. Seven months in Luzon had brought him +countless tales of this uncertain southland--tales of pirates, of +insolent, murderous datos defiant behind their cotta fortresses, of +kris and barong wielded by fanatic Moros gone amok; of pearls as large +as robins' eggs, of nuggets tossed as playthings by naked children of +the forests, of mysterious tribes who inhabited the fastnesses of +inaccessible hills. + +He wore the service uniform of the Constabulary, the field uniform of +khaki blouse and breeches, tan shoes and leggings, and stiff-brimmed +cavalry Stetson. The smart uniform set his erect figure off trimly +and added to the impression of alertness conveyed by his steady gray +eyes. + +In the two wide swings back into midstream that ensued before the +steamer approached near enough land to get ropes to the little brown +stevedores who waited on the dock, Terry had ample opportunity for +study of the tropic panorama. The sea was dotted with Moro vintas, +swiftest of all Malayan sailing craft; tide and wind borne, some +scurried at tremendous pace toward the fishing grounds of the Sulu +Sea, others tacked painfully into the Celebes. A Government launch, +its starred and striped flag brilliant against the green sea in the +morning light, left its jetty and headed south toward the dim +coastline of Basilan. A score of gulls, that had followed the ship +down from Sorsogon, fattening on the waste thrown overboard after each +meal, circled around the ship aimlessly, uttering unpleasant cries. +The young sun mounted swiftly in a cloudless sky, hot on the trail of +the cool morning breezes, white in its threat of blistering punishment +of all who dared its shafts. + +The hawser snubbed, the drum of the rusty winch rattled and banged on +worn bearings to a tune of escaping steam, laboriously warping the +smelly hull alongside the dock. Terry watched the sturdy little Moros +spring into agile life as the vessel slowly neared the pier, then he +turned to look over the town which was built flush with the edge of +the narrow beach, extending each way from the shore end of the pier. +The galvanized-iron roofs of the taller buildings--church, convent, +club, a few more pretentious dwellings,--were visible above the low +foliage and between the tall acacias and firetrees which jagged the +skyline. A heavily laden breeze identified unmistakably several long +buildings as copra warehouses. + +It seemed a busy town, as towns near the equator go. In the street +into which the pier opened a thin stream of pedestrians passed by in +brief review before the watcher: Moros, a few Filipinos, a Chino +staggering under a heavy balanced pinga, two white-clad Americans, +while several rickshaws, Moro drawn, jogged by with patrons concealed +under raised tops. Then a big foreign touring car turned the corner +and drew up in front of the government building to deposit a middle +aged American, immaculate in fresh pongee. + +Terry, observing him idly from where he stood at the rail, saw a +larger, uniformed American swing the corner with vigorous stride and +after saluting the older man accompany him respectfully to the +entrance to the big building, where they stood a moment in +conversation. Terry's interest quickened as he recognized the big +American as a member of his own service; he watched him approach the +ship through the crowd of half-nude sweating Moros who now swarmed the +dock. + +Terry, hastening down the ship's ladder, met the tall officer as he +reached the end of the pier. + +He was a loosely knit, raw-boned man of about thirty-five, of serious +but pleasant mien. As he stepped to meet Terry, Terry saw that he wore +the leaves of a Major. + +"Lieutenant Terry?" he asked, responding with friendly informality to +Terry's stiff salute. + +"Yes, sir." + +"I'm Bronner. Mighty glad to know you. We've been looking for you ever +since receiving a copy of the Headquarters Bulletin ordering you down +here. Have a good trip?" + +"Well, Major, the _Francesca_ is no Empress liner but we got along all +right. I am very glad to know you, Major. Your brother and I were +roommates at college--he used to tell me of your experiences with the +head hunters--" + +"Huh!" the Major interrupted. "Guess he stretched things some. Fine +boy. Wants to come over when he graduates this June, but his mother +says one son over here is enough. And she's right." + +Terry liked the big irregular features. In the steady eyes he saw +something that forced instant credence to the stories told of the +Major's resourceful bravery under difficult situations, a bravery +which had made the name of Bronner famous in a service made up of +intrepid men. + +"Welcome to Moroland," the Major continued. "I hope you like it down +here--I think you will. If I didn't I wouldn't have requested your +transfer. You are assigned to the most interesting of the Moro +provinces,--Davao. You go there to command a Macabebe company. Your +baggage still aboard?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Forget the 'sir'! Leave your stuff on board--the _Francesca_ sails at +daylight to-morrow, and you go on to Davao with her. Had breakfast? I +thought not. Pack a bag with what you will need for a day ashore--put +on a white uniform for to-night. My orderly will take you to my +quarters where you can get a shower and some breakfast. Join me at the +Service Club for lunch." + +Throughout the abrupt discourse Terry had endured the frank appraisal +of the shrewd black eyes. He experienced a pleasant reaction when the +Major again extended his broad hand. + +"Lieutenant, I said a minute ago that I was glad to know you. Let me +repeat it--I mean it. Adios, till lunch time." + +He pushed his way good-naturedly through the throng of Moros who were +handling the bales and boxes unloaded from the roach-ridden hull and +walked off the pier, disappearing into the government building. Terry +boarded the vessel, warmed by the friendliness of his new chief, and +by the time the orderly arrived had thrown a few things into his bag +and was ready to go ashore. + +He followed the soldier down the main street, a dusty thoroughfare +lined with the usual assortment of structures which adorn Philippine +provincial towns: adobe, tile-roofed business houses honeycombed with +little box-like shops in which the Chinese merchants displayed their +wares: square wooden houses set high on stone understructures: scores +of bamboo shacks stilted on crooked timbers, unkempt, wry, powdered +with the dust risen since the last rains. + +Though it was not yet nine o'clock, they sought the shaded side of the +street with the habit which becomes instinctive near the equator, and +welcomed the coolness of Bronner's low house. + +The cook and the houseboy looked after him with the unobtrusive +perfection of service found only in the East. A good breakfast cheered +a stomach outraged by the greasy mess perpetrated upon native boats in +the name of Spanish cookery, and a cool shower bath eliminated the +stench of stale copra which had clung to his nostrils if not to his +clothing. An hour before noon he left the house and strolled about the +scorching town, regardless of where he went so long as he found shaded +walks on which to tread. + + * * * * * + +Most Philippine towns are coast towns, and most coast towns are flat +and uninteresting unless you are interested in their peoples--and you +are not interested in them unless they are of a different tribe than +you have known previously. + +Take a couple of dusty--or muddy--streets, unroll them along some +freshwater stream just above a line of palmed beach: place an immense, +deserted-looking softstone church in an unkept square flanked with a +few straggled acacias and a big convent in which a native priest lives +in weary and squalid detachment from a world he knows nothing about: +line the two streets with an assortment of rusty bamboo and +mixed-material houses which impress one as never having been built but +as always having stood there: sprinkle a few naked, pot-bellied, brown +children staring at each other in pathetic, Malay ignorance of the +manner and spirit of play: set a few brown manikins in the open +windows--women who let life fly by in dull wonder of what it is all +about: add a few carabaos lying in neck-deep content in mudwallows, +and a score of emaciated curs which snarl at each other in habitual, +gnawing hunger and which greet their masters with terrified whines: +spread over it all a pall of still moist heat and a sky arched by a +molten sun. Contrive all this, then imbue every object--human and +creature, animate and inanimate,--with an air of hopelessness, of the +futility of effort, and you will have a typical Malay town as the +Americans found them. + +But not so where the American has set his impious foot--impious of the +dogma that you can not change the East, nor hurry it. He enjoyed the +finesse of the phrase, quoted it, then jumped in to hustle the East. +The old timers,--Spaniards and Britishers for the greater +part--shrugged at each other over their heavy tiffins and nine o'clock +dinners; these crazy Americans would soon learn! But the crazy, +enthusiastic Americans, engineers, health officers, executives, school +teachers, Constabulary, labored on in the glory of service: eradicated +cholera, built roads and bridges, brought six hundred thousand +children into school that two score tribes might find a common tongue, +fought the devastating cattle plagues, wiped out brigandage and +piracy, brought order and first semblance of prosperity to eight +millions of people. + +Young men did it all. The old-timers suddenly found that they were +living in new times, in clean, healthful towns: found that business +was increasing by leaps and bounds as the natives fell in behind the +young Americans with a quicker stride than Orientals had ever known. +And they are the reasons--those few thousands of smooth-faced +Americans who laughingly threw themselves at the wall of immemorial +sloth and apathy--why Kipling's phrase is seldom quoted east of India, +and now not often there. And they are the reasons, those carefully +chosen, confident young men of whom too many are buried over there, +that we have so much of which to be proud in what has been done in our +name for a backward, unfortunate people. + +But we, you and I, do not know very much about it all: it is so far +away and we are so busy with our affairs, our politics, our-- + +... You know ... we are just too busy to bother about those Tagalogs +and headhunters who live over there where Dewey licked Cervera, and +Aguinaldo was king of the Igorotes or something, and Pershing rose +from a captain to a general: why, I heard one of those Filipinos make +a speech about independence and he was so smart and bright--he had +been sent to our congress or something and was handsome and polished +and.... + +Yes, he doubtless was. That is why he was sent: but he bore about the +same mental relation to the race he is supposed to represent as a +Supreme Court Justice bears to a Georgia cracker! + + * * * * * + +Terry had thoroughly assimilated the atmosphere of the Luzon provinces +in his seven months in the Islands, so he found a real pleasure in +studying a Moro town which had been under the energizing influence of +the Army for nearly two decades. He wandered slowly through the native +quarter, cutting down clean cross streets lined with neat nipa huts +inclosed behind latticed bamboo fences, enjoying the novelty of a +community different from any he had known. Every detail of the well +kept streets testified to the strictness of the standards set by the +white men who governed the town. The few Moros whom he encountered on +the noon-deserted streets passed him silently and with averted eyes, +wary, secretive, entirely alien. One looked him square in the eye, +leaving him uncomfortable with the antipathy unveiled, the cold, +everlasting contempt of the Mohammedan for the unbeliever whom he does +not know. + +He walked with lids half-closed against the white glare and the heat +waves which danced above the tortured roads and roofs: by the hour set +for his luncheon engagement he had covered the town thoroughly, +including the beautiful post which had been turned over to Scouts when +the Army at last finished its tedious Moro project. + +He found the Major waiting him at the Club, a large, single-story +building set in a grove of tall palms at the edge of the beach and +cooled by the breezes from the Straits. He followed him out on the +wide veranda built over the water's edge, passing through a friendly, +incurious group of young Americans who sat at little round tables in +groups of three and four. Major Bronner responded to a dozen greetings +as they crossed to a table set for two at the edge of the veranda. In +a moment the deft tableboy had their service under way. + +"Well," began the Major, "you will have a busy time of it during the +rest of your stay--I wish it were to be longer. This afternoon I want +you to come to the office with me--there are lots of things to talk +over about your work down there. The Governor will see you about five +o'clock. How do you like Zamboanga?" + +"It's clean, and interesting, Major." + +"'Clean and interesting!' That is a boost! Though we can't take much +credit for the 'interesting'--the Moros furnish that!" + +The white-smocked servants moved noiselessly about the cool veranda, +serving the score of Americans with that perfect impersonal care found +nowhere except among Oriental servitors: the subdued clatter of silver +against dish and the tinkle of iced drinks was often drowned in +outbursts of merriment from one or other of the little tables. Most of +the Americans were mere youths, though two were evidently in their +forties. Bronner noted Terry's study of a group of three who sat +nearby, heavily tanned men evidently not quite at home in the club. + +"Davao planters," he explained. "Hemp planters: you will know them. +Three good men: they're going down on your boat." + +Lunch finished, coffee and cigars furnished excuse for the white-clad +crowd to linger on the darkened porch: scraps of shop talk reached +Terry's ears, a jargon of strangely twisted English and Spanish words. +Bridges, appropriations, rinderpest, lack of labor, artesian wells, +cholera--such was their table talk, as such was their life. + +The breeze freshened, gently stirring the potted plants which flanked +each row of tables; the hot stillness of the noon gave way to the +sibilant murmur of the cocoanut palms whose bases were lapped by the +quickening ripples. The breaking of the withering calm was the signal +for departure to office and field. The veranda cleared rapidly. +Bronner, watching the three planters, interrupted their departure. + +"Lindsey--just a minute." + +He took Terry to their table and introduced him. + +"Lieutenant Terry, gentlemen: Mr. Lindsey, Mr. Cochran, Mr. Casey. +Lieutenant Terry goes to Davao to-morrow as Senior Inspector. You will +be able to help him, till he learns his way down there--and later he +may be able to help you." + +Terry shook hands with the three in turn. All were out-doors men, +bronzed, diffident with the social shyness of men who live their lives +alone or among none but alien people. Lindsey and Cochran were +square-set, serious young men: Casey, older, but of eager, +enthusiastic mien. + +The Major discussed them as he and Terry left the club. + +"They're three of the best planters in the Gulf. You'll have no +trouble with them. But you may with some others, those who have a +fancied grievance against the government just now. I had better start +at the beginning. + +"You know the best hemp in the world grows down there--soil, climate, +rainfall all combine wonderfully to make it the one ideal spot for +hemp production. In another twenty years it will probably rate as the +richest single agricultural area on the globe--that's why those little +fellows over there"--he indicated a pair of Japanese passing on the +opposite side of the street--"are piling into Davao so fast these +days. + +"The world needs hemp--and areas where it can be cultivated are rare. +Three years ago a little stampede occurred into Davao; the pioneers +are a mixed lot--about sixty Americans, a few Britishers, a scattering +of Moros and Filipinos and nearly two hundred Japs. The Japs are +quiet--you will seldom see them: they stay on their places and 'saw +wood'; they're backed by some syndicate--probably their government. +But the others are lone handers, working on their own 'shoe-strings' +or financed by the contributions of optimistic shareholders in Manila. + +"They are good men, these planters. You will like them. They went into +the fastnesses of Mindanao, braved the wild tribes, cleared their +land, planted hemp, working largely with their own hands--and in a +climate where they say the white man shall labor only with his head. +You will hear all about their troubles and difficulties--you won't +hear much else down there but hemp--hemp and wild tribes! Hemp and +wildmen--that's Davao! + +"About their grievance. They cleared and planted rapidly and have +raised fabulous crops, but when it came time to strip the hemp for +market they found that the wildmen upon whom they had banked as +potential labor would not work. A few came and stayed, but most of +them quit after earning a few pesos. So the hemp rotted in the field. +Desperate, facing ruin, some of the planters went after labor too +strongly, frightened and browbeat the Bogobos into working. The scheme +worked, so a condition approximating peonage was developed upon +several of the plantations. + +"We ordered it stopped. Those planters are very sore, looking for +trouble. That's the story--and the condition you must face, and +overcome. You've got to hold down that class of planter, but at the +same time encourage the Bogobos to work for them. It means prosperity +for the planters, and money and comfort for the Bogobos--and it will +keep them out of the hills: we want the Bogobos near the coast, under +civilizing influences. They are newly won to us and apt to fade away +into the foothills on the least provocation." + + * * * * * + +Crossing the acacia-shaded lawns of the beautiful plaza he stopped in +front of the artistic concrete bandstand, jerking a big thumb at the +dedication inscribed upon the ivy-covered facade. + +"Pershing Plaza," he read aloud. "He was the last military Governor, +you remember. I knew him: a good man. No genius--just a good man, hard +worker: has two traits that will carry him a long way if he gets the +chance--common sense and industry. Wants to know everything about +everything, and never quits working. Surrounds himself with workers: +gives his men their jobs and doesn't bother them while they do +them--just wants results. + +"'Make good or make way!' Some slogan! Pershing, Wood, Scott, +Carpenter,--America has sent some of her best into Mindanao. I'm glad +to be here--aren't you?" + +At the sudden question Terry turned to him. + +"Yes," he said. "I hope to be--useful." + +They had reached the entrance to the government building: the Major +paused at the foot of the mahogany staircase to conclude earnestly: +"It is fashionable just now in Manila to decry this effort to +institute civil government among the Moros--but I know you are not of +the type to be influenced. Governor Mason is making good: you will +see that after you have been here a month. He is a wonder, +Terry,--probably the only man who could handle this situation with a +few Constabulary. Study, patience, and square-dealing, backed by +occasional use of troops, prepared the Moros for this experiment, and +Governor Mason is carrying it forward almost alone--opposing the +backward tendencies of Sululand with little else save personality, +inspiration and a wonderful knowledge of Malay character. + +"You're going to like it down here," he wound up suddenly, confused by +his own unaccustomed oratory. + +Mounting the polished stairway, they passed down the tall concrete +corridors and into the Major's office. He drew up a chair for Terry +and seated himself behind a desk whose orderly array of accessories +bespoke his methodical bachelor habits. The walls were covered with +large-scale maps of Moroland showing location of various tribes, +scattered settlements and district boundaries, with great blank areas +eloquent of the unknown character of unexplored fastnesses. The +crosses which indicated the distribution of Constabulary forces +controlled from his office dotted every sizable island: pins bearing +the names of government agents showed into what remote regions our +trail-breakers had penetrated. One purple-flagged pin showed a +veterinarian warring against a cattle plague in Jolo: a blue flag +thrust into one of the blank spaces of Mindanao indicated the +whereabouts of a fearless ethnologist from the Field Museum: a red +sticker bore the name of an engineer who had been out of touch for six +weeks, running the line of a new trail across the great bulk of +Mindanao. The map was symbolic of the Constabulary, whose duty it is +to know all, to protect all. + +Leaving Terry to his study of the maps the Major spent an unapologetic +fifteen minutes clearing the mass of papers that had accumulated +during the lunch hour, then turned to him. For an hour he outlined the +salient problems which would confront the young officer in his new +assignment. He was all business, curt, concise, definite. He touched +upon the ordinary service activities of drill, patrol, secret service, +supply and report, then took up those phases which required delicate +and original handling. + +"Now, Lieutenant, we did not pull you down here to handle an ordinary +job--you know it means something these days to get a Mindanao +assignment." + +Terry did know it. Only men who had demonstrated unusual ability in +their line had been sent to Moroland under Governor Mason. As the +months went by the northern provinces were being stripped of their +crack men for assignment to the southern experiment, so that detail +there had become a mark of distinction. He had been as surprised as +pleased at his summons from Sorsogon, a poor, colorless province +where he had spent seven months in uneventful, and as he thought, +inconspicuous service. + +The Major detected something of what was passing in his mind: "You +were selected because of your understanding of native character, your +sympathy with them: that, and your faculty for learning dialects. By +the way, what is your method of studying these languages--your record +of three dialects in half a year is remarkable." + +"There was little else to do--and I like to study them." + +The Major noted the slight flush of embarrassment. He reached into a +drawer and pulled out a card, scanning it carefully before continuing: + +"Your qualification card indicates that you are an unusual pistol +shot: it reads 'Pistol rating--two-handed expert, extraordinary in +accuracy and rapidity.'" + +Disregarding Terry's increased embarrassment he pushed the question: +"How did you acquire such skill?" + +"Well, as I had to carry a sidearm, I thought to make it useful--it is +not much of an ornament. After I became really interested it cost me +about fifty dollars a month for ammunition." + +"Well, things happen down here! Some day you may be glad you spent the +money--your skill may come in handy!" + +"On--men?" It was the one aspect of the service from which Terry +shrank. + +"Well, I hope not. It seldom comes to that. But a number of hard +characters have been concentrating recently in the Davao Gulf, a batch +of discharged convicts who served long terms for brigandage and +murder. We have been watching them, but nothing significant transpired +till last month." + +The muscles of his heavy jaw tightened as he went on: "You have heard +of Malabanan, haven't you?" + +"The ladrone leader?" + +"Yes, he. He was released from Bilibid prison last summer and came +through here last month. One of our operatives uncovered him on the +boat--traveling as an ordinary steerage passenger. He went to Davao, +and I fear it means trouble. I think he gathered that tough crew +together to operate in Davao, thinking to test us out now that the +Army is gone." + +His face was grim as he snapped: "Terry, watch him! And if he makes a +single move--smash him! Make no false starts, do not arrest him unless +you are sure that your evidence will convict in the courts. Give him +plenty of rope--but if he breaks loose ... smash him hard! +Understand?" + +Terry nodded quietly, but something in his competent face contented +his chief. He repeated his warning against premature action: + +"Be sure you can get him before you move--he is slippery and has +friends in high native circles. We do not want to be turned down in +the courts at this stage of the game, and it may be he intends to play +the game square--plant hemp, for instance. But if he wants a +showdown--smash him good and plenty!" + +He briefly reviewed the substance of his instructions: "You can see +that your work is going to call for a good deal of tact and patience: +patience with the angry planters, with the wild people. Everybody is +scared and jumpy down there just now, and we want to restore their +confidence." + +Terry had listened attentively throughout the interview, speaking only +to answer questions. He broke the silence which followed: + +"Major, I have heard a great deal about the Hill People of Davao: will +I be near them?" + +The Major eyed him queerly for a moment before answering: "About +thirty miles as the bird flies," he said, "but about a million to all +intents and purposes! No living man has been among them--those who +have tried have left their bones rotting in the dark forest. They kill +all who attempt to reach them, expeditions in force find nothing as +the Hillmen simply fade away before their approach. + +"I don't want you to attempt to go among them--in fact I expressly +forbid it, as it means certain death. But some day we hope to open the +Hills up, to win among them: it is one of the Governor's cherished +ambitions. So learn what you can about them from the old Bogobos who +live in the foothills, and report any interesting traditions you may +hear. Pieced together, the tales may make a helpful contribution--may +help solve the riddle of how to get to them peaceably. Not that you or +I are likely to live long enough to see it done--they are too +confounded wild, too inaccessible behind their jungled hills." + +He shrugged his broad shoulders in eloquent dismissal of a vain hope, +and rose: "I want you to meet the Governor. I'll see if we can get to +him yet." + +He strode out of the office, returning immediately to inform Terry +that the Governor was closeted with the two Moro datos whom he had +fetched to the capitol by launch. + +"They haven't promised to be good boys yet," he chuckled, "but they +will before he finishes with them! His Secretary says that he expects +you and me to go down to San Ramon with him to-night at seven sharp, +to dine with Wade, the prison superintendent. You're in luck, +Lieutenant. It will be an evening you won't soon forget." + +So it proved to be. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE FANATIC + + +Terry, refreshed by a shower and change to formal white uniform, was +listening to the Major's grave summing up of the Moro problem when the +arrival of the governor's car took them both down to join him. As +Governor Mason alighted to meet him Terry felt the magnetism of the +man who had been selected to attempt the difficult Moro venture. +Governor Mason had grown up in the island service, had been identified +with the inner government circle since the days of the First +Commission, and had been retained and promoted by each succeeding +administration. Far-sighted, patient, wary, suave, he was the most +consummate master of Island policy developed under the American +regime. A press bitterly hostile to the idea of giving the Moros civil +government had attested to his proven capacity by moderating its +criticism following the announcement that he would head the new +government. + +Terry was welcomed with a graceful simplicity that made him feel at +home. Immediately he fell under the spell of this man whose spirit +enthused the small band of whites who were redeeming a people from +their prehistoric lethargy. He was fit to lead; the sweep of line from +temple through jaw bespoke an uncompromising force of character, but +was gentled by the deep cleft of chin: something in the poise of head +gave him the manner best described as aristocratic but it was toned +down by the mischievous gleam which flickered, often without obvious +reason, in the thoughtful eyes. + +The big car bore them swiftly through the cooling evening over smooth +coral roads which were laid down like ribbons on the green tableland +over which they sped: they shot under groves of tall cocoanut trees, +past clumps of feathery bamboo which flanked the highway. Dusk was +near when they entered the reservation and drew up in front of a +red-roofed bungalow set on a great lawn facing the prison inclosure. + +Superintendent Wade rose from the wide veranda and came down to meet +them, a tall, smooth-faced man of young middle-age, evidently on most +intimate terms with the Governor and the Major. While expressing his +pleasure in being privileged to entertain Terry, he bent upon him the +searching look of appraisal which is instinctive in the Orient, where +the masses are controlled by the white man's prestige, a prestige +which may suffer through attitude or actions of each newcomer. + +Terry halted a moment at the curb, rapt in appreciation of the spot. +Acres of lawn, splashed with flaming red and yellow canna beds, swept +from roadway to edge of sea: wide shell roads, smooth as planks, wound +in great curves into the dark groves of cocoanut palms which +surrounded the inclosure on three sides and extended back a thousand +acres in symmetrical rows of towering trunks which created endless +shaded glades: turning slowly, he saw the immaculately policed prison +inclosure showing through the steel grillwork which an intelligent +mind had substituted for grim and stuffy prison walls. It seemed less +prison than sanctuary. + +The development of the prison farm, the development of its Moro +inmates, was Wade's life. "Lieutenant, I am glad you like it," he said +simply. "It is home to me." + +The Governor had strolled out on the lawn for a lingering look around +him. Returning to the veranda he eyed Wade and Bronner quizzically. + +"Each of you has too fine an establishment for the barren needs of +bachelors. I wish you had more confidence in the blissful state of +matrimony!" + +Wade shook his head decisively. The Major snorted. + +"Huh! No petticoats for mine!" + +A stolid Moro servant padded up with a tray bearing four cocktails: in +a moment carried them kitchen-ward, rejected. + +The Governor laughed: "Not one in four! An unusual showing, Wade." He +turned to Terry: "You never drink?" + +"I--I don't care for it, Governor." + +A pause, and he added, flushing slightly: "That was not quite honest, +sir. I have never tried it." + +As they moved to the table the Governor exchanged a glance of +delighted approval with the Major over the nice amend. + +The steady breeze off the Straits that blew across the veranda where +they sat at dinner roused the sea into a little confusion of beach +sounds. They ate leisurely, talking of the strange things of Sululand, +talked as men do who find surpassing interest in the little and the +big things of their work; and Terry listened as they deliberately drew +him within their circle. + +It was a dinner deserving of the time given up to it. Following a +vegetable soup the Moro bore in a great lapu-lapu, fresh from the +Straits: if you have never tasted the flaky substance of a +lapu-lapu,--don't! For once you do, you will be forever impatient of +the quality of all other fish. Roast duck followed, with sweet corn, +camotes, tart roselle sauce, a papaya salad, an ice, and pili nuts; +all perfectly prepared, and flawlessly served by the expressionless +Moro boy who moved noiselessly about the snowy table. + +"I want to brag a little, Governor," Wade said as he and the Major +lighted cigars over a second cup of black coffee. "Everything we ate +to-night--with the exception of such things as salt and pepper and +cream,--was the product of this farm. You will be able to report at +the end of the year that we are eighty per cent self-supporting." + +Pressed by the Governor, Wade explained to Terry his system of +handling the six hundred Moro inmates. He stopped midway in a graphic +account of three prisoners whom he had sent out with instructions to +fetch in a runaway convict dead or alive. + +"I didn't ask you down here to talk you to death!" he apologized. + +"But what happened?" insisted the Major. "Did the three skip too?" + +Wade glared at him. "Skip? My trusties? I guess not! They came in last +night after dark, after being gone in the interior for three weeks, +carrying a gunnysack. I was sitting out here, so they came right up +and without a word emptied the sack on the veranda floor. They had +stayed out till they got him--his head rolled out of the sack and +landed right under where you're sitting, Major. Then the three walked +over to the prison gate and reported in." + +A moment later the Major moved his chair. + +The Governor had been quietly studying Terry. "How did the Philippines +first impress you?" he asked. "About as you anticipated?" + +Terry hesitated, then responded to the authority of the kindly eyes: +"No, sir. I had read enough typical stories of the tropics to absorb +an atmosphere, but I did not find it. You know what I mean, sir: all +that stuff about _dulce far niente_, manana, gin-soaked +beach-combers,--that sort of thing. But I don't find it, sir. I find a +spirit of hustle, of getting things done despite obstacles, a spirit +which the natives seem to be absorbing,--though rather slowly." + +The Governor was frankly interested: "You doubtless have formed some +opinion regarding the Filipinos--their fitness for independence?" + +Terry felt the three pairs of eyes drilling him as he answered: "It +seems to me, sir, that--disregarding such baffling obstacles to +independence as their absolute defenselessness as a nation, the +profound ignorance of the masses, lack of a common tongue, and all +that,--I think that in view of the fact that under our guidance they +have advanced further than under four hundred years of Spanish rule, +it would be kinder if we waited decision until we see what a second or +third generation of English-speaking natives are like." + +He reflected a moment, serious, then added: "In short, sir, I think +that it would be a great injustice to them to mistake our own driving +force for their capacity." + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" exclaimed the delighted Major, who had fidgeted +while his protege was undergoing the Governor's test, "Don't mistake +our driving force for--I'd like to hear the native demagogues argue on +that thesis!" + +The Governor surveyed Terry with added interest, but was +non-committal. + +They fell silent, listening to the dark sea, in its gentlest mood, +caressing the beach: the wind flowed past them steadily, like a soft +current, stirring the long fronds into purring contact. A sharp +challenge from an alert native sentry rang clear, followed by the +crunching sound of a heavy iron gate opening and closing with grating +finality. The hourly call was sounded by a guard, who, unseen by them, +paced the main entrance to the inclosure: "All's Well." It sounded six +times from invisible lips. Terry pondered its ironic message to those +who heard it from within those steel and concrete dormitories: "All's +Well," sounding to those who had crime on their souls, and had left, +somewhere, mothers, wives, children ... sweethearts.... It oppressed +him heavily. + +Then a roar of laughter rose from within the prison, the free and +joyous expression of mirth from hundreds of throats, from men who +found life good. Terry looked up to see Wade observing him closely, +smiling. + +"They're having 'movies' to-night," he explained. "They're crazy about +Charlie Chaplin." + +Then Terry understood better the spirit of the institution, and of its +inmates. This was no dungeon, it was a school where men were being +taught how to live at peace with their kind, how to work,--and how to +laugh. + +Vaguely conscious of being the object of intent scrutiny by some one +stationed behind his chair, Terry turned, restlessly, to face the Moro +servant, who stood just within the circle of light cast by the lamp, +his smoldering eyes fixed upon him. Unabashed, inscrutable, he studied +the white youth unblinkingly: then, as if decision had ripened, he +entered the full glare of the lamp and faced Wade, his master. + +Astounded at the extraordinary intrusion, Wade questioned him curtly +in his dialect. The Moro responded at length, in a listless monotone +that contrasted strangely with the determined gleam of his black eyes. +Surprise flooded Wade's face, heightened to astonishment as the Moro +continued; and as he concluded his story with an expressive gesture +toward Terry, Wade struck his knee. + +"Well, I'll be everlastingly consumed!" he prophesied. He searched +Terry's thin face intently, then turned to the Governor. + +"This boy, Matak," he pointed to the passive Moro, "adopted me over a +year ago: just dropped in and said he was going to work for me. I +didn't need him--you know I draw on the trusties for servants--but he +would not accept refusal: he just stayed on. He is a fine servant, but +a queer fish--I let him stay for both reasons! I've tried to persuade +him to go to different friends who needed servants, but he looked them +over and then refused. I don't know where he came from, don't know +anything about his history: I only know that he is a very faithful +boy, with some grievance against life that leaves him morose and +silent. + +"Now he coolly announces," he paused to again study Terry's +countenance queerly, "now he says he is going with Lieutenant Terry!" + +The small but powerfully built Moro calmly returned the stare of the +four white men, his face passionless, his inert hands and thick bare +feet curiously expressive of a primitiveness beyond conception. +Evidently he had decided upon a course of action from which nothing +would sway him, and he waited until the white men should adjust +themselves to the fact. The Governor's face expressed his sympathy +with the Moro as he turned to Wade and asked permission to address his +servant. + +"Matak, why do you wish to go with Lieutenant Terry?" + +The Moro shifted his brooding eyes to Terry, then back to the Governor +before he answered. + +"Because I like him, sir." + +"Why do you like him?" + +"Because he understands, sir." + +"Understands what, Matak?" + +"He understands us, sir,--the unfortunate. Because he is lonely too, +sir." + +The Governor had been trying all evening to solve the strange appeal +of Terry's countenance: the primitive Moro had understood. Gazing at +the white youth, the Governor saw that Matak was right. The tone in +which he addressed Terry was gentle, fatherly. + +"Lieutenant, do you need a boy?" + +The Major's quick sympathy had been enlisted: "Lieutenant, you will +run your own mess down there," he interposed. + +Meeting the black eyes turned upon him in confident expectation, Terry +found their dull appeal irresistible. + +"He may come with me," he said. "I will look after him." + +Matak stood motionless a moment, then stepped to Wade and slipping to +one knee pressed Wade's hand against his lips in token of gratitude +and farewell. Then he rose and went silently into the house. + +The Governor, the Major and Wade were busy men with large +responsibilities: Terry found ample material for reverie in +contemplation of what was opening up before him. The incident served +to stifle further conversation. The four settled comfortably into the +long rattan chairs drawn up near the railing, each content in the mere +association with friends and occupied with his own problems. + +The quiet intimacy of the group was jarred by the sudden jangle of a +telephone. Wade jumped up with a muttered excuse but before he had +crossed to the open door it rang again, insistent. They heard his +murmured "hello," then an incredulous "What!" in higher pitch. He +appeared at the door, pale, excited. + +"Governor Mason," he exclaimed, "Captain Hornbecker reports that there +is a _juramentado_ loose between here and Zamboanga!" + +At the startling intelligence the Governor's feet rapped to the floor: +the Major jumped to his feet, astounded. + +"Why," he protested, "who ever heard of a Moro running amuck at this +time of night!" + +"Hornbecker insists that it is true, nevertheless. He has sent a +detachment out after him but was worried because the Governor and you +might have started before he got word for you to wait." + +The Governor shook his head decidedly: "We will not wait. Please call +my car." + +The Major's protest against the Executive's endangering himself died +in his throat at a quiet look from the Governor. They hurried to the +car, Wade delaying them a few seconds while he secured three heavy +pistols, handing one to each of the two officers. They found Matak +waiting in the seat beside the driver. + +A sharp order from the Governor and the chauffeur shot them out of the +reservation and into the provincial road. The big Renault roared +through the night, the kilometer posts flitting by like specters, the +headlights tunneling the cocoanut groves through which the white +highway spun. + +The four Americans crouched low in the tonneau to escape the blinding +rush of air that eddied over the windshield. They shot over a bridge, +tore through a dark village, rounded a corner at top speed and took +the grassed shoulder of the road as the little chauffeur twisted the +wheel to avoid a bewildered carabao which blocked the middle of the +highway. A sickening skid, and they were back in the road. At the end +of a roaring flight down a long straightaway they rounded a sharp +curve into a short stretch terminating in a nipa village which seemed +to leap toward the rushing car. As the powerful lights swung upon the +widened road which formed the village street the alert driver saw that +which brought foot and hand to the brakes in a frantic effort that +brought the car to a grinding, sliding stop and tumbled the Americans +to the floor of the tonneau. + +Crouched in the middle of the road a Moro, gone amuck, darted fanatic +glances in search of the Christians he had vowed to die killing, his +eyes bloodshot with the self-inflicted torture of the juramentado +rite. He balanced a great two-handed kris that gleamed like a row of +stars where the headlight struck its polished corrugations. + +A Filipino, unaware of the terrific figure behind him, had sauntered +from the shadows into the path of light, curious, half-blinded by the +glare he faced. As he reached the middle of the road the most +terrifying of all cries issued from one of the dark windows. + +"_Juramentado!! Juramentado!!!_" + +At the cry his face turned sickly green in the glare. He wheeled, +uncertain, then ran blindly toward the frenzied Moro who was creeping +toward him. + +It happened with the swiftness of nightmare. By the time the +Americans had picked themselves up from the bottom of the car the +Filipino's frantic burst had brought him within twenty feet of the +black-clad fanatic. His flying feet lagged to a halt, he stood stock +still in sheer horror till the Moro bounded toward him, then turned +back toward the car--too late! + +The four white men leaped out just as the Filipino turned back toward +them with fear-leaden feet, and in the moment of discovery of the +Mohammedan who leaped in his shadow, they saw the glistening blade +rise above the Filipino's head and fall in a terrific sweep that +seemed to end at the point where neck and shoulder join. Before their +eyes the body opened like a book. + +It seemed inconceivable, but the crazed face of the Moro showed +through the cleft which widened as the victim fell. + +"God!" sobbed the Governor. + +Sighting the group of Americans the blood-crazed Mohammedan bounded +toward them triumphantly, swinging a kris which no longer gleamed. +Bronner had reached the road first and stood in front. His heavy +pistol roared six times and at the last shot the leaping Moro spun +clear around and fell heavily. + +He staggered to his feet and with the same implacable hatred gleaming +in his eyes came on toward them, still grasping the awful weapon. +Then, as Matak stepped out to meet him, armed only with a hub wrench, +Terry's right hand extended in swift gesture as he shot once. The Moro +collapsed to the road, limply, like a wet stocking off a line. + +His race was run, but he had taken one unbeliever with him to justify +his claim to a choice seat in the Mohammedan heavens. There is a +certain impressive earnestness about the followers of Mohammed. + +The dismayed villagers poured out into the street, venting their +frenzied fear by kicking the dead fanatic. Captain Hornbecker, a +round-faced officer, arrived with his soldiers. As the chauffeur had +emerged from his hiding place in the brush, the Governor turned +matters over to the captain and the four drove on into Zamboanga. All +had been sickened by the horror of the swift tragedy. + +They stopped at Bronner's house to get Terry's bag, then drove him to +the wharf. The _Francesca_ was about to cast off, her dim-lit decks +loud with the confusion of misdirected effort. + +Terry sent Matak aboard, thanked the three warmly for their kindness +to him; after a moment of hesitation he added something that was +drowned in a sudden rumble of winch. Two waiting sailors threw off the +hawser in response to a shouted signal from the bridge. The three +Americans remained at the end of the pier till after Terry had mounted +to the deck and the boat swung out into the current. + +As they walked along the dark pier the Governor asked: "What was that +he was saying? I did not quite catch it." + +"I heard only part of it," answered Bronner. "It was something about +how queer religions may be--he was thinking of the juramentado." + +Wade spoke: "Did you notice how hard the affair got him? Of course it +was a pretty stiff sight." + +"It wasn't that," said the Major, slowly. "From something he said to +me to-day I know that he has had a horror of some day being compelled +to kill a man--and the day came. I'm very sorry I didn't stop that +Moro devil--yet I hit him three times." + +The Governor walked the short distance to his residence. Wade dropped +the Major at his bungalow, and sat oblivious to the Major's +outstretched hand, musing. + +"Major," he said finally, "Matak's selecting Terry for his +master--queer, isn't it?" + +"Huh!" growled the Major, "I would go with him myself--anywhere!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +NEW FRIENDS, AND AN ENEMY + + +The _Francesca_, no slower and no dirtier than most of the other +steamers which ply the inter-island trade routes, had waddled all +night and all day through the Celebes Sea. Afternoon found her +laboring over a becalmed mirror of sea, past rippled reefs, through +clusters of little coral islands from which straggle-plumed palms +raised wry fronds in anemic defiance of inhospitable, root resisting +soil. Mindanao lay to the west and south, vast, mysterious. + +Terry stood alone at the forward end of the small promenade deck +watching the third class passengers, who, though still manifesting the +uneasiness of the Malay landsman at sea, were comfortably sprawled +upon the dirty hatch covers enjoying the seven-mile breeze created by +the movement of the vessel through the still atmosphere. Upon the +cooler side of the upper deck the first class passengers had disposed +themselves under the once-white awning. Two natives, a Tagalog planter +named Ledesma and his big-eyed, full-bosomed daughter, had withdrawn +themselves from the whites and were seated in conscious dignity near +the aft rail. Four Americans were grouped up forward, stretched out in +full length steamer chairs in the complete physical comfort born of a +cooling evening after a blistering day. + +Lindsey reached out to pull up an extra chair, beckoned Terry to join +them and introduced him to the fourth member of the group, naming him +as Sears. + +He was a big man, heavy-set, a bit untidy of dress and beard: his face +was flushed, and he answered Terry's pleasant salutation with a +mattered growl. Lindsey moved in his chair, uneasily. + +"Lieutenant," he said, "we want to get acquainted with you. We shall +see much of each other in Davao." + +Before Terry could respond a harsh voice broke in: "Yes, none of us +are stuck on ourselves down here!" + +The words fell cold. Sensing the purpose to offend, Terry straightened +in his chair to face Sears. He met his surly stare squarely: their +eyes battled, but under the level gaze Sears' bloodshot eyes wavered +and lowered, the flush deepening angrily with his confusion. + +Lindsey hastily summoned the deckboy to take their orders and by the +time he returned with the drinks the constraint had abated. Sears, the +only one who had ordered whiskey, settled back in his chair in sullen +relief from a situation not quite to his liking. Lindsey raised his +glass to Terry. + +"To your arrival among us," he offered, pleasantly. + +"To you all, sir," Terry responded. + +"More hemp!" suggested Cochran. + +Little Casey attested to his passion: "To breeds and breeders and +breeding!" he grinned: it was his never-failing toast at the Davao +Club. + +They waited a moment for Sears, but he had gulped his drink. + +It was the enthusiastic Casey who first spoke: "Lieutenant, and when +do you think you can come down to my place? I want you to see my +Berkshire boar and my two American mares!" + +Cochran smiled at him, affectionately: everybody liked Casey for his +wild enthusiasms. His latest hobby was the importation of blooded +animals to cross with native stock. + +"Casey," said Cochran, "if you would pay half as much attention to +your plantation as you do to your mares and that old grunter, you'd +get somewhere!" + +Casey snorted: "Sure, and in about three months I'll have a colt to +show you--then you'll sing another tune! And wait till I get some +half-breed pigs--instead of the hollow-backed scrawny things we've got +now--then you'll admit that Casey was the boy!" + +Casey was more or less of a character in the Gulf. His words flew so +fast they overran each other in effort to keep abreast of his racing +ideas. Thoroughly respected for his sterling character, he was made +the target of much good-natured hilarity because of his constant +hobby-riding and the rushing speech that made him almost incoherent. +His mares and boar had cost him money that could better have gone into +plantation improvements. + +The conversation, drifting fitfully, touched upon a new stripping +machine which Lindsey had purchased in Manila: he was bringing it down +in the hold of the _Francesca_. + +"I watched them load it," he declared. "I took no chances in being shy +a necessary bolt or belt. I'll have it set up in a couple of weeks and +if it works as well in the field as it did in the agent's +warehouse--no more labor troubles for me--no more hemp rotting in the +ground for lack of strippers!" + +Cochran was mildly pessimistic. He had seen too many other heralded +inventions which worked well experimentally but failed in the hemp +fields. Of course Casey was hopeful--it was his nature. + +Sears broke his long silence: "Labor troubles, labor shortage! +Hell!--there's plenty of labor in the Gulf--if only the Government +wasn't always hornin' in on us!" + +Terry knew the remark was aimed at him but refrained from comment. +Sears mistook his silence. + +"But no meddlin' government is goin' to interfere with me! I'm goin' +to run my own place from now on--and get my labor where I please--and +how I please!" + +As this elicited no response from the patient officer he continued +despite Lindsey's distressed signals. Emboldened, he turned directly +to Terry. + +"I suppose," he snarled, "that you were sent down to be the little +fairy god-father to the Bogobos--to protect the poor heathen from the +awful planters who want to make them work. No?" + +Terry stirred. "Mr. Sears, I am instructed to protect the Bogobos from +any oppression--and to aid the planters in every legitimate way. I +hope to do both." + +Sears' passion seemed fed by the conciliatory tone. Terry studied the +convulsed face and through the thick veil of rage saw the lines of +worry that had aged him prematurely: the black hair was streaked with +gray and his hands were thickened and stained with toil. Moved by a +quick sympathy Terry spoke again: + +"Mr. Sears, this is no time to discuss the matter. In a week or so I +will come to see you and--" + +Sears interrupted in a voice hoarse with anger: "Terry, if any +government man comes--snoopin' round my place--I'll--I'll--he will +never snoop again!" + +In the tense silence that followed the challenge Lindsey bit clean +through his cigar. Terry's answer was so long in coming that the trio +of Americans who listened experienced something of the faint qualm +which sickens a man when he witnesses another's backing-down. Finally +he spoke, slowly, his measured words scarcely audible above the +muffled beat of the propeller. + +"Sears, I am coming to your place first. I will come within a week." + +Sears jumped to his feet, shaking with the hatred he had conceived for +the young officer. Terry rose easily, looking frail in comparison with +the burly figure opposing him, but he surveyed Sears steadily, +unafraid, and not unfriendly. + +Cochran coughed loudly, and again. Casey nervously undid a shoelace, +retieing it with meticulous care. Lindsey rose with studied +leisureliness and stood at the rail near Sears, ready. + +But the ship's bell rang out the dinner hour, a waiting Visayan +steward stepped out on the deck hammering a Chinese dinner gong, and +in the strident din the crisis passed. Lindsey lingered to speak with +Terry after the others had passed below. + +"I'm very sorry, Lieutenant. Sears is a rough fellow, but he is +half-crazed with worry. He's really not a bad _hombre_." + +Terry nodded: "I can see that he is worried about something." + +"It's his plantation. He has invested what little money he had in it, +has worked hard for three years, and now that he has his first big +crop he can't harvest it--the Bogobos won't work for him. He is pretty +rough with them, I guess--but if he doesn't harvest this crop he's +ruined. He's in debt--and pretty desperate." + +He paused, a deeper concern crept into his face: "Lieutenant," he said +earnestly, "can't you stay away from his place--a while--till he gets +his hemp cut and stripped? He is really desperate--and always packs a +gun." + +Terry smiled his gratitude. "Lindsey, I am much obliged to you. You +need not worry about it." + + * * * * * + +Neither Sears nor Lindsey were of the group which assembled on deck +after dinner to enjoy the brilliancy of the swift sunset. The ship had +swung through Sarangani Channel and was paralleling the west coast due +north toward Davao. The red glory of the dying sun tinted the waters +of the Gulf to the line of palm-fringed beach which edged the distant +shoreline. From the shore the land sloped gently to the west and +north, mile after mile of primeval jungle broken here and there where +brush and thorn and creeper had yielded to man's demand for more and +more hemp. Far inland the steady rise persisted, grew more abrupt and +more heavily timbered, terminating in the far interior in a dim and +mighty mountain whose dark-wooded slopes and misted crest dominated +the Gulf: the red orb of the sun had dropped behind this towering +summit. + +Cochran pointed up at the distant mountain: "Mount Apo." + +Terry nodded: "Where the Hill People live?" + +"Yes,--where they are supposed to live: no one really knows ... you +will hear all sorts of stories." + +The shadows which lurked upon Mount Apo descended over the lower +slopes, then enfolded the Gulf. The lights on the steamer shone +murkily. The three lay back watching the stars brighten overhead. For +a long time nothing was heard but the querulous mutterings of the old +boat as she waddled on her way. + +Terry broke the silence: "Where is Lindsey?" + +Cochran answered quickly to head off the more explicit Casey: "Oh, +he's busy--busy with Sears." + +Terry understood. Cochran sparred for an opening in the silence his +friendship for Sears made embarrassing. + +"Lieutenant, you are likely to have work for your soldiers pretty +soon. There's a rough outfit gathering down here in the Gulf--though +I imagine Bronner told you all about it." + +"He told me something of it, but I would like to hear more." + +"Well, I don't know much about it, excepting that a score or more of +tough characters have come down in the past two months. They settled +on a mangy plantation up the coast, north of Davao, but they aren't +working: just loafing around all day. They seem to be waiting for +something--or somebody. The natives are scared, and the whites don't +feel any too good about it either! You know we are scattered all over +the Gulf--everybody a mile or more away from his neighbors--and that +means a mile of jungle." + +Casey flared up: "We ought to run 'em out--they're no good, probably +carabao thieves or worse--" + +"How worse?" grinned Cochran. "Horse thieves--or pig thieves?" + +Casey did not mind being ragged by his friends. He persisted: +"Lieutenant, you ought to run 'em out as undesirables or under the +vagabond law! They're no good--they won't work--and they're the +toughest lookin' lot I ever did see! Sure and if I had my way I'd toss +the lot into Sears' crocodile hole--the dirty, low-lived, shiftless +lot of 'em!" + +Terry was interested: "Sears' crocodile hole?" he asked. + +Cochran laughingly explained: "It's more or less of a joke between +Sears and Lindsey: each has a hoodoo on his place that makes it harder +to get laborers. The Bogobos fear a great snake they swear haunts +Lindsey's woods, and none of them wants to go near a pool on Sears' +places just below the ford--they claim it is the home of a monstrous +crocodile, thirty feet long. No white man has ever seen either; it's a +big joke in a way--but a costly one for them as it makes the wild men +give their places a wide berth." + +"What have they done about it?" + +"Everything. Got up hunting parties--stalked the places for hours and +days, tried to convince the natives that it is all bosh. But they +insist it's all true, and stay away--and loss of man power means loss +of money they both need this year. Both of them think the stories are +just the usual Bogobo exaggerations." + +Terry thought Cochran not quite convinced: "What do you think?" + +"I? Oh, I don't know. It's hard to swallow the stories--man-eating +snakes and crocodiles sound all right on the lips of the old Spaniards +but where our flag flies things seem to sober down. Yet I've usually +found that back of all these Bogobo tales there is an element of +truth: and two years ago when I was clearing my place I shot an +eighteen-foot python. Stumbled on it sleeping--glad it was!" + +The evening monsoon had set in, rippling the surface of the sea and +humming its cooling refrain through the rigging. Casey yawned heavily +and went below to seek the planter's early sleep. Cochran remained +with Terry for a half-hour, enlightening him with a running talk of +the problems confronting the planters. He was well educated, +progressive, and backed by ample family means had developed the best +holding in the Gulf. He told Terry that on this trip he had succeeded +in persuading thirty timid Visayan families to settle upon his +plantation despite their native fear of all things Mindanaoan, and +that his profits for the year would return him sixty per cent of the +capital he had invested in his place. + +"You will soon understand conditions, Lieutenant," he declared as he +rose to go below. "Most of the planters need labor, and they need +capital." He threw his cigar butt over the rail, debating the ethics +of uttering what might be thought a criticism of his associates. "And +they need farming intelligence most--too many of them were army men or +government men before coming down here, yet they tackle a highly +specialized form of tropical agriculture with utter confidence! They +aren't farmers--they're just heroes!" + +He half-turned to go, hesitated: "Lieutenant, you're going to like it +down here--because we're going to like you. Now, of course it's none +of my business, but if I were you I would keep away from Sears' +place--he will make his threat good. He has it in him to become a +pretty bad man--but as I say, it's none of my business. Goodnight, +sir." + +After Cochran had gone, Terry, sleepless, slowly walked the gently +rolling deck. Ledesma stood at the rail near the forward lifeboat +gazing into the soft shadows which shrouded the muttering ship. At +Terry's quiet approach he turned to address him abstractedly in the +liquid Spanish of cultured Filipinos. + +"Buenas Noches, Senor Teniente." + +Terry answered in the same tongue: "Good Evening, Senor Ledesma. A +fine night." + +The natives' vague fear of the dark--wrought into instinct by a +thousand generations of ancestors who crouched at night around +flickering campfires in jungles through which crept hostile men and +marauding beasts--had fastened upon him, stripping him of the thin +veneer of civilization the Spaniards had laid but lightly over the +Malayan barbarism. He shifted uneasily, looked out over the starlit +sea. + +"Teniente," he murmured, "I like not the night. The dead rise ... some +sing ... some complain ... drift through the black mists searching for +those they have long lost ... the vampires seek for unprotected +children.... I like not the night...." + +Lost in the ghastly realms of native ghostlore, he ignored the +American. Terry rounded the deck once and when he came again to where +Ledesma had stood he found him gone to seek the cheer of lighted +cabin. Terry stopped at the forward rail, his face upturned to the big +stars which burned in the soft depths of the warm sky: the Southern +Cross poised just over the crest of Apo. Below, on the black sea, the +thrust of the vessel threw up a great welt which bordered the wedge of +disturbed waters: phosphorescence gleamed like great wet stars. The +tips of cigarettes glowed on the forward deck where members of the +crew lay prone, exchanging occasional words in the hushed voices races +not far from nature use in the still hours of the night. + +The morning would find him in a strange place, among strangers ... he +leaned upon the rail in a sudden excess of yearning for those whom he +loved, summoned the spirits of those who loved him. They came to him +through the night--Susan fretting, Ellis affectionately gruff, Enrico +boisterously cheerful, Father Jennings wise, patient, watchful. +Another, fairer, unutterably dear, hovered near him: he strove, as of +old, to bridge the gap--and was baffled, as of old. + +The eight bells of midnight roused him from his dejected reverie: he +straightened from the rail. The Cross had dipped into the clouded +crest: miles to the west a shorefire bit into the black mantle that +draped the Gulf. The low wailing of an infant and the guttural +endeavors of the mother to soothe it came up from the forward deck +where the native passengers lay sprawled in the profound slumber of +the Malay: pacified, it slept again, then the night was still but for +the soft sounds of displaced waters and the creakings of the ship's +old joints. + + * * * * * + +As he passed along the narrow, ill-lighted passage toward his cabin he +heard a voice raised in ugly imprecation: + +"I'll get him if he comes, the ---- upstart! Just let him show his +face on my place, by ----, I'll fix him!" + +It was Sears' voice. As he felt his way down the dark corridor, he +heard Lindsey's low tones, reproachful, conciliatory. + +A few steps further brought him near Sears' door. Suddenly he +distinguished a figure outlined against the door, listening. As a +match flared in Terry's fingers, the native whirled. + +It was Matak. He followed Terry to his cabin, unabashed. + +"Master," he said simply, "he talk about you. He make fight talk--kill +talk--so I listen." + +The seed of his loyalty fell on ground furrowed by the lonely hours on +deck. Shame at having given way to a great depression swept over +Terry--friends were in the making, this splendid friend already made +... and he had come to serve, not to seek.... He smiled into the +worshiping black eyes. + +"It's all right, Matak. You do not understand. You go to your quarters +and get some sleep." + +The Moro lingered. "Anything more, master?" + +"Yes, Matak. Don't call me 'master': call me 'lieutenant.' + +"Yes, master." He left the cabin. + +Terry, always a light sleeper, was awakened toward morning by a slight +sound outside his door. Looking out into the dim corridor he saw that +Matak was standing guard over his slumbers, armed with a big bolo +whose naked length gleamed viciously in the semi-darkness. + +Touched by the devotion and realizing the futility of trying to drive +him from his vigil, Terry lay back on the pillow, the rhythmic beat of +the propeller in his ears. Asleep, he dreamed, and the chug of the +screw became the beat of an engine bearing him away from the home of +his fathers. + +The Moro heard the restless tossing and stepped silently into the +little stateroom, his young-old eyes fastened upon the wistful lines +that marked the competent young face. While he stood brooding over his +young master the dawn streaked through the open porthole, and a soft +splash sounded from up forward as the ship dropped her roped anchor. +They were off Davao. + +Terry had come into port. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE LAND OF HEMP + + +In three months the Gulf had laid its spell upon Terry. He had come to +love the great slopes, from the sandy coastline to the last swift +grades to Apo's distant top, the loveliness of the wind-tossed palms +which fringed the water's edge, the sparkle of the ocean's blue +expanse and its quick response to moods of sun and wind. + +During the noontime hours the sun was blazing hot but he could order +his work so as to avoid exposure. Out at daybreak, he usually +accomplished the duties of the day during the cool morning hours, +reading through the siesta hours in the coolness of his great open +house. + +Seldom did the routine of his work--the drill, the sifting of patrol +reports, the minutiae of the service--overreach into the afternoon +hours: then he was free to range the country, to learn its trails and +towns, its people and its spirit. His big gray pony had become a +familiar sight in every village, on nearly every plantation. Sometimes +he was gone upon two-day trips up or down the coast, or riding the +narrow trails through the deep green shade of the woods, his Stetson +seldom touched by direct sunlight. + +There was a never-ending pleasure in the hemp fields, great sweeps of +tall abaca plants glinting in the sun: and in the sluggish, useful +river which drained the levels, its turbid bosom bearing a few silent +native craft, its oily depths suggesting a basis for the legends of +huge crocodiles which no white man had ever seen. + +He worked hard, but it was not all work. Many an early evening found +him out on the broad Gulf in an outrigger canoe he had learned to +handle with native skill, sometimes with Matak, oftener with Mercado, +the first sergeant of his Macabebe company. Sometimes, when the +surface was calm, he spent wonderful hours in studying the cool depths +of the waters, the lee-shore coral ledges which bore fairy gardens of +oceanic flora, brilliant-hued, weird-shaped, swaying gently in the +tidal current: strange forms of sea-life moved among the marine +growths,--some beautiful in form and color, others hideous. Once, +while he watched a school of smaller fish playing around a huge +sea-turtle, they disappeared as if by signal and the tortoise drew in +his scaled head and sank to rest on the bottom as a swordfish swam +majestically over the spot, then darted into deeper waters. There were +clams as large as washtubs. + +Often, while Mercado--or Matak--paddled, he trolled a flashing bait to +lure the gamefish which swarmed in the depths. Rarely did such an +evening pass without a long fight with a leaping pampano or a sea +bass: with thirty or forty pounds of desperate muscle at the other end +of a hundred-yard line, the song of reel was sweet. One night he +brought in an eighty-pound barracuda but usually the larger fish cost +him line, leader or spoon. + +At times the surface of the Gulf was alive with schools of leaping +fish: one evening he saw a great fish, a tanguingi, rise into the air +with nose pointed upward, till, at a height of twenty-five feet, it +reversed for a downward rush to plunge in the exact center of the +ripples its great leap had created. Once, far out on the Gulf with +Matak, he came upon a forty-foot whale asleep on the surface, rolling +dreamily from side to side: the Moro, unafraid of man or devil, turned +Malay-green with terror as Terry prodded the huge black surface with +his paddle. Awakened, it upended in a sluggish dive, the heavy flirt +of its great glistening tail smashing the left outrigger and drenching +them to the skin. + +Terry had attended strictly to the affairs which properly came under +his control and in doing this and doing it well, had won the respect +of natives and whites, a respect which had warmed into admiration +among those who knew him better, into affection with those who knew +him best. The loyal Macabebes would have followed him against any foe, +and, better than that, they drilled hard and worked faithfully that +they might be a credit to their leader. + +The natives knew him as "_El Solitario_," "The Solitary," partly +because he played his game alone in a quiet competent way, to all +appearances equally friendly to all, regardless of color or condition, +partly because he seemed unconscious of the lures of all those brown +maidens known to be as shady of character as of color. + +He had often stopped to spend an hour or two with Ledesma on his +prospering plantation. He liked Ledesma's sincere, old-school +courtesy, and he liked him because Ledesma was known as an +Americanista, looked upon the Americans as God-sent to guide his +people out of their sloth and abysmal ignorance. But he gave up these +visits following a day when he found the dark-eyed, ripe-bosomed +daughter alone in the house and learned, in her flaming passion for +him, that she had misunderstood the reason for his calls. + +The frequency of his trips to the outlying plantations had increased +as the weeks went by, especially to the pitiful holdings of some of +the poor natives. Malabanan's coming had been broadcasted across the +land, and an uneasiness had settled over the Gulf, a vague fear Terry +sought to allay. But Malabanan's record, a dark and dismal history of +hideous crime for which he had been but half punished, was known +throughout the country, and was the nightly subject of fearful +conversation in every hut on every isolated plantation. + +Terry had ridden, alone, to the neglected settlement up the coast +where the gang of roughs had rendezvous, but Malabanan was away. A +dozen hard-looking natives had sullenly responded to his curt +questions. None were working, though he had arrived during the cool of +the afternoon and the fields cried for attention. + +In Davao, the town, he found consuming interest. Sleepy six days in +the week it woke each Wednesday during the couple of hours the weekly +steamer anchored offshore to discharge cargo into a lighter, drop a +passenger or two, and send ashore the exiles' greatest balm--home +mail. He came to know everybody: first the other government +people--Lieutenant-Governor; Scout officers; Dr. Merchant, the +district health officer; school teachers, native postmaster. Seldom a +week passed that he failed to saunter into each of the Chinese +tiendas, making the purchase of matches or other small articles the +excuse for a half-hour's visit. Oftenest he went into Lan Yek's smelly +little shop, for there the Bogobos brought their mountain hemp to +trade for small agongs: tired from their heavy packing, they would +squat down on the floor along the wall, one of them occasionally +stepping to an agong to test it with deft contact of finger, all +joining him in rapt study of its tone, measuring the duration of the +lingering waves of sound. Terry learned, in time, that they found +greatest merit in those agongs which rang longest to lightest stroke. + +Even those timid Bogobos who never left the wooded foothills knew him. +He went among them, studying their language, learning their customs +and hopes and fears, listening to their picturesque traditions. +Always, when he met a file of the beaded, braceleted folk upon the +trail, he dismounted to exchange a few words with them. Unbelievably +shy at first, in time they came to know him as word passed through the +foothills of the young white man who understood: so they brought their +problems to him, some pathetic, some ridiculous--recently he had +ridden twenty miles to settle a dispute regarding the ownership of +some yet unborn puppies. + +As their confidence increased, they unsealed their tight lips in +relation of strange tales of the Hill People, unbelievable stories of +the wild tribe who lived in the forbidden mountain beyond the Dark +Forest: stories told usually by old men and old women, who shivered as +they whispered their legends to the white man by the campfire. They +told him the dread stories because they liked his quietness, his +slightly twisted, friendly smile, and because, as they told each +other, he listened as one who sees not with the eyes alone. + +When he saw that the fear of Malabanan had spread among these widely +scattered, defenseless wildmen, Terry grew grimmer. But as the weeks +passed peacefully by, hope grew within him that Malabanan's presence +in the lovely, fertile Gulf boded no ill. + + * * * * * + +Major Bronner, arriving unexpectedly, found that Terry had been away +all day on a mission among the Bogobos. Learning from Matak that his +master would return within a few hours the Major left his bag and +crossed over to the Davao Club for dinner. Entering the club, a roomy +house furnished by the planters to provide a comfortable place in +which to put up when forced to town by business or the monotony of +their isolation, he passed straight to the dining room, discovering +Lindsey, Cochran and a dozen others he knew. As he paused in the +doorway Lindsey spied him and called him to the table he shared with +Cochran and two others. After the Major had responded to the greeting +called from all four tables, Lindsey took up the thread of a story the +Major's entrance had interrupted. + +"Major, I was just telling of my experiences with the hemp machine I +brought down three months ago. As I was saying, I set the machine up +in my biggest field and tried it out in private--and Man! How she did +strip hemp! Convinced that I had the world by the tail I sent word out +to all the Bogobos in the neighborhood to come in next day to see the +machine work, and sent a special bid to the old chief who lords it +over that section. + +"Well, they came all right--ready to see the crazy Americans' newest +devilment--and all set for the feast they knew I'd give! The chief +came, with the bunch who act as a staff for him, and I lined them up +right in front of the machine in the center of a crowd of two hundred +wild men--all about as scared by the machine's appearance as they +could be. I was pretty proud, and pretty happy: I gave them a good +spiel through my interpreter, telling them that from now on all who +worked for me would be free from the hard toil of stripping--nothing +to do but field work--and all that. I thought that they would admire +this new evidence of the American genius, would pile over each other +in their desire to work for me. + +"I nodded to the mechanic: he cranked the engine and it got off to a +fine start and before throwing in the clutch that hooked it up with +the stripper I looked out over the silent, brown-faced crowd. I had to +grin at their expectant, half-scared attitude: the old chief stood +right in front of the big machine--he was uncertain about it all, but +game. I threw her in and waved to the feeders, who tossed in the great +stalks as the big iron arms started to revolve in the air. It did make +an infernal racket--but it did strip hemp. The fiber came out of one +end, the juice ran into a trough--oh, it worked great. + +"I spent a minute or two seeing that everything worked right, then I +turned triumphantly to the crowd. But, Lord--there wasn't any crowd--I +saw the last of their brown backs disappearing into the brush! + +"All but the old chief. He stood right there; stiff with fright, I +guess! I stopped the machine and went over to him to ask him to tell +his young men to work for me as he could see how easy it would be for +them, now that I had this machine." + +He paused, laughing ruefully. "But I didn't get a chance to say a +word. He took one last look at the now quiet iron monster, clucked +that peculiar 'Tuk!' in which they express the maximum of emotion, +uttered two words--'_Americano devils!_'--then stalked away as rapidly +as his bent old legs would carry him. He disappeared into the +woods--and hasn't been seen since! + +"And worst of all, all of my Bogobos quit me, so that instead of +cornering the labor market in Davao I lost most of what I had! I'm +punching the bag every day now, getting in shape to greet the next +_hombre_ that tries to sell me a machine!" + +He joined goodnaturedly in the laugh which filled the room and when it +subsided turned to the Major gratefully. + +"Major, my hemp lay rotting in my fields: it meant serious loss to +me--it would have wiped me out. But Lieutenant Terry heard about it +and without saying anything to me, went among the Bogobos and +persuaded sixty of them to work for me--the most I ever had was +thirty-one. He has a wonderful hold upon them--they will do anything +he says: and I'm not the only one he has helped out; am I, boys?" + +A dozen planters supported him, enthusiastic, vehement. + +Cochran knew the Major intimately, his hobbies and aversions. He +turned to him solemnly. + +"Married yet, Major?" + +"Who--me? I guess not! No petticoats for mine!" + +In the laugh which rose over Cochran's elicitation of the bachelor's +invariable formula, several of the planters moved their chairs near +the Major's table. All of these quiet, efficient Constabulary were +well liked, and the Major had been known to many of these Davao +pioneers since the days when they had fought together against +insurrectos, cholera, torturing sun, treachery; the days when capture +had meant the agony of dissection piecemeal, hamstringing, the ant +hill. + +The Major's face had relapsed into gravity: "Lieutenant Terry is well +liked, then?" he suggested. + +Lindsey replied, earnestly: "Major, he owns this whole Gulf. He hasn't +an enemy--not counting that gang of Malabanan's up the coast." + +Burns, a gruff old planter, interposed: "He had one enemy, once." + +Cochran understood that the uncommunicative Burns would go no further +and thought the Major should be enlightened. + +"As I was the only witness," he began, "I guess I must tell the story. +One of our planters, Sears, took a dislike to Terry on the way down +from Zamboanga: no reason for it--he was grouchy and sore, had been +drinking too hard trying to forget his troubles. + +"You know Sears, Major. His inability to get labor was ruining him and +he went too far in 'persuading' the Bogobos to work for him. Well, he +went after Terry on the boat, and it wound up with Sears threatening +to do Terry up if he came near his plantation: and Terry quietly +assured him that he would go there first of all. + +"We were all worried about it for a week, as Sears is a bad man when +aroused and never goes back on his word, and we knew Terry would +go--he was all business, though quiet and white. Well, when Sears got +back to his place all of his Bogobos had left him, the fields were +deserted. It meant the loss of his crop, complete ruin, so he got to +drinking harder and finally, desperate, brought in some Bogobos at the +point of a pistol and put them to work. + +"It was pretty raw, of course. Everybody knew of it that night. The +next morning I rode over to offer him some of my men and as I came in +sight of the house I saw Terry, riding his gray pony, enter Sears' +clearing from the east trail. + +"I was pretty scared. I knew he was there on business--that he would +be the first one to hear of Sears' coup. I spurred up to see if I +couldn't prevent serious trouble, but when I drew near I pulled up: +there was something in his face that made me keep out, made me +understand that I was an outsider in this affair. + +"Well, Sears rushed out just as Terry dismounted, his eyes inflamed +with rage--and with a whiskey hangover, I guess, though he seemed +perfectly sober. He stood at the top of the steps looking at Terry, +his face purple, trembling all over: he had his 45 in his hand. Terry +tied the reins to the lower railing, then stood looking up at Sears +with that queer expression which I couldn't fathom. Sears spoke first, +his voice husky. + +"'So you've come, Terry,' he said. + +"'Yes, I have come, Sears.' He looked sort of small and white compared +with Sears up there, but somehow I could not worry about him. I +thought Sears would choke for a minute, then he said: + +"'If you put a foot on those steps I'll--I'll--' + +"Terry didn't give him a chance to finish the threat, but stepped +forward. I noticed that his gray pony sort of nipped at him, +affectionately, as he passed his head and made the first step up. +Sears must have gone clean crazy. He raised the big pistol and fired +pointblank! + +"They weren't fifteen feet apart, but he missed, and that shot passed +over Terry's shoulder and tore a great chunk out of the cantle of his +saddle. The pony tore loose and ran away. I just sat there, scared to +death! + +"Terry never took his eyes off Sears and he still wore that same +expression I mentioned before: he was white as a sheet but he was not +scared. No, sir! Sears kept the pistol pointed at him and as Terry +came up another step I saw the hammer lift again, but it eased back +and the pistol wavered as Sears fell under the spell of Terry's +upturned eyes. His face changed queerly as Terry kept coming, he +stepped back uncertainly, the pistol dropped to his side. He +understood why Terry had come, and I did also, at the same time. + +"Terry was SORRY for him!" + +Cochran paused a moment to conquer a little catch that had crept into +his voice, and then concluded his story: "Well, Major, Sears realized +suddenly what he had tried to do and looked down at the gun in his +hands as in a dream, then offered it to Terry. But Terry shook his +head, said something in a low tone I didn't hear, and they went +inside, leaving me to cool my heels in the yard like the rank outsider +I was! They came out in half an hour, arm in arm, and Terry stepped to +the rail and sounded the Bogobo call. In about a minute a big gang of +half-naked Bogobos filed out of the woods into the clearing and +gathered around him at the foot of the steps. + +"Terry talked to them awhile in their own lingo, then asked Sears if +he had living accommodations for the whole bunch. Before coming to +Sears' place he had spent the night in the foothills and persuaded +seventy Bogobos to come in and work for Sears--Bogobos, mind you, who +have always feared Sears and refused to approach his place! + +"That's the story, Major,--except that Sears harvested his full crop, +is on his feet again, has cut booze and treats his men as well as any +planter in the Gulf. And he sure does worship this young lieutenant +of yours!" + +The Major studied the end of his cigar. "He never reports anything +like that," he admitted. "I'm glad you told me." + +"You'll hear plenty more such--" Cochran began, but was interrupted by +the loud entrance of little Casey. He tore into the room, breezy, +voluble, greeting every one with short, jerky sentences. He reached +the Major last. + +"Hello, Major! How's everything? I passed Lieutenant Terry on the +trail--three miles out--he was leading his pony--said it was lame +though it hardly limped at all! Tried to get him to mount and ride in +with me--but he wouldn't--sure and he's the merciful man to beasts!" + +He rambled on till the Major interrupted him with: "How are the +breeding experiments coming on, Casey? Any foals yet--or pigs?" + +The little man disregarded the amused grin of the planters, pouring +forth in long eulogy of American mares and boar. "You come down to my +place in about two weeks," he wound up at last, "and I'll show you! +I'll have some cross-bred colts and pigs worth the seeing--and I'm +going to name the first one after Terry!" + +"First pig?" Cochran seemed serious. + +"No--first colt--the first pig I'll name for you!" + +Soon the Major left Casey capably sparring with the plaguing Cochran, +and seated himself on a broad window ledge above the dark plaza, +smoking thoughtfully. He had made no mistake in sending Terry here. +Three phonographs strove against each other from different houses +along the plaza. It is characteristic of the Americans in the +Philippines that most of them take unto their bosoms these mechanical +comforts, instead of the animated talking machines which the Spaniards +affected. The sky was black with the threat of rain, low thunder +rumbled in the west, above Apo. + +A few minutes, and the Major distinguished two forms making their way +along the north side of the dark plaza and as they passed under one of +the oil park-lamps he recognized Terry, leading a weary pony which +limped slightly. As the Major secured his cap and waved a cheery +goodnight to the gathering, Lindsey hurried to the door to intercept +him. + +"Major, Lieutenant Terry promised to come over to my place to-morrow +afternoon. We were going to have a drive against the wild +pigs--they've been raising the devil with my young plants. You will +come along with him, won't you?" + +"You bet! I haven't had any shooting in months. But you won't let that +big snake get me, will you?" + +Chuckling, he left the club and crossed the plaza to Terry's quarters. +Entering, he heard Terry splashing under the shower. Terry emerged +soon, kimono clad, his face lighted hospitably when he spied the Major +sitting by the lamp-lit table. + +Dressed, Terry ate and listened while the Major smoked and talked. + +"Lieutenant," he finally remarked, "there is no more trouble among the +Bogobos?" + +"No, sir. It has stopped--as I reported to you." + +The Major regarded him closely: "What stopped it?" + +"I just talked to some of the planters, and they understood." + +Looking up, he flushed under the Major's quizzical gaze. + +"Major, those planters at the club have been stuffing you!" he +complained. + +The Major gravely discussed Malabanan. "Terry, you may not have to +move against him--I hope not, anyway. But I want you to be in a +position to finish anything he starts. Do you want me to send you an +additional company?" + +"No--I can handle anything in reason with the Macabebes." + +"What did you do with the secret service man I sent down?" + +"I planted him up the coast where he can watch that gang." + +Terry unfolded his plans for handling the situation should the +ladrones break loose upon the Gulf, and the Major was satisfied. + +"It hardly seems possible," he said, "that they will try it--but with +only one company here to cover the whole Gulf--and in so remote a +settlement--it may look like easy pickings. But if Malabanan +dares--you smash him!" + +The threatened rainstorm had passed to the north, leaving the night +clear and cool: a strong breeze fluttered the lamp. Matak entered to +clear the table and Terry, who had not eaten the fried chicken, pushed +it toward the Moro with goodnatured impatience. + +"Matak, this chicken is only half cooked: I've warned the cook several +times--tell him to eat it." + +Matak, silent and grim as ever, bore the offending dish out, while +Terry turned to the Major to discuss the morrow's sport. In a moment +their voices were drowned by the crash of dishes falling in the +kitchen, then a fearsome shriek reached the startled pair, a moaning +cry terminating abruptly in a choking gurgle. They sprang up and into +the kitchen. + +Matak was astride the prostrate Visayan in the midst of the broken +crockery and bent tinware spilled from the upset table. He had the +cook's mouth pried open in determined endeavor to ram what looked like +half a chicken down the Visayan's gullet. Half-strangled and crazed +with fear the cook rolled his eyes beseechingly. + +Bronner raised Matak bodily and Terry helped the trembling Filipino to +his feet. He turned to Matak sternly. + +"What does this mean?" + +"He would not eat it, master." + +The cook broke in, almost hysterical: "Matak say I must eat cheecken, +that you say so. I say 'all right, eat to-morrow.' He say 'eat now.' I +say 'no, to-morrow.' Then he fight. I no eat to-day--notheeng--to-day +church fast day!" + +As recollection came of his joking instructions to the ever serious +Matak, Terry turned to the Major but he had run from the kitchen, +choking. Having patched up a truce between them, Terry followed the +Major into the sala. + +At sight of his rueful face the Major burst into fresh laughter. "His +fast day!" he chuckled. "These Moros are sure literal-minded--they +follow your words exactly. I've had some queer examples in the past +year." + +They sat through the cool evening talking of their multi-phased +service, Bronner earnest and unwittingly eloquent in his summing up of +its ideals, its hopes for the future, Terry silent and thoughtful as +the big man talked about plans for Mindanao, for the Gulf. + +"And some day, Terry," he concluded, after a stirring account of what +two officers, Case and Gallman, had done among the Luzon headhunters, +"some day we will get to the Hill People: the right man will come +along, and the right combination of circumstances. It is an unusual +combination--the right man plus the right place plus the right time. +Carnegie would probably have been just a tight-fisted Scot had he +lived in Napoleon's time, and Napoleon if born in this generation +might never get a headline. + +"I would like to be the man who first wins to the Hills. Think of the +glory of such a life work--opening the doors for a benighted people +and leading them out of savagery into the decencies and comforts and +safety of civilization!" + +The steady evening breeze had stiffened, swinging the great airplants +which hung in the big windows. The far howl of a dog sounded through +the dark: the sleepy crowing of scores of gamecocks accurately gauged +the passing of another hour. The Major suggested sleep. + +Terry, in pajamas and slippers, came in to see if his guest were +comfortable for the night: assured, he crossed the sala, blew out the +light and entered his own room, closing the door behind him. Shortly, +while the Major lay watching, he threw open the door and the Major +heard him climb into bed and adjust his mosquito net. + +The Major mused: "That's queer--I wonder what he does behind the +closed door?" + +He fell asleep puzzling over it. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE PYTHON + + +Nothing could be more impersonal than the manner in which the Major +inspected the company. He was very curt and official: no detail eluded +his attention, no fault of equipment, quarters, drill or training +escaped comment and correction. The command was in fine shape but it +is a service in which there is but one standard--perfection, and +perfection may never be attained. The inspection consumed the morning, +but when they sat at lunch in Terry's quarters, rank had perished +again. + +At two o'clock they set off leisurely for Lindsey's, Terry quiet, the +Major jovial at the prospect of a drive at the wild boar. They jogged +through the hot afternoon over a trail winding under a canopy of +foliage shrill with the plaint of myriad insect life. An hour out and +the Major was nearly unseated as his pony shied violently from a +three-foot iguana that scurried across their path in furious haste. +Farther into the woods, and they drew rein, listening to the mystic +tone of a Bogobo agong rung at minute intervals: Terry judged the gong +to be six miles distant westward, the Major contended for half a mile, +north of them. Such is the weird quality of the agong in the forest. + +At four o'clock they drew up at Lindsey's roomy, thatched house set in +the middle of his clearing and in a few minutes Lindsey, soaked with +perspiration, hurried out of the tall growth of hemp ripening in his +south field. + +"I feared you might not be able to make it," he smiled. "You can never +tell what the next day may bring you Constabulary fellows!" + +He called his head native, a stocky Visayan, and ordered him to start +the beaters out, explaining to his guests that they would take their +places in an hour. The three then strolled through the streets of the +little village Lindsey had built for his laborers and their families, +a double row of neat bamboo huts, grass roofed, of which he was very +proud. Returning, they passed a huge machine rusting under a rough +shed, Lindsey's ill-fated hemp machine, introduced a little too early +to an ignorant people. + +Lindsey unlocked a trunk and brought out three high-powered rifles, +two of them borrowed, contrary to the law of a land where firearms +must be zealously protected against falling into hostile hands. He led +the way through the long rows of abaca which drooped listless fronds +in the quivering heat, and into the cool woods which surrounded his +fields. They went on for a half-hour into deeper jungle, emerging into +a strip of natural clearing from which they could hear the beaters +converging toward them. Lindsey stationed Terry at the left end of the +break, Bronner in the center where the shooting should be best, +himself taking the right end. + +As the beaters approached, crashing the underbrush and shouting +lustily, the three stood motionless, guns ready: the suspense grew +tense and the beaters grew silent as they hurried, unseen, from the +line of fire. A moment of dead silence, then Lindsey heard to his +right a dry twig snap and turning saw a big boar slip out from the +brush and pause, its ugly tusks foam-flecked. His heavy gun crashed, +the boar leaped convulsively across the clearing, falling at a second +shot. As it dropped he whirled to cover a big buck which sped across +his field of fire: as it fell he heard the cracking of a lighter +weapon to his right and thought, as he shot again and again, that his +guests were not being disappointed in their sport. + +It was fast work while it lasted. Lindsey inspected with keen +satisfaction the bag of two pigs and one deer that had fallen to his +gun: he had missed one boar and another, which he had wounded, had +escaped down the trail which led to his house. He turned to see how +his friends had fared. + +The Major was known as a crack shot but no game lay before him. +Approaching him, surprised, Lindsey saw that he was absent-mindedly +putting his rifle at safe the while he stared at Terry. + +"Major, I'm sorry you had no chances--" Lindsey began but the Major +interrupted him. + +"Chances! Chances? Sus-marie-hosep! Some of those pigs almost ran up +my breeches!" He was as nearly excited as Lindsey had ever seen him, +and they had served together in a Kansas regiment. + +"Lindsey, I'm sure glad you asked me to come--I've seen something +worth seeing. I've seen him shoot!" + +He pointed to Terry. His borrowed rifle stood nearby against a tree +and he was busy clipping fresh ammunition into his pistol magazines. +Five wild pigs lay in front of him near the opposite side of the +clearing. Lindsey looked his unbelief. + +"Yes, he did!" asserted the Major. "I watched him do it--that's why I +drew a blank. Five pigs, five shots,--and after each shot he holstered +the gun till the next pig hove in sight! I've seen good shooting, but +such drawing--such certainty-- + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" he wound up, lamely. + +Terry, having replenished his magazine, clipped it into the big +automatic with a deft snap, and turned round toward them. Noting their +attitude, he colored boyishly. + +"Pretty lucky, wasn't I?" he said. + +"Yes," agreed the Major, drily, "you were pretty lucky!" + +The beaters had come up. Lindsey ordered them to carry the game for +distribution among his villagers. The sun was dipping behind the hills +as the three started back the trail through the dense woods, Lindsey +leading the way and searching for signs of the wounded boar. Every few +rods he found a pool of blood where it had paused in flight. + +They entered the deep shadow cast by the spread of a great banyan tree +from whose thick branches a score of accessory trunks were sent down +to seek root in the soil. Rooting, they grew into smooth, heavy +supports for the wide-spread limbs which towered above the surrounding +forest. Terry paused a moment in the twilight of the tree, studying +appreciatively the miniature forest of trunks parented by the one +ancient growth. Suddenly a warning cry escaped his lips as he saw one +of the long dark trunks, a foot in diameter, loosen from a branch +where it hung suspended high over the Major's head. + +"LOOK OUT, MAJOR!" + +He leaped forward, expecting to find the Major crushed, but +involuntarily halted midway in his stride as the heavy trunk, landing +at the Major's feet with a slithering thud, writhed a terrible length +into massive folds. No eye could follow the inconceivably swift +contortions that wrapped the Major in a triple fold. + +Two heavy coils prisoned his legs, a third passed round his back up +over his right shoulder to curve to the trail in front of him and rear +again in a length which terminated in a massive head poised six feet +from the Major's blanched face. Demon-eyed, unwinking, its thin lips +bisected the thick-boned jaws in frightful, moist grimace. + +Lindsey, horror-stricken, stood helpless while the hammer head +catapulted at the sickened face of its victim. The Major's free left +arm, raised instinctively to blot out the sight of the living horror, +took the terrific impact, then dropped to his side, paralyzed. Still +bearing that hideous grin the flat head drew back for another blow at +the exposed face. The Major, faint with the terror of his helplessness +and the crushing weight of the quivering masses of muscle about him, +would have fallen but for their dread support. His consciousness fast +deserting him, fascinated, he watched the monstrous leer as the head +drew farther back, poised. He felt the agonizing pressure as the +great muscles steeled for the blow, and in the moment before his +senses departed, heard two crashing shots that sounded from behind +him. With the smashing reports the poised head thudded to the ground, +the folds fell from about him and he slid down among the great +quivering coils. + +Recovering consciousness, the horror crept back into his face but +receded when he saw Terry standing by him. Still faint and sick he +struggled to his feet, leaning against the trunk of the banyan and +stamping his feet weakly to restore the still numb legs. Terry helped +him hobble over to where the Bogobos, who had come up at the shots, +were grouped about the dead monster. Lindsey, kneeling to examine the +head of the great reptile, struck a match to point out the jagged +wounds that had shattered the base of the head. + +"Cut the spinal cord," he explained quietly. He was as pale as the +Major. "Any other wound, even fatal,--it's death struggles would +have--I hate to think of it, Major." + +At the Major's questioning look he pointed toward Terry: "He shot it. +Pistol." + +The Major surveyed Terry steadfastly, striving for appropriate +expression of what was in his heart. + +Then, "Terry, I am much obliged. If I ever--if ever you--I'm much +obliged!" + +It was dark when they reached the house. Later they heard the +triumphant shouts which announced the arrival in the village of the +men bearing the carcass of the snake, which had haunted the +neighborhood for a generation. The celebration of its passing lasted +far into the night. After dinner Lindsey and Terry strolled to the +village to measure the python, and Lindsey ordered it skinned +immediately. + +You may still see the trophy in the Davao Club, its scaly length +stretched along the molding on two sides of the library, where the +Major asked Lindsey to place it with this legend: + + This python attacked Major John Bronner, P.C., + on the Lindsey Plantation. + + Length................24 feet, 9 inches + Greatest diameter.............14 inches + + Major Bronner owes his life to the wonderful + pistol marksmanship of his friend, + + Lieut. Richard Terry, P.C. + +The ride home through the dewy night stiffened the Major's sore +muscles and strained joints intolerably. Terry called in the Health +Officer, fat Doctor Merchant, who looked him over and pronounced him +uninjured, leaving some vile-smelling liniment. The Major winced under +Matak's too efficient rubbing of bruised areas. + +"Horse dope!" he snorted. + +Later, dozing, he waked to see Terry's door close and open again after +a few minutes. Puzzled as on the preceding night, he fell asleep over +the problem. + + * * * * * + +Governor Mason had dropped the Major at Davao while he went on to +Mati, planning to return for a short stop at Davao in forty-eight +hours, but as they finished their leisurely breakfast they heard the +whistle of his cutter approaching Davao from the south. + +"Wonder what's up," said the Major. "He's twelve hours ahead of his +schedule." + +They walked slowly to the dock, the Major still stiff-legged, arriving +just as the launch was lowered over the side of the trim white boat +which lay anchored a half-mile offshore. As the launch neared shore +they saw the Governor standing on the stern seat. + +He stepped up on to the little dock and greeted the Major, then turned +his smile upon Terry, apologizing: + +"I planned to spend a day here with you all, but have been recalled. +As usual my departure from the capitol was the signal for a dato to +start a row!" + +A group of officials and more prominent natives had gathered at the +pier. He shook hands with each, calling each by name, then gathered +the officials about him in a brief conference which disclosed his +grasp of conditions in the Gulf. At the end of the short discussion he +drew Terry aside. + +"No trouble yet with that gang of roughs--with Malabanan?" + +"No, sir." + +The Governor's face bore a look Terry had not seen in it, an +unrelenting determination, a grimness: "Major Bronner has told you how +I want this matter handled?" + +"Yes, sir. Wait, let him make the first move, then move against +them." + +"Exactly! I want to demonstrate for all time that this province is as +unhealthy now for criminals as during Army days!" + +For a moment he studied Terry keenly, then his gaze traveled over the +splendid vista of the Gulf appreciatively, mounting higher and higher +till it rested on Apo's dim crest. A moment and he turned to Terry +again, to find that he, too, was lost in a rapt contemplation of the +Hills. + +"Lieutenant, some day ... somehow...." + +"Yes, Governor." + +The Major fidgeted uncomfortably in the presence of the two dreamers. +Two short blasts of the cutter's whistle restored the Governor's urban +manner. In a minute he and the Major had said their good-bys and were +bobbing over the little seas toward the ship. + +The group of Americans and natives split up as they returned toward +the town but Terry lingered at the dock watching the cutter as it got +under way and raced toward the horizon, leaving a white ribbon of wake +on the blue gulf waters. Three large bancas were approaching the +shore, belated fishermen returning with the night's catch: a fleet +vinta, bearing Moro traders, bore toward Samal, its little sail +glaring white in the actinic sunlight: the morning air was hot and +filled with the heavy odors of sea and shore. It was a fair spot, +Davao, productive, peaceful.... He looked up the coast toward the +north where Malababan had settled with his unsavory crew. + + * * * * * + +He spent the day at the _cuartel_, correcting all the little defects +the Major's stiff inspection had uncovered. The Macabebes responded +eagerly--they, too, wanted to be perfect. They felt trouble in the +air, scented impending combat, and Macabebes thrive on combat. +Sergeant Mercado, veteran of seven campaigns in Samar and Cavite, +drilled them tirelessly, his eyes afire with the old fighting glint. +And that night he donned his starchiest uniform, pinned on his bright +service medals, and made the round of the tiendas, throwing chests at +the black-haired girls behind the counters. Great fighting blood is +usually great loving blood. + + * * * * * + +Terry ate dinner alone. The house seemed too big without the Major. +Restless, reading failed of its usual absorption. After a while he +took up a letter the last mail had brought from Deane and reread it. + + DEAR DICK:-- + + Your letter telling of transfer to the Moro Province has + just come. I had to study the map to find out where it is! + If it means advancement I am glad--though we had all hoped + that when you left Sorsogon it would be to come home. + + Your letters are so funny, so interesting. You write such + nice things about the natives that I am becoming fond of + them too. But the other day I read an article written by a + cynical woman who has lived in the Islands only a few + months. I read part of it to father, the part which says + that "the Filipinos are a worthless, shiftless, lazy people; + improvident, untrustworthy and immoral!" After I had read + that he thought a moment and then said: + + "Well, Deane, people are just about the same as that around + here!" + + Everything is going about as usual around Crampville. They + are tearing down the old watering trough in the square--it + is a nuisance to automobiles. They had some trouble over on + the South Side last week among the foreigners but Father + Jennings smoothed things out. He told me that he has a + harder time keeping them contented since you left. I learned + from him that you used to spend a good deal of your time + among them, that they idolized you.... Why did you never + talk to me about such things, Dick? + + Bruce is earning a great reputation but insists on staying + in Crampville. He has been called to Albany twice during the + month to perform some special operation. He finds time to + run in on us nearly every day. + + Susan and Ellis do not change: they are quite the happiest + couple we have--though they both do miss you terribly. + + You never mention the native girls. Are they attractive, + lovely? Do not let one of them fascinate you. We need you + here, Dick,--Susan and Ellis, Father Jennings, the + foreigners--all of us. + + DEANE. + +His deft fingers fumbled as he folded the letter and locked it in the +drawer. Vainly smoothing at the lock of hair which always stuck out +from the crown of his head, he stared vacantly at the lamp shade, +oblivious to the entrance of the silent, morose Matak, who carried the +bottle of boiled drinking water into the bedroom and then went out for +the night. + +A hoarse ghekko lizard croaked its raucous six-song from a rafter +overhead: a giant bat flapped through an open window, fluttered, +crazy-winged, thrice about the big room and blundered through another +window into the night: the low voweled voices of native passersby +floated up from the dark street. + +But Terry heard nothing, nor felt the scent-laden breezes which roused +the heat-soaked town to life.... He was walking up Main Street again, +with rifle and snowshoes and fox, of a Sunday morning just as the +heavy church doors swung wide to the emerging congregation.... + +A strong gust flickered the lamp. He rose, slid shut the exposed +window and returned to his desk. In a few moments he took pen and +paper, and wrote. + + DEANE-DEAR:-- + + Your letters come to me across the thousands of miles of + land and sea, carried by sooty train and boat, buried in a + dross of mail in prosy canvas sacks: I open them with the + delight one feels when he brushes aside the mat of damp and + frosty withered leaves to find the timid beauty of arbutus. + + You think, perhaps, you might grow fond of these people? I + know that you would love this Gulf as I do. The humid heat + of the day oppresses me but little: I love the sparkling + hours of dawn, the cool of the evenings; the great tangled + stretches of green which clothe the slopes from sea to the + edge of the mountains that loom gray in the distance, like + the rim of the world. And I like the courageous planters, + toiling that the world may have its hemp: the young-old wild + tribes, emerging from their primitive mental shallows, a bit + bewildered, pathetic. + + Yes, I think that you would like it all, too, + though--sometimes--I am not quite sure. + + The mountains are not like our Vermont hills: more rugged, + wilder, more--what shall I say!--unsolved.... Thinking of + the home hills I can almost conceive the vast significance + of the word "eternity": but thoughts of these primeval hills + sweeps my mind backward, to the infinity of creation. + Untamed, untraveled, mysterious by day as by night, they + threaten as they beckon. + + Nearly every evening, near sundown, I see a pair of wild + pigeons homing toward the crest of Apo. "Limocons," the + Bogobos call them--"leem-o-sahns": the word falls limpid + from their lips, unaccented. They say the limocon never was + heard to sing in the lowlands, and tell a strange legend + that it is an oracle of the Hill People, its song a + harbinger of good or evil tidings. + + An old Bogobo woman told me of this one night, in a little + foothill village, when the spell of dusk had unlocked her + lips: and she told, whisperingly, of twice having heard the + Giant Agong of the Hill dwellers, once when she was a child, + again when she was grandmother to nineteen. I wish you could + have been there to watch and to listen: sitting near the + fire in front of her hut, surrounded by a circle of almost + naked wildmen who moved, uneasy, she told quaveringly of how + the booming tones had rumbled down the forested slopes, and + of how ill had befallen her people both times; when she + ceased, they stood breathless, their whole beings strained + to catch the dread sound none but she had ever heard. Yes, + she moved me, queerly ... I scarce know why. + + I am lonely--a little--at times. But who is not? Yet I have + my work to keep me busy, usually happy. Just now I am facing + less pleasant duty--but it is, I fear, a work that must be + done. It is good to know that one is needed, as I am + here,--just now. + + But never a day is born or dies but that I miss you all, as + I love you all ... Susan and Ellis, Father Jennings, the + foreigners ... all of you. + + DICK. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE STRICKEN VILLAGE + + +A week later, Terry stood at the window looking down over the +blistering plaza. Davao was torpid under the noonday heat. Three +carabaos grazed undisturbed on the forbidden square: another of the +awkward powerful brutes dawdled up the dusty road, hauling a decrepit +two-wheeled cart on which a naked-backed, red-pantalooned native +dozed: Padre Velasco, the aged Spanish priest, waved a weary hand at +Terry from his window in the old adobe convento. As he watched he saw +the soldierly figure of Sergeant Mercado emerge from the _cuartel_ and +hurry toward him. + +Entering the room the soldier saluted stiffly and reported that a +patrol had just come in from the foothills with the information that a +mysterious fever had attacked the Bogobos in the barrio of Dalag, that +a score were stricken and four already dead. + +Terry hastened to the quarters of the Health Officer to apprise him of +the facts. He found him cursing the heat, sweating profusely, though +wearing nothing but a thin kimono. A very fat man, Doctor Merchant, +inclined to be fussy about little things but magnificent in big +things, and thoroughly imbued with the idea that his work of +protecting the natives against their own sloth and filth was the only +interesting problem in the universe. Alarmed at Terry's report, he +ordered his horse saddled and rose heavily to don his field clothes. + +Terry expostulated. "Doctor, you ought to wait till it cools off." + +"Lieutenant, disease spreads all the time--it takes no time off +duty--so why should I?" + +He came out fuming over a missing button: "Confound it all! I never +have--how do you keep so immaculate, Terry? You always look as if you +were on your way to a dinner or dance!" Wiping the perspiration from +heavy jowl and neck he lumbered about the room collecting medicine +cases, saddle bags, two big canteens, finally answering Terry's +question. + +"No, you can't go with me--if I need you I'll send for you." + +Terry followed him downstairs and helped him mount the ridiculously +small pony, then watched the sweating, cussing, bighearted doctor ride +out into the sun on his errand of mercy. As the tough little pony bore +his heavy burden into the trail and out of sight in the brush, Terry +decided humorously that Casey was right--bigger ponies were needed. + +During the afternoon the _Francesca_ had limped in and out of port. +Among his official mail Terry received a confidential memorandum from +Major Bronner that erased the softer lines about his mouth: + + Zamboanga, 12/18/191-. + + Memo for Lieut. Terry. + + Last night a notorious criminal, Ignacio Sakay, passed + through Zamboanga enroute to Davao. + + Sakay was identified with Malabanan in some of the latter's + most vicious undertakings, was convicted of brigandage and + has been but recently released from Bilibid Prison. + + Sakay is not a leader but is bold and absolutely relentless. + Among the natives he was known as "Malabanan's stiletto," + and was supposed to do all of the killing. + + You may look for immediate action from these men: Malabanan + has doubtless been awaiting his arrival. + + Destroy this memorandum. + + BRONNER. + +Terry read the terse communication twice before lighting it with a +match and scattering the charred remnants over the polished mahogany +floor. He passed a grim afternoon with the Macabebes on the target +range, where the scorers wagged bull's eye after bull's eye, for +twenty-seven of the Macabebes were expert riflemen, forty-three were +marksmen. + +He saw that Matak, serving dinner, was gripped in one of the +smoldering moods that often preyed upon him. Though his attentions to +his master were even more meticulous than usual, he moved with an air +of somber detachment. Terry had often pondered on the history of the +queer Moro and now he studied him as he cleared the dishes and lighted +the desk lamp. + +"Matak," he said. + +The Moro came to him, his melancholy eyes fixed steadfastly upon the +master of his choice. + +"Matak, you know that I have never asked you anything about your past +life. I am not going to ask you now, unless there is something in +which I can be of help to you." + +Matak faced his master, his brown features Moro-masked, inscrutable. +A moment he searched the concerned countenance, then before Terry +understood his purpose, the tight muscles of his face relaxed and he +slid forward to kneel on one knee and raise Terry's hand to his lips +in the Moros' final homage to an _apo_--a self-chosen master. Rising, +he exposed a face stripped of its mask of Oriental imperturbability. + +"Master," he said, "I tell you. No other knows. When I am small +boy--twelve years old--my family live east coast Basilan. Very happy +family, master: father, mother, sister, me; three carabaos we have, a +little house, chickens, a little _vinta_ in which to fish--everything +Moro family want. We hurt nobody, just work. + +"One night, very late," his face darkened, "men come. They steal +carabaos, everything. My father wake up, go out to see, and they +laugh--and kill him. I--a little boy--see them do it: see them kill my +father--with bolos. Then they kill my mother--the same man--the same +bolo. I see that, too: they say she too old, and they laugh." He spoke +slowly, hesitating before each short sentence, his black eyes dulled +with the terrible memories. + +"My sister--she sixteen years old--they take her away. They take me, +too, because I soon be strong boy to work. My sister--they say she +pretty girl!" He raised his hand in unutterable execration. + +"We sail all night, all day. Second night, I hear my sister scream, +see her fighting with same big Filipino who kill my father and mother. +Another Filipino hold me away, laughing ... always I know that laugh, +master! + +"She Moro girl, he Filipino, so she fight hard--she rather die. She +hurt him, so he draw knife, kill her, and throw her in sea: then other +Filipino holding me hit me with bolo and throw me in too." + +He whipped off his thin cotton camisa and exposed a deep scar which +furrowed his left shoulder. It had severed the clavicle, and +improperly knit, drew the left arm slightly forward. + +"I swim ashore, two miles, to Lassak. Next morning I take boat, find +sister, bury her on beach. I, twelve years old, master." + +He paused, a picture of implacable hatred and purpose. + +"Master, I see Filipino who kill all three my family. He born with +left eye all white. I know him any time, any place. That nine years +ago. Nine years I no laugh, no sing, no play, no talk with Moro girls, +no marry--just listen--just look; listen for that laugh, look for big +Filipino with left white eye. Nine years I no tell anybody, just +listen, just look. I never find. + +"But now I know I find him, soon. For I know you help Matak, master." + +He had read the distressed white face correctly. Terry rose, placed +his hand upon the Moro's shoulder--the scarred shoulder--and looked +down into his now emotionless face: + +"Yes, Matak, I will help," he said simply. + +Content, the Moro turned silently on his bare heels and padded out +into the kitchen. + +Usually Terry strolled the dark streets before going to bed, but +to-night a heavy downpour kept him indoors. Outside, the square was +loud with the drum-fire of the heavy fall on iron roofs, the rush of +water through shallow dirt gutters; inside, the big house roared, the +roof trembled overhead. He paced the floor, sleepless, worried with +thinking of Matak's terrible story, of the Doctor striving to succor +the stricken village, of Sakay's joining Malabanan. + +There was another worry, too. Though there was nothing in the +eternally verdant land in which he was living to make the fact seem +real, the calendar indicated that Christmas was less than two weeks +distant, and for the first time since the days when she had first +intruded upon his boyish consciousness as something different, +something wondrously dear and fine and unattainable, he had sent Deane +nothing. + + * * * * * + +He was awakened before daylight by the arrival of a spent Bogobo +runner bearing a note from Doctor Merchant: + + Dear Lieut:-- + + Can you come to Dalag for a day? These people are + panic-stricken, won't do a thing I order, won't take + treatment, but are trying to exorcise the devils of disease + by all sorts of queer rites. + + I hate to ask you to come but your influence among them is + so great that it seems justifiable to ask it. + + If you do come, bring your mosquito net--don't fail to do + this. The disease is mosquito-borne, and fatal if untreated. + The temperature runs are terrific--highest I ever saw. + + MERCHANT. + +Terry rode out of Davao at seven o'clock, bound for Dalag. Within a +mile he overtook Lindsey, who had spent the night in town. They rode +together several miles to where the trail, soaked with the night's +rain, forked toward Lindsey's plantation: the sun shone white hot, the +earth steamed through its mat of decayed vegetation. + +They drew rein at the fork, dismounted. Lindsey broke the silence in +which they had ridden following Terry's brief explanation of his +mission. + +"Terry," he said, "you're too young for all this worry." + +Terry's face relaxed into a slow grin: "Lindsey, how old are you?" + +"But your work is different--and you are different, Terry." + +Terry's bantering grin gave way to a smile of singular sweetness, the +queer smile which deepened the depression at the corner of his mouth. + +"Lindsey, I know what you mean, I think.... All my friends--" + +He paused, gently discouraging his pony from its persistent nibbling +at his arm. Lindsey waited, hoping he would continue, but Terry looked +away, idly studying the thickly planted hemp fields that extended from +the fork to Lindsey's house, a mile distant. The still wet leaves +flaunted on great stalks fifteen feet above the wonderfully fertile +soil. + +"Lindsey, I wonder if you really appreciate what you are doing in +taming a soil that was wild in jungle ages before Pharaoh's time, and +making it useful to man." + +He pointed to the huge plant nearest them; "The fibers in those +stalks--I can see them, woven into a rope that may warp a steamer to +dock in Tripoli or Hoboken or Archangel: or fashioned by happy +Japanese fingers into braided hats to cover lovely heads in Picadilly +or Valparaiso or Montreal: or woven into a cord which will fly a kite +for some tousle-headed boy in Michigan or for a slant-eyed urchin on +the banks of the Yang-Tse Kiang: or, somewhere, it may be looped into +ugliest knot by a grim figure standing on a scaffold--though I hope +not!" + +Lindsey had listened in curious wonderment to this conception of his +work. He thought it over, laughed. + +"Well, maybe that's what you see, Lieutenant,--but I see wild pigs +rooting up my immature plants, lack of labor, poor transportation, +fluctuations of price, typhoons undoing a whole year's work--take my +word for it, I see aplenty!" + +Terry tightened the girth, tickling the knowing pony's nose till a +sneeze compelled contraction of the expanded chest. Mounted, he seemed +loath to go, and twisted in the saddle to look down at Lindsey. + +"About what you said a moment back--that I was 'different.' All my +friends have always been like that--wanted to look after me, somehow, +though I can look after myself, pretty well. I never quite understood +why they felt like that ... about me. So, I know what you meant, +Lindsey. And I want you to know that--that I like it." + +Lindsey gripped his outstretched hand, then stood at the fork watching +the slender rider thread through the maze of the trail out of sight. +Mounting, he started homeward along the edge of the field trying to +interpret the strange appeal this young officer had exerted over him, +this quiet lad whose very competence and cheerfulness he somehow found +pathetic. He involuntarily halted his pony as solution came to him. + +"Why, curl my cowlick!" he exclaimed aloud. "That's it--he was BORN +lonely!" + + * * * * * + +Terry rode into Dalag at noon and found the doctor even redder and +hotter than usual. The perspiration glistened on his hands and wrists, +dripped from his fat face and neck, and his once-starched clothes hung +limp from his rolypoly frame. Worn with loss of sleep and fruitless +efforts to bring the frightened Bogobos to reason, he welcomed Terry +weariedly to the little hut that had been sat aside for his use. + +Terry took command, so quietly that the doctor did not realize it. A +few brief questions elicited the measures the doctor wished put into +effect, simple curative methods and preventive precautions. +Understanding, Terry started out, but was recalled by the doctor. + +"Lieutenant, did you bring your mosquito net?" At Terry's affirmative +nod he continued: "It's a good thing you did--the village is swarming +with nightflyers, and every one of them is loaded to the hilt with +plasmodiae!" + +The village, a mere scattering of crudest huts along the river front, +seemed deserted, but from nearly every hut came the low wailings of +the sick and the frightened. Noting that the lamentations had ceased a +few minutes after Terry went out, the doctor stepped to the door and +watched his progress from shack to shack, saw how the picturesque +little savages grouped about him. They knew him and listened to him +confidently, so that the parboiled doctor was as much disgusted as +pleased with the ease with which Terry secured the cooperation for +which he had begged and stormed in vain. + +Under his direction they cut down all of the plant life whose upturned +leaves or fronds held stagnant, mosquito-breeding water, climbed tall +palms to brush out the rain water accumulated in the concave +depressions where frond joins trunk, even twisted off the cuplike +scarlet blossoms from hibiscus shrubs. They carried green brush to a +series of smudges he lit to cordon the village against the vicious +singing horde of germ carriers. Best of all, they ceased their +incantations over the sick, unwound the tight cords they had knotted +around the abdomens of the stricken to prevent the fever from "going +further down," opened the grass windows that gasping lungs might +obtain decent air, and swallowed the doctor's hitherto neglected +medicines. + +There were no chickens in the village, no eggs. The doctor bemoaned +the lack of nourishment for his sick. So Terry summoned four of the +ablest hunters and disappeared into the woods for an hour, returning +with a young buck speared through the lungs and shot mercifully +through the head. In an hour a big pot was boiling in the middle of +the street that throughout the night the sufferers might receive hot +soup made up of venison, yams, eggplant and rice, all that the village +afforded. + +Doctor Merchant, watching the transformation, marveled at the method +of persuasion. There was no attempt at exercise of authority, no +raising of voice, no gestures, only patient explanation, an assumption +of mutual friendliness, a sincere and ample sympathy. + +Shortly after sundown the doctor, exhausted with the worry and stress +of the hours before Terry came, distributed his bulk as comfortably as +possible on the bamboo floor, tucked in his mosquito net very +carefully, and fell into a heavy sleep, too exhausted to await Terry's +return. + +It was as well that the doctor did not await him, for Terry spent half +of the night by a fire kindled at the base of a big tree in front of +the chief's abode. Seated on a stump near the blaze, surrounded by a +ring of half-nude Bogobos whose timid eyes seldom wandered from his +face, he answered their questions and erased the last vestiges of the +panic into which the epidemic had precipitated the villagers. + +Interrogation at an end, he still stayed on with them. The flickering +blaze lighted the circle of little brown folk, each flare gleaming on +an eye here, glinting there on beaded jacket or brass trinkets with +which both men and women were adorned. The first mad panic had abated, +but Death had stalked through the settlement six times in as many +days, and they listened superstitiously for the stark Tread through +the woods which hemmed them in. Each whispering wind that stirred the +leaves overhead brought a deeper silence, each wail from delirious +sufferers in nearby huts tightened the little circle. + +The quavering gutturals of a half-blind old woman, wrinkled and +shrivelled with a number of years no man could estimate, jarred the +dumb circle. + +"My years are as the scales of a fish. Each year has brought wisdom. +Listen." + +It was the invariable preface of a Bogobo legend. Terry stirred: it +was the old woman who had told him of the Giant Agong. + +"This sickness takes not many more of our people. The white men will +stop it. Trust them. These white men are Bogobo friends. These white +men are strong, wise, honest. White is better blood than brown blood. +Yes. The Hill People knew this." + +At the mention of the dread folk the group of tribesmen moved +uneasily. A young hunter nervously stirred the flagging fire into +brighter blaze as the old woman went on: + +"Yes. The Hill People knew. Have you forgotten how the Giant Agong +rang the night the Spaniards lost their girl-child? + +"No. You have not forgotten. The Hill People took her--they wanted +white blood in the veins of future chiefs. They knew what white blood +means--the Hill People know!" + +Curiously thrilled by the simple legend, Terry moved nearer to the old +woman. + +"Grandmother, how many years ago was this?" + +"Years? Years? I know naught of your white man's years, but this I +know--it happened during the rains before the dark-eyed white men +gave way to the blue-eyed white men." + +Interpreting this as referring to the departure of the Spanish troops, +he gently pressed her for further details. But she was finished. + +It was dawn when the doctor rose. Groaning in the agony of the fat man +who wakes stiff from the discomfort of an unaccustomed hard bed, he +sat up, then forgot his miseries in a new worry as he saw Terry asleep +under the open window, wrapped in his saddle blanket but without the +protection of a mosquito net. He cursed, stopping midway in his +vehement outburst to cock his head at the absurd angle in which men +think their ears function best. As he heard the ominous drone of the +insects his experience had taught him to fear more than wild beasts, +he scrambled to his feet with amazing celerity. + +A light sleeper, Terry awakened and lay regarding him quizzically, +enthusiastically dissecting the stream of invective the doctor poured +upon him for sleeping without his net. Suddenly sensing the +responsibility the doctor felt in having summoned him to the village, +Terry explained his lack of a net. + +"Doctor, I gave my net to the chief's wife: she--she is about to +become a mother, and she had none." + +"Hell's bells! What Bogobo woman isn't about to become a mother?" he +stormed, refusing to concede the justice of the act. "'She had +none'--and probably didn't use yours!" + +He was facing the window, past which the chief, arrayed in all his +half-naked splendor of beads and brass, sauntered with an air of +confidence quite different from his terror of the past week. + +"There goes the chief, Terry, all fancied up like a bathroom on a +German liner! But he has no pants--why don't you give him yours? He +'has none'! You make me--" + +He stormed on and on. Terry, still wrapped in his blanket, sat before +him looking up with an absurdly rapt air as of a student at his +master's feet. Merchant stopped to swab the thick perspiration from +his face, laughed at Terry's humbugging pose, and desisted. Terry +slipped on his shoes, buckled on the leather leggings he had used as a +pillow and picking up his saddlebags went out to clean up at the +river. + +Finding on his return that the doctor was again genuinely disturbed +over his exposure to the disease, he sought to divert him. He sneezed +violently, and as the doctor listened with professional interest he +followed it with a series which mounted in volume and vigor. Merchant +eyed him solicitously. + +"You've caught a bad cold, Lieutenant." + +"Yes." Terry snuffled and drew his handkerchief. "It was awfully damp +in here last night." + +"Damp? How could it be damp in an open shack this time of year?" + +"Well, it was. A regular mist!" He sneezed explosively, then took a +few short turns about the little hut in search of the cause of his +malady. + +The doctor watched him, interested. Bending suddenly, Terry held aloft +the perspiration-soaked nightshirt which the doctor affected. + +"Eureka!" he exclaimed, dramatically, then dodged the shoe the hoaxed +doctor let drive at his head. + +After an hour's investigation of conditions in the village the doctor +was convinced that he could now handle the situation alone and +insisted upon Terry's returning home. His parting injunctions were +worried. + +"Now Lieutenant, you watch yourself closely for several days and if +you display fever symptoms, you send for me." + +After Terry had ridden down the river bank and into the long homeward +trail, the doctor's overworked conscience smote him hard: + +"Hell's bells! I never thanked him for coming!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MALABANAN STRIKES + + +Next morning Terry rose as the first sleepy cock challenged the +pink-streaked day. Shaving in the dim light, he watched the plaza +merge out of its darkness and fill with the natives passing listlessly +to field or waterfront. A few short minutes and the day arrived hot +and still: hens sauntered forth to begin their tireless, day-long, +scratching search: bony curs, sleepy after their instinctive vigils +through the night, made couches in the dusty road: across from where +Terry stood at his bedroom window, the four daughters of his Tagalog +neighbor sat in a little circle on a sunny bamboo porch structure, +each intently examining another's loosened hair in a community search +for--well, for whatever might be found. + +By nine o'clock he had snapped the company through a sharp drill and +by noon had finished the weekly inspection. The afternoon passed in +preparation of monthly reports scheduled to go on the mailboat +expected in that evening. It is the function of the Constabulary to +know everything that transpires: health conditions, state of crops, +appearance of any strangers, activities of native demagogues, +movements of suspicious characters, morale of the people. Everything +is observed and reported, and summarized at headquarters to form the +basis for intelligent handling of a difficult problem. + +Of the epidemic he wrote: "A disease identified as a particularly +virulent form of pernicious malaria appeared last week among the +Bogobos in the barrio of Dalag. The Health Officer is on the scene and +in conference with the undersigned decided that the use of our troops +for quarantine duty was not necessary. It appears that he has the +disease under control." + +Under the heading "Recommendations" he set down: "Request that the old +provincial archives be searched to ascertain if a Spanish family +living in this Gulf during the last months of Spanish occupation +suffered the loss, by abduction, of a female infant. An interesting +story to this effect has been communicated to me by Bogobos, who +attribute the crime to the Hill People." + +The mailboat limped in early in the afternoon, waking the torpid town +into semblance of interested activity during the brief duration of its +stay. But before she had disappeared over the horizon native Davao had +relapsed into stupid placidity, and the Chinos had stored the meager +cargoes dropped for them--print goods, cigarettes, matches, rice, a +few small agongs, and, probably, a little opium. The lethargy of the +tropics during the hot hours is entire and complete: the angel Gabriel +himself will fail of unanimous native response unless he toots his +cheerful summons during the cool hours between dusk to dawn. + +Terry still sat in the cool orderly room at the cuartel, energetically +clearing his desk of the last accumulations of the paper work he found +a chore, when the dapper sergeant entered with his mail. Sorting +quickly through the dozen official envelopes in anxious search for one +addressed in the neat hand that always quickened his pulses, he +discovered, miserably, that there was none from her. Fighting off the +discouraged feeling that accompanied lapses in her correspondence with +him, he slowly opened a letter from Ellis. Ellis' letters, few in +number, had always been cheerful but brief statements of how matters +went on at home, usually business affairs. He put Ellis' letter in his +blouse pocket to read after dinner, then attacked the pile of official +mail: he wanted no unfinished office work to keep him in the morrow, +as he planned another quiet look at Malabanan's place. When the +Sergeant bore in the lighted lamp Terry ordered him to have the launch +ready at daylight. + +Night had wrapped the town when he crossed the plaza to his quarters. +Matak, silent as ever but of more cheerful countenance, set the table. +At his second laconic announcement Terry rose and crossed to the +dinner table, and as he seated himself a white missile was tossed +through the open window by an unseen hand and landed with a thud on +the bare floor. Matak brought it to him, and unwrapping the paper from +about the pebble Terry read the note. It was from the secreto whom he +had planted near Malabanan's plantation. + + Sir: + + At eight o'clock last night Malabanan left here with a + newcomer named Sakay and 22 of his "laborers." + + From my post I could not see if they were armed. + + They have not yet returned. (9 A.M.) + + I will follow in banca. They sailed south in a large lorcha. + + Will report further when I return. + + "47" + +Leaving his unfinished dinner, he paced the floor. The midnight +departure of Malabanan with his chief lieutenant and a majority of his +followers might mark the beginning of outlawry, or it might be a +legitimate excursion into the deepsea fisheries. Yet the secreto had +said nothing of nets, and a party of twenty-four men would be in each +others' way. Terry hastened over to the cuartel, checked up the patrol +chart, then called the Sergeant, who verified the position and route +of each of the two-man patrols who were covering the countryside. +Satisfied that his men would discover and report the landing of any +strangers within a few hours after they touched soil, Terry returned +to the house. + +He sat on the wide ledge of the window, thinking. The night seemed +unusually warm despite the stiffening breeze which blew off the Gulf; +he opened the collar of his blouse.... Where was Malabanan--what was +he doing? He saw a man's form outlined against the bright Club window +and answered the arm waved at him: it looked like Lindsey, he +thought.... "Give 'em plenty of rope and if they make a break--Smash +'em!" He shivered at the thought of sighting a gun against a fellow +man, and again in sudden rush of memory of the night in Zamboanga.... +He saw Lindsey appear again at the Club window to peer in his +direction, then turn abruptly. In a moment he saw him leave the Club +and cross the plaza, hatless.... Deane--why had no letter come--he had +expected one, wanted one.... + +He slid off the window ledge as Lindsey came in, sincere and direct as +usual. + +"Terry," he began, "I saw you sitting here alone and came over to ask +you to join us at the Club." + +"I can't, Lindsey." + +Lindsey studied the unusually pallid skin: "Why not?" he demanded. +"You're working too hard, Terry, and worrying too hard. Let's forget +it all for an hour or two!" + +"I'm much obliged, Lindsey, but I can't come to-night." + +"The fellows asked me to get you, Terry. They think it is queer you +come so seldom." + +Understanding something of Terry's weariness of spirit he strove hard +to persuade him to spend the evening in the pleasant Club, but was +unsuccessful. Desisting, he talked a few minutes with Terry and then +left, a little embarrassed, wholly disappointed. + +Alone again, Terry slumped into a big cane chair drawn up by the +table. His cheeks burned; he thought, vaguely, that he must have +shaved too closely. Loosening his stiffly starched blouse, he crackled +the letter from Ellis, opened it without much interest: then his whole +being tensed. + + Crampville, Nov. 23, 191-. + + Dear Dick: + + Everything lovely here--and things are going to pick up with + you when you read this! + + Yesterday Deane's father came in the bank and asked to see + me confidentially. Thinking he had come on bank business I + took him into my private office. Well, he just sat there + facing me for several minutes, not knowing how to begin. You + would have thought he had been robbing a train or something, + he looked so absurdly guilty! + + I just sat there watching him, taking a most unchristian joy + in his trouble, whatever it was: I have had it in for him + ever since--since you know what. I liked the way his Adam's + apple chased up and down his throat. + + Finally he swallowed hard and began: "Ellis, I came over + to--to ask you to--to send over that fox skin that Terry + gave Deane last Christmas." + + Just like that! It sure was a pill for the old boy to + swallow but he went the whole hog like the old Puritan he + is. Once started he kept going, though still phased. Said + that he was glad that you had found something worth doing + and were doing it well, that he took a lot of interest in + your goings-on--as he called it--and that Deane always read + your letters aloud. And the last thing he said before he + went out was that he hoped you would soon get spunk enough + to write her some letters she "wouldn't dast read out loud!" + + He said THAT about my brother-in-law! Great leaping frogs! + What is the matter with you? + + Get busy! Write--and make 'em sizzle! + + ELLIS. + + P.S.--I forgot to say that I am sure she made him come to + see me. Also that Sue took the skin over last night. And + also that Bruce is more than professionally interested in + the nurse he imported from Albany to look after his office. + It has been some time since he hung around Hunter's--and as + to why, I do not know, but I sure am some little guesser! + +Terry had never questioned the decision he thought she had made that +Christmas eve in returning the fox skin, had thought it hers, and +final. As the burden of a year fell from him he sat quietly, smoothing +at his stubborn, crown lock, the wistful twist of mouth ironed out by +a faint smile. He bent to read the letter again but after a few lines +the words were blurred out by a salty rush to his steady gray eyes. +Rising, he went into his bedroom and closed the door quietly behind +him, emerging in a few minutes. Perfect peace lay in his eyes and they +shone with the light that will never die in this world as long as men +live, and women. + +Two days to Christmas, he thought, and he had sent her no remembrance. +He stood at the window, tasting the cool thickness of the evening, +breathing the fragrance of ylang-ylang: leaf and frond, stirred by the +monsoon, purred in gentle contact. In the starlight the old stone +church outlined its old-world, old-time architecture in friendly +shadows which veiled the pitiful scars and age-stains: the bamboo +shacks across the square--wry, flimsy, smutted by a hotly jealous +sun--had yielded to the magic of the night to become little golden +houses in which the fairies abode till the morning stars should fade. + +A present for her ... he pondered long, the while he stifled his +desire to go outside and shout the joy that tugged at his restraint. +Suddenly he started, tightened as the idea fastened upon him, then +fairly ran to his desk. A hurried search for cable blanks and he wrote +in desperate haste that consumed four misused forms before he +accomplished an intelligible message: + + Miss Deane Hunter, Crampville, Vermont. + + Christmas greetings from palmed coast to snowy shore. Please + cable will you accept so humble a Christmas offering as an + equal share in the future of one + + RICHARD TERRY. + +Buttoning his blouse as he ran, he raced down out of the house and +over to his orderly room, where he typed the message and sent it out +by a soldier. The dozen Macabebes lounging in the _cuartel_, who had +sprung to attention when he passed, stared at him and then at each +other--this joyous, whistling boy was new to them! He crossed the dark +plaza: natives, looking out of raised windows, wondered who that +Americano was who walked in and out of the shadows of the great +acacias, singing: + + When in thy dreaming + Moons like these shall shine again: + +Being natives they did not understand the English words, but being +natives and instinctively attuned to the most ancient of emotions that +throbbed in the low baritone, they listened silently and stared out +into the night long after the singer had passed. + +He reached the house, hesitated. Lindsey had said that the fellows +wanted him to come over to the Club ... he had neglected +opportunities to be with these good friends. He sailed his cap up +through an open window and crossing a corner of the square went up +into the gayly lighted building. + +That night at the Club became a sort of tradition in the Gulf. They +still tell, wonderingly, of how he entered--a laughing, mischievous, +fun-loving boy, and of how the crowd welcomed this new Terry that none +of them had ever known before. They talk, still, of his deviltries, +the clean jests and keen wit he whetted--always at his own expense, +and as rough old Burns put it the next morning when they talked it +over: "And he niver took a drink and he niver cussed once, I'll be +---- if he did!" As the story of Terry's night at Club spread over the +Gulf all of the planters found excuses to bring them into town +afternoons in the hope of being present when he came again. They rode +in by pony or launch every night for two weeks, and then they ceased +coming. + +For two hours he held them in the spell of his infectious deviltries. +Irrepressibly gay, impish, it seemed as if he vented all of the stored +up boyishness in him, spilled it in one heaping measure. Story +followed story, in quickly shifting brogues that rocked the building +with the sidesore laughter of the transported audience; they followed +him through a seemingly inexhaustible series of anecdote, through a +dozen ridiculous parodies he sang to a one-handed accompaniment +chorded on the battered piano the while he pantomimed with free hand +and roguish face. + +"Why," whispered the astonished Cochran, "the--the--son of a gun!" + +The uproar stilled suddenly as, seated at the old piano, he forgot +them for a moment, saw a vision on the white wall that was not visible +to the others. A few deep chords from knowing fingers, then his low +voice, rich with the depth of his happiness: + + Love, to share again those winged scented days, + Those starry skies: + To see once more your joyous face, + Your tender eyes ... + +The song, or something in the deep voice, pulled at the heart-strings +of those lonely men, who, womenless, never discussed women. Burns +sniffled, then glared belligerently at the others. + +Cochran whispered to Lindsey: "Just what is there about--about that +boy? Is it because he's so pale?" + +"Yes, that's it--you poor fish! But it's about time you quit pinching +my arm--it's getting numb!" + +Flushing slightly in realization of his lapse, Terry had sprung +astraddle the corner of the billiard table, where, absurdly solemn, he +declaimed tragically, combing the classics for sepulchral passages, +plunging the intent listeners into deepest melancholy but concluding +with a droll extemporization that swept them from verge of tears to +convulsed mirth. + +Lindsey, flinging a laughter-helpless arm across a call-bell, rang an +inadvertent summons to the steward that cost him the price of the +drinks and gave Terry a breathing spell. He sat astride the billiard +table under the acetylene lights, vainly trying to smooth down his +scalplock, his eyes dancing in eager enjoyment of the hour and of the +friends who crowded around him in affectionate amazement, laughing and +shouting at each other and at him. + +Cochran's voice rose above the clamor of the room in a raucous whoop. +They all turned toward where he stood near the bulletin board reading +a message he had just torn down. + +He waved the sheet joyously: "I saw the steward tacking it up a minute +ago--it just arrived--from Casey. He couldn't wait to tell us--the +long awaited day has come for Casey!" + +He bent with laughter, then straightened and sobered to read it aloud. + +"Casey talks like the Congressional Record but he sure minces his +written words. Listen. + + Davao Club, Davao. + + Horray! American mare had a filly colt last night. Also + sixteen pigs by Berkshire boar. + + CASEY. + +A roar of merriment greeted the phraseology in which Casey had +hurriedly couched the double event of his day of days. The terse--too +terse--message passed from hand to hand till it reached Terry. He +studied it, his head cocked to one side like a puppy's and with +something of a puppy's quizzical expression. A moment and he slid +slowly from the billiard table and crossed to the corner of the room +where a typewriter had been placed for the convenience of club +members. + +They watched him, glancing uncertainly at each other, as he inserted a +sheet of paper, spelled out a few hesitating words, then jerked it +out, crumpled it in his hand. Slipping in a fresh sheet he started +slowly, pausing, rapt, after each few works. As line followed line the +room became quiet save for the click of the machine, the planters +eyeing each other, waiting impatiently for disclosure of the new +deviltry his whole attitude betokened. Pausing after each few lines to +seek inspiration at the roots of his thick tumbled hair, he wrote for +about fifteen minutes. + +Then, tearing out the sheet, he mounted the chair and with a face +owlish in its affectation of heavy wisdom, he thrust his hand in his +blouse in classic barnstorming attitude and read his creation. + + "CASEY" + + The palm-fringed gulf of fair Davao-- + The garden-spot of Mindanao-- + Has been the Theater where Surprise + Has pried apart our mouth and eyes. + But bounteous Nature, in her last, + Has all her former deeds surpassed! + + What now are Burbank's grafting deeds + Marconi's stunts, whose genius speeds + A message on a wireless tack + And makes of space a jumping-jack? + Where now does Edison hold sway? + Or radium's finder, Pierre Curie? + + Does not this deed alone suffice + To render all that men or mice + Have wrought since days of Tubal Cain + Infinitesimal, and vain? + + No man before has seen a dam + Provide the rudiments for a ham. + And not content with razor-backs + Produce a quota for the tracks. + + It seems like thistles yielding figs-- + A blooded mare with sixteen pigs! + And Truth receives a serious jolt + To find the seventeenth a colt! + Can anything on earth compare + With this performance of a mare? + + But hold! For while I eulogize, + There is another claims a prize + And puts to shame all gone before; + I mean this humble Yankee boar! + What lowly hog did yet aspire + To ribboned fame as race-track sire? + + Consult the annals of all time, + Great deeds extolled in prose and rhyme, + Delve deep in Clio's treasured store, + Exhaust encyclopedic lore-- + You will not find in one edition + A hint of such high pig-ambition! + + Had he but lived in days gone by + When Richard raised his voice on high + And offered Kingdom for a Horse, + To him he might have had recourse.... + Imagine bristly Berkshire swine + Upon the throne of Coeur de Lion!! + + But, while we give our meed of praise + To those who would these isles upraise, + Forget not him who planned all that-- + For it was Casey at the bat! + + Forget not him whose Celtic head + Outdid, when all is done or said, + That classic stunt--the herculean + Minerva sprung from Jovian bean! + + Where else but in the Philippines + Amid these sunny tropic scenes + That lull the senses into rest, + Could come this genius of the West? + For, not content with colt and swine, + He must produce domestic kine-- + To heap the brimming measure full + He perpetrates an Irish Bull! + +Finished, he still stood on the chair, frankly happy in the uproarious +response to his effort to amuse them. + +The clamor subsided in a sudden and almost incredulous appreciation of +his swift composing: and in the momentary silence during which they +gazed at the happy, laughing boy, a pair of heavy shod feet sounded on +the bare stairway--loud, hurried. + +All eyes shifted from where Terry stood on the chair to the stern +visaged Macabebe sergeant who had stopped in the open doorway. He +hesitated a moment, then urgency overbore his instinct against +violation of the white man's domain, and he stepped toward his chief. + +Terry met him in the center of the room. The Macabebe saluted, then +reported in a savage grating voice that carried clear to every +startled ear. + +"Sir, Patrol Number Seven reports that ladrones raided Ledesma's +plantation at one o'clock last night: killed one servant, stole all of +Ledesma's carabaos and money, and stole his daughter." + +Malabanan had dared! The ladrones had struck! + + + + +CHAPTER X + +MALABANAN + + +Terry's pace across the plaza taxed Mercado's shorter legs. He was +surprised that Malabanan's move came almost as a relief after the +weeks of anxious waiting. Scoffing the Constabulary, they had sought +to test the strength of the new government ... "if they make a +break--Smash 'em!" He whirled, taut, as they reached his quarters, and +the battle-loving veteran thrilled with delight as he caught the hard +ring of voice. + +"Sergeant, I'll be ready in ten minutes--you will go with me to +Ledesma's plantation--have the ponies saddled. Double every patrol +along the coast. Send the launch out at once to scour the gulf for +information about a fifty-foot lorcha--add four soldiers to the +regular crew: if they sight or learn of this lorcha they are to return +at once and report the facts--they are not to engage. Retain in the +post twenty of your very best men, under full field equipment ready to +move instantly. Issue extra ammunition. Understand?" + +"Yes, sir!" He about-faced and hurried on his mission, eager, joyful. +This was the life! + +Terry ran upstairs, turned up the light, ripped off his white clothes +and slipped into riding clothes and flannel shirt. As he buckled on +his belt and hooked in canteen and holster, he heard the Sergeant +galloping down the street with his led horse. A swift inspection of +the mechanism of his big automatic, four extra clips added to the +belt, and he ran downstairs as the Macabebe drew up. + +Reaching the beach they turned south, riding fast through the chill +darkness, Mercado keeping his pony a length behind Terry's nervous +gray. They had covered several miles before the sun rose from behind +Samal, gray-pinked sky and sea for a brief bewitching moment, then +swept the low hanging mists from gulf and mountain, and smote, +full-powered, upon the sandy shore down which they rode. The tireless +ponies--crooked of leg but splendid of head and eye in true +indications of their heritage of coarse Chinese and fine Arabian +bloods--toiled steadily over the high-tide beach, sinking coronet deep +in the soaked sand, their footprints disappearing almost as they +lifted hoofs. Courageous, the little animals scrambled over the coral +formations that blocked their path, picked their way, delicately, +through sour mangrove swamps: once, unsaddled, they swam a wide +tide-deepened creek that the riders crossed, bridle reins in hand, in +a small dugout which they found on the bank. + +Their sharp shadows had shortened a third when they swung up from the +beach and trotted down the unkempt street of Sabaga. A chorus of +howls, set up by bony, slinking curs of the type that infest all +native villages, announced their presence but there was no sign of +life in any of the shambling bamboo houses. The village seemed +deserted. + +They pulled up, the Sergeant pointing significantly at the carabaos +tied up under the high perched huts. Terry understood: fear of the +ladrones had paralyzed the natives. As he studied the closed windows +and doors, sensed the terror of these defenseless, harmless people, a +cold hatred of the spoilers narrowed his steel-gray eyes. They were +about to press on when the quiet of the town was suddenly broken by a +cry sounded from a house behind them: + +"_El Soltario! El Constabulario!_" + +The exultant shout was taken up by other voices as windows were +cautiously raised: in a moment the doors were thrown wide and a crowd +of natives swarmed about the two riders. The men shrill-voiced, women +and children hysterical, they crowded around the pair in a confidence +that was pitiful. + +Frightened beyond a white man's conception by the midnight visitation +of ladrones within a half-mile of their village, cowed, witless, they +were reassured merely by the uniforms the two riders wore--the +red-piped uniform of the small, scattered force of five thousand +Filipinos, who, ably officered, highly trained, intrepid, have never +tasted defeat: have wiped out every murderous band that raised +treacherous hand and then, outlawry scotched, have turned the power of +their discipline against the scourges of diseases, floods, cattle +plagues, typhoons. Unsung, unwept, they have carried on, their motto +Service and their goal Success. + +Terry, patient, reassuring, lingered till he had overcome their +immediate fears, left them content with their faith in the protection +he promised them. Hurrying on, Terry and his Sergeant shortly came to +Ledesma's well kept plantation, and Terry turned his pony over to the +Sergeant and approached the big bamboo house. + +Ledesma, gray-haired, distinguished looking, bearing his grief with +Tagalog stoicism, greeted him with the finished courtesy of the +Spanish tradition and led him up the precarious slatted steps into the +house. It was a house of desolation. + +The mother lay moaning wretchedly upon the cane bottom of the carved +mahogany bed which, with four chairs, a round table and a talking +machine made up the furniture of the main room. Ledesma's son, a lad +of eight, sat big-eyed and solemn near an open window, not fully +understanding the blow that had fallen but vaguely frightened by his +mother's lamentations. + +The Tagalog, dignified in his suffering, answered Terry's brief +interrogations intelligently but as he had been out on the gulf with +his fishermen during the raid he had little to offer. Terry turned to +the sobbing mother and in a few minutes she had quieted sufficiently +to tell her story. He grew paler and grimmer as she dramatized the +terror of the midnight entrance of the ominous shadows, the noiseless +gliding of bare feet, the vicious whispered threats, the cries of the +girl as they bore her away into the night and the long wait for +Ledesma's return. Finishing her story, she sank back upon the great +bed, moaning and muttering incoherently. + +Ledesma elaborated her story with details she had told him. She had +recognized neither shadowed forms nor whispering voices of any of the +four who had entered the house while the others herded the stolen +carabaos toward the waterfront. One of them had warned her that this +was what would happen to all of the natives who made too good friends +with the Americanos: and the biggest of the four had bent over her to +whisper in the dark: "And the pale Constabulario won't be able to help +you with his celebrated pistol--soon we will visit him!" + +Terry soon realized that he was wasting valuable time here--and time +was the big factor. He conferred with Mercado, who had been +questioning the scared laborers, but equally without result: no one +could identify any of the band, there was no evidence that would lead +to Malabanan's conviction, though all were certain that the biggest +figure had been his. Bidding Ledesma a hurried adieu he rode away. +Time was pressing ... Ledesma's daughter must be rescued ... soon. He +followed the trail of the stolen carabaos, the renewed lamentations of +the distracted mother ringing in his ears. + +Fifteen minutes along the plain trail torn through the brush by the +driven carabaos brought them out on the beach. There the trail ended: +it was for this that Malabanan had brought the big lorcha that the +secreto had mentioned. A moment of thought and he swung northward +toward Davao, again following the glistening beach. At noon, and low +tide, they forded the creek and swung up off the beach to breathe the +sweating ponies in the deep shade of a mango tree that spread high +above the surrounding brush. Dismounting, they stood as in a huge +green bowl: its bottom the smooth waters of the gulf, iridescent under +a zenith sun and framed as far as the eye could reach with a slant of +parched beach; the sides of the vast concavity were formed by the +verdant mat of jungled slopes that rose with ever increasing +abruptness to the far, somber-edged mountains. + +The doughty Macabebe gave not a glance at the great panorama, busying +himself in refolding the reeking saddle blankets and tightening +girths, then lighted a casual cigarette. Terry, impatient of the +necessary halt, paced the shadowed space restlessly after his first +appreciation of the sun-drenched Gulf. He turned to the Macabebe with +the first words they had passed since leaving Ledesma. + +"Sergant, what is your opinion? Was it Malabanan?" + +Mercado looked up quickly, pleased with this mark of confidence from +his uncommunicative chief. He was positive. + +"Yes, sir. Malabanan." + +"Of course--it could be no other. But--what would you do if you were +in my place--we have no legal proof." + +"I would take a platoon of our best men, sir, and visit his +hacienda--and then there would be no Malabanan, sir--unless dead men +live!" + +"But the courts, Sergeant: we could not convict him on the evidence we +have. And what you suggest would be mere murder." + +"Courts, sir? Malabanan will never face a court--I know that, sir. I +FEEL that, sir!" + +Terry studied the hard face of the little fighting man: "Sergeant, +you don't seem to fear man or devil." + +Mercado's white teeth flashed as he shrugged pleased denial of claim +to such courage, then his roving gaze focussed upon a distant object +and the confident expression altered swiftly to uneasiness, awe, +superstitious terror. Terry, startled at the transformation, followed +the direction of his dread stare and saw that his eyes were fixed upon +the distant, mist-wreathed crest of Apo. He understood. Even this +sturdy little soldier cowered before the obscure menace of the hidden +Hill People. Terry resented, vaguely, that others did not respond to +the spell of the Hills as he did. + +The five minutes had freshened the wonderful little steeds, so they +mounted and pushed on through the heat with eyes half shut against the +glare of sand and water. At four o'clock they pulled up in front of +Terry's quarters. + +A note from the secreto lay on his table. He opened it and read that +Malabanan had not returned, that the place was deserted. He had +anticipated this, knowing that the band would now operate from some +secret rendezvous in the maze of the forests. His problem now was to +locate their meeting place: his patrols must search them out. +Information would be passed quickly to them by the inhabitants of the +gulf--every planter, laborer, trader and native now knew that the +ladrones were rampant: and now the Bogobos would be most valuable to +him, as in their wanderings they covered every inch of the woods to +the edge of the Hill Country, and news of strangers would be brought +to him by swift Bogobo runners. + +A quick shower to rid himself of the intolerable stickiness of the +long hot ride, a change to fresh shirt and breeches, and he hastened +to the _cuartel_. Two patrols had come in during the afternoon, +reporting no intelligence of the bandits but bearing tidings of an +aroused American and frightened native population. The launch returned +an hour later after a fruitless search of the west coast for signs of +the lorcha. He manned it with fresh crew and detail and hurried it out +to cover every inch of the east coast. + +He ordered out two additional patrols to help cover the back country; +detached four of the twenty men whom he had retained for pursuit and +sent them to guard the heedless doctor who labored with his sick at +Dalag. The four warriors marched off cursing picturesquely at the luck +which took them away from the combat group. + +An air of expectancy hung over the _cuartel_. Terry, grave, smoothly +efficient, sat in the orderly room studying maps and keeping the +Sergeant and the clerk busy as he wove a net of patrols of gulf and +coast and foothills which would cover every inch of terrain within the +night. In the big squad room the fierce little Macabebes joked with +each other as they repolished stainless rifles and repacked field +equipment under a zealous corporal's eye. Outside, a knot of +frightened natives occluded each window facing the plaza, peering in +at the laughing soldiers, dully wondering at the makeup of these men +who grinned at the prospect of facing the dread ladrones. + +Every loose string tightened, every loophole closed, Terry left the +_cuartel_ and crossed the plaza toward his quarters. Preoccupied, he +noted that for once all of the phonographs were silenced, the plaza +deserted; and already the town's doors and windows were closed against +the coming night. The impact of Malabanan's first blow, struck thirty +miles south, had been felt in native Davao. His face hardened. + +He strove hard, under Matak's urgings, to do justice to the perfect +dinner. But a dull headache had fastened across his forehead, a +symptom he attributed to his long ride over the scorching beach and to +loss of sleep. + +He had spread his net, the quarry could not escape capture, he had but +to wait as patiently as possible for information as to their +whereabouts: some time during the night word must come from launch or +patrol, from planter or Bogobo. + +Another thought had pressed all day--the answer to his cable. He sent +Matak to the postoffice, hopeful, nervous. But nothing had come. +Rising, he found the room stifling, and he reached for his hat to go +out. Matak noticed that he had forgotten his sidearm and delayed him +long enough to lift it off the wallhook and fasten the belt about his +waist. + +The sun had set. As he walked aimlessly across the town he noticed +that all of the little stores, whose main trade came during the +evening hours, were boarded tight. He wandered down to the little dock +and out to its end, looking over the rippled waters with eyes that +ached strangely. The light faded swiftly, taking with it the pall of +oppressive humidity and freeing the Gulf to the coolness of +approaching night. None of the fishing craft which usually dotted the +gulf at this hour had ventured out. Malabanan had indeed made himself +felt. + +Terry stood near an upended pile, numb with disappointment over the +expected cablegram. The dusk yielded in the distance to a darkness +which crept toward him over the ever diminishing circle of water. + +Suddenly his dulled faculties registered an insistent warning of +danger, he caught the slight creaking of a board behind him. Aroused, +he whirled to face two figures which had halted ten feet from him in +attitudes expressive of the stealth of their approach. In the dusk he +distinguished two unusually large natives dressed in coarse unstarched +crash, and wearing shoes. Each carried a bolo thrust in braided hemp +belts. + +For a tense moment they maintained the pose in which he had surprised +them, then the shorter of the two, who was a pace in front, took a +slow step backward, uneasy in being the closer to the young American +whose eyes drilled him through the gloom. + +Terry, idly fingering his pistol belt with his left hand, shifted his +gaze to the larger of the pair, then unconsciously took a step forward +to better see that queer face. In the shock of surprise he stopped +short and his right arm jerked back into a curious position that +brought the hand below and behind his holster. The left eye of the +big Tagalog glittered white in the night! + +His impetuous, fearless step toward the pair had broken the spell +which held them motionless. The white-eyed native hesitated, glanced +uneasily at Terry's holster, then spoke in brief gutturals to his +companion. Lifting his hat in salutation he bade Terry a suave +"_Buenas Noches, Senor_," and turning, walked off the dock, his +consort close behind him. + +Through the soft darkness Terry saw them mount two ponies which were +tethered to a tree near the end of the wharf, and heard the shrill, +mocking laugh aimed back at him by the smaller of the two as they +galloped away into the night. + +As he made his way rapidly across the poorly lighted town he gave no +thought to the fact that the pair had evidently meant him harm, +speculating upon the peculiar birthmark in the eye of the larger +Tagalog and wondering if he could be the man for whom Matak had sought +so many years. + +He found Matak sitting crosslegged upon the floor fastening brass +buttons into some uniforms which had just returned from the +_lavendera_. Terry stopped before him: + +"Matak, I want to thank you for reminding me of my gun. As it +happened, it didn't do any harm." + +Stepping to the window he blew a blast upon his whistle, an unusual +summons that brought Mercado running across the plaza in most +unsoldierly fashion. Entering, he cracked his heels in salute, his eye +agleam with hope that the break had come. Terry dismissed Matak from +the room before addressing him. + +"Sergeant, do you know anybody in this Gulf who has an albino left +eye--an eye that is all white but the pupil?" + +"No, sir." + +"Who might know?" + +"The Chino Lan Yek, sir. He knows everybody--everybody owes him money, +sir!" + +"Fetch him here." + +In a few minutes Lan Yek stood before Terry, his Mongolian +imperturbability shaken by this night summons from an officer of the +law. With the natives' love of ragging a Chinamen, Mercado had been +very stern and mysterious concerning his mission--and Lan Yek knew a +thing or two about opium smuggling that bothered him as he faced the +American. + +Terry repeated his inquiry regarding the identity of the white-eyed +native, and Lan Yek's response was startlingly illuminating. + +"Yes, me know him. Me know white-eyed fellah. His name Malabanan!" + +Malabanan! This had been the "visit" they had told Ledesma's wife they +would pay Terry. + +"Lan Yek, when did you see him last?" + +"To-night he come, buy cigalet, no pay--talk 'Melican talk--tell me +'Go to Hell.'" + +Terry gestured his dismissal and the nervous Celestial scurried away, +relieved that the interrogation had not been intimate. + +Terry briefly recounted to Mercado what had occurred on the dock, +ordered him to send out a patrol at once to circle the town at a +distance of five miles to discover if possible upon what trail the +pair had ridden out, emphasizing that the patrol was to return and +report to him, regardless of the hour of arrival. + +"And hold the men in instant readiness. I may need them at any moment +during the night." + +There was at least one supremely happy man in the Gulf that night, for +the Sergeant's joy was a living thing as he departed to put the orders +into effect. + +A moment later Terry heard the kitchen door open slowly, and looking +up he beheld the mottled face and burning eyes of the Moro. It was +manifest that Matak had overheard Lan Yek. He stood in the doorway +battling for his voice. + +"Master," he said huskily, "I knew you would help me find him." + +Gratitude suffused his face, then receded before the tide of +Mohammedan fanaticism and fury which welled up from his bitter heart. +Stepping backward, he kept his eyes fastened upon Terry till he had +passed through the door into the kitchen. + +Terry was deeply disturbed by this unforeseen turn of events. He had +decided against informing Matak until he had lodged Malabanan safely +behind prison walls, then to confront him with the Moro and if he +proved to be Matak's long sought enemy, he would add the charge of +triple murder against the desperado. The day of private vengeance must +pass in Mindanao--vengeful killings were murder, punishable as murder. + +He called to Matak, then again, but there was no answer. He hurried +into the kitchen, into Matak's room, then down into the double stable +back of the house. But Matak was gone, and so was Terry's spare pony. +Realizing the futility of searching for him in the night, he composed +himself as best he could. It added another phase to the +exigency--everything now rested with the patrols who were tirelessly +combing the Gulf to discover the new rendezvous. + +He strove for patience, but waiting is hard. He picked up a volume of +poems, discarded it impatiently for a magazine, threw this back on the +table and withdrew from the glare of the lamp which added to his +insistent headache. Looking out on the dark town he saw that even the +Club was unlighted, the first time since his arrival in Davao. His jaw +tightened as he pictured the isolated planters sitting through the +night, rifles on knees, listening for hostile movements in the jungle +surrounding their hardwon acres. + +Drawing up a big cane chair he sat in the shadow looking out into the +dark. The sky was like a vast black colander perforated haphazardly +with a myriad brilliant openings which paled and glowed. The crescent +of the young moon hung over the faintly outlined mountains: he watched +it slant slowly down till its lower point was absorbed in the heavy +mist which blanketed Apo. + +Malabanan loose with his ravaging band ... Matak, alone, searching for +him in the night ... Ledesma's daughter, that gentle, big-eyed girl, +at the mercy of such beasts ... would the patrols never return? He +rose and paced the floor, frantic with the enforced inaction. +Schooling himself to a semblance of patience, he sat through another +long hour. + +Why, he thought dully, should he have had the presumption to expect +an answer to his cable ... she was too kind to cable "no" ... her +letter of explanation would be a month in coming.... He watched as the +mists around Apo gathered, thickened, darkened: the banks were +flashlighted into white billows, then the soft rumble of thunder +rolled down the slopes, a vanguard of the rainstorm which rustled the +forest tops as it swept down nearer, louder, to expire as it touched +the edge of the town: a few drops splashed heavily on the tin roof of +the silent house, then the stars shone more brilliantly than before +and Apo loomed sharp against a cleared sky. + +It was a long night. At last he rose wearily and seated himself at his +desk, shading his dulled eyes. A moment of indecision, and he wrote to +his sister. + + Dear Sue-sister: + + Sometimes your sweet letters breathe the fear that harm + might befall me. You need not worry. + + I live in a lovely land, a land of sunny days and balmy + nights, a land of courteous, friendly folk. + + I live in a land where pneumonia is unknown, or sunstroke: + cholera perished in boiling water, and behind our mosquito + nets we laugh at malaria. + + Should other dangers threaten, I have my company of loyal + Macabebes: laughing fighters, stern lovers, they guard me + while I sleep. They like me, I think. + + Nothing but Old Age can befall me here; and I think the + Fountain of Youth lies not where old Ponce searched--but + here, on Apo's towering crest. I am going there to search + ... some day ... before I am too old. + + I have but one fear: that you and the others whom I love may + some day cease to-- + +His head ached intolerably. He dropped his pen in sudden listlessness, +crossed aimlessly to the window. Dawn wavered over Samal. The plaza +was dark save for the lights which blazed in the cuartel to show that +the Macabebes, too, had kept the long vigil. + +Suddenly he saw four fagged little Macabebes emerge from the shadowed +street and enter the path of light which streamed from the wide +cuartel door. Shoulders drooping under heavy packs after the long +night's hike, they staggered into the building. + +A moment, and a fiercely glad yell rose from the barracks, and the +Sergeant bounded out of the doorway to speed toward Terry's house. +Terry straightened his relaxed muscles as the Sergeant burst into the +room. + +A patrol had succeeded! They had learned from Bogobos that during the +afternoon a number of unknown armed natives had gathered in the three +deserted shacks near Sears' ford. Malabanan and Sakay were riding +westward toward Sears' plantation. On the way in the patrol had +encountered Matak riding hard on Malabanan's trail! + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +INTO THE FORBIDDEN HILLS + + +Terry's two black pistols, canteen and packed saddle bags lay on the +table. Without a word he snapped holster and canteen into his belt +holes and the Sergeant picked up the bags and extra gun. As he blew +out the light Terry first realized that dawn had come. They hurried +silently to the cuartel, in front of which the sixteen impatient +Macabebes were drawn up, each equipped for the field and holding +saddled ponies. As he drank the coffee that the thoughtful Mercado had +prepared for him Terry gestured questioningly toward the ponies. + +"I knew you would want to travel fast, sir, so I borrowed these ponies +from planters. They are very angry about the ladrones, sir, and were +glad to help." He found ample reward for his foresight in Terry's +unspoken commendation. + +Several brown heads appeared at windows to stare after the little +cavalcade that trotted down the side of the plaza at daylight and took +the west trail into the brush. It was not a smart outfit, it lacked +all of the flourish and the trappings of parade, but it did look eager +to use the carbines that flapped from pommel straps. Terry's compact +gray set the pace for the dauntless men who rode behind him, and the +Sergeant brought up the rear snapping sharp-voiced invectives that +withered three over-zealous riders. + +A long trail lay before them. Terry maintained a steady trot that ate +up the miles. The day grew hot, the brush thicker. Twice he halted the +column to water the ponies at shallow fords: once he stopped to smooth +saddle blankets and resaddle. + +He felt the heat intensely. His skin seemed dry and hot, and he +slanted his campaign hat low over his eyes to dim the glare of the sun +and relieve the strain on his eyeballs, which ached fiercely. His +pony, having worked off its excess of spirit, settled down into a +tireless pace that tested the picked mounts the planters had selected +as their best, and the miles passed in silence save for staccato +pounding of hoofs on hard packed earth and the swish of underbrush +that lined the narrow crooked trail. + +At noon he drew up at Sears' plantation to freshen men and beasts. +Sears tore out to meet them, greeted Terry enthusiastically and ran +inside again to hurry his cook while Terry superintended the care of +the ponies. When Sears' foreman bore the soldiers into the cookshack +for a hot dinner of rice and fish Terry passed up the high stairway +and into the cool house, there to sink into a big chair, faint. + +Sears was energetically speeding his boy in the laying of his +"company" linens and silver. He lumbered over to Terry and in his +enthusiasm shook hands again. Feeling the hand hot to his touch, he +glanced keenly down into the burning eyes. + +"Man, you're sick! You shouldn't be out in the sun in this +condition!" + +Terry mustered a weak laugh but Sears insisted: he poured out a stiff +drink of Scotch and when Terry refused this he half wrecked his +medicine chest in search of aspirin. He found only two tablets, and +these Terry swallowed obligingly, finding almost instant relief as the +perspiration cooled his parched skin. + +Sears' anxious hospitality suffered during lunch as despite a brave +show of appetite Terry ate nothing, but briefly outlined the situation +that was taking him into the foothills. + +"So they are coming this way?" Sears exclaimed. "I hadn't heard it yet +but I knew something was up. Last night some Bogobos--they are fine to +me since you--since I--" he floundered a moment, "I mean they're fine +to me. Well, anyway, last night they came to tell me that two strange +natives, both armed, had ridden past here toward the foothills: didn't +know who the pair were--you may, though, as they described one as +havin' a white eye." + +Terry nodded: "That is Malabanan, Sears." + +Sears whistled: "Pwhew! I am gettin' some likely neighbors--probably +the other was his side-kicker, that laughin' devil of a Sakay! Well, +anyway, that's not all, Lieutenant. About two hours ago my foreman saw +your Moro boy, Matak. He was ridin' that black pony of yours and +stopped to ask my foreman if he had seen two natives ridin' by, +describin' Malabanan. Then he beat it after 'em." + +Terry was watching through the open window and when he saw his men +emerge from the shack he rose apologetically, listening attentively +while Sears told him the best trail to the three abandoned shacks +that Terry sought. Sears, distressed in the helpless way of physically +big men, detained him while he refilled his canteen with fresh water +and sought Terry's habits long enough to again try to press a Scotch +upon him. + +"Sears, that aspirin fixed me up. I wish you would give me a couple +more of those tablets." + +Further search proved fruitless, he had no more. He turned to Terry +with a sorrow out of all proportion to the situation. + +"Lieutenant, I haven't got any more. But here's some quinine--take a +few grains every few hours--it may help you." + +Terry thrust the vial of capsules into his shirt pocket and after +thanking Sears hastened outside to where his men were tightening +girths under the watchful Sergeant's eye. Sears hovered over Terry, +offering advice, expostulating, as Terry mounted and gathered rein. + +"Lieutenant," he said, "you know the ford is just above the pool they +call the 'Crocodile Hole.' Cross the ford, come back along the bank, +and you'll find a trail leadin' to the three shacks in the woods." + +"I know, Sears. Thanks. Good-by." + +"_Adios_," Sears called. Then he stood watching the little band trot +through the gate and into the woods. His eyes moistened, he raised his +big fist against an invisible foe. + +"If they get him--" he muttered through lips that trembled unashamed, +"if they get that boy--that sick boy, I'll--I'll--we'll ... and I +didn't have any medicine for him--the only thing he ever asked me +for--or ever asked anybody for!" + + * * * * * + +For the first time Terry urged the gray. Matak over two hours ahead of +him and mounted on the next best pony in the Gulf ... Malabanan hours +ahead of Matak, riding toward the Ledesma girl held for him in one of +the three shacks.... He pushed the pony hard across the open +clearings, recklessly forced him through the underbrush that in +frequent areas obliterated the trail. They were now well inland and +mounting a perceptible grade toward the foothills: the sluggish stream +they had paralleled all day ran swift here. Once, where the trail +twisted near the bank, they heard the rush of rapids, and a mile +farther on they came in sight of a curiously soundless waterfull. They +had reached the Bogobo country but the afternoon quiet was unbroken by +the sound of agongs. Fear had reached the foothills. + +His pony was too much for the courageous but smaller mounts of the +Macabebes and Terry gradually drew ahead. He must overtake Malabanan +before nightfall.... Ledesma had not put his confidence into words, +but he had looked it--had trusted him ... the pony's head and neck +dripped, a welt of lather fringed the saddle blanket over the withers +and down both shoulders. The Sergeant, seeing his men fall behind, +galloped up into the lead and cursed them on with graphic phrases +culled from the English, Spanish and Malay tongues. But it was +useless: the gray pony carried its desperately anxious rider faster +than their jaded mounts could travel. Terry drew out of sight, but +they rode on. + +All through the afternoon Terry had been dimly conscious that the +headache had returned, that his face was flushed and hot, but the fast +pumping blood seemed to energize his faculties. Never had he felt so +keyed-up, so sinewy of nerve. + +The hours flew with the miles. At five o'clock he crashed out of the +woods into an open spot where the trail bent down toward the river to +skirt a deep black pool--the Bogobos' Crocodile Hole, which none of +them would ever approach. It was a roughly circular depression +extending from bank to bank, a hundred feet in diameter; it lay just +below the ledge of rock that made a low-water ford but which, at high +water, was the brink of a falls which had worn a deep hole in the soft +river bottom. + +Terry slowed his steaming pony as he rounded the pool. Stories that he +had overheard flashed across his mind, ghastly stories whispered by +tremulous native lips into credulous brown ears, of the size of the +Thing which dwelt here, of its age, its incredible scaly length and +girth, its patient devilish cunning; of the toll it had taken of three +generations, tales you would not care to hear--like that of the old +blind Bogobo who lost his way, and groping for the trail with naked +hands--no, you would not care to hear such appalling tales. + +Riding the river ledge above the pool he glanced down into the deep, +quiet waters but his thoughts snapped back to the present as his pony +balked at the edge of the ford. The gray had never balked at water, +and attributing the display of vice to fatigue, he tried to gentle him +into the shallow water, then touched him with spur--minutes were +precious now. Driven by the steel, the gray stepped gingerly into the +stream, took several steps, then snorted as he wheeled back to the +bank. Terry swung him back sharply and sent the spur deep into the +flanks of the trembling beast: half wild with the unaccustomed +punishment he dashed into the water and splashed across in frightened +bounds that took him up the opposite bank into the brush. + +Terry brought the pony round and stroked its neck soothingly to calm +the unaccountable terror apparent in the nervous tossing of head and +distension of red nostrils. As he guided him along the bank a sound of +disturbed water brought Terry's head up sharply: heavy ripples circled +away from a spot near the opposite shore just under the ford. As he +peered keenly he discerned the indistinct outline of something that +looked like a heavy log sink slowly into the dark depths. The pony +fretted until they left the river-bank to follow an old trail that led +into the woods. + +Here Terry held him to a walk, riding cautiously, pausing at each turn +of the trail to scrutinize every inch of brush intently, ears alert to +faintest sound. He knew he was nearing the deserted huts. He advanced +several hundred yards thus, searching for the clearing, listening. +Discerning well ahead a space where the sky was open above a cleared +area he dismounted, hurriedly knotted the reins to a sapling, snatched +his extra pistol from the saddle holster, then crept forward through +the early forest twilight, wary, both pistols at full cock. + +Creeping round the first bend in the trail he searched the near +thickets with penetrating keenness: he knew Malay treachery. His eyes, +flashing from side to side, focussed upon a dim, motionless figure +outlined in the shadow beneath the trunk of a large tree that stood on +the edge of the clearing. His back was to Terry and he seemed +engrossed in some silent drama that was being enacted in the clearing +out of Terry's field of vision. + +Terry crept toward him soundlessly and when he had covered half of the +distance that separated them he was overjoyed to recognize him as +Matak. As Terry's lips parted in a low call, Matak glided from the +tree like a swift shadow just as a shriek of pain and terror rent the +silence of the woods, followed by a vowelled curse and the sound of a +heavy hand on naked flesh. + +As Terry sprang forward to the edge of the clearing he heard behind +him the distant sound of ponies driven recklessly through the +underbrush, and knew that the Macabebes were coming up! + +He halted at the edge of the clearing, unobserved by the crowd of +bandits who had sprung out of the three disused huts when Matak leaped +into the open: with ready rifles and bolos they awaited the command of +their white-eyed leader, who stood in front of them, startled, but +coolly confronting the Moro. Ledesma's daughter, who had fallen under +Malabanan's heavy blow, staggered to her feet and ran blindly into +the arms of a laughing rough whom Terry recognized as Malabanan's +companion at the dock--the sardonic Sakay. + +For a moment the tableau held. Terry could not see Matak's face but he +heard the tense fury of the voice: + +"Malabanan, you speak English?" + +Malabanan looked him over insolently before answering: "Yes." + +Moro met Tagalog in the Bogobo's country on the common ground of the +American-brought English tongue! + +"Malabanan, you know me?" + +"No." + +"You remember one night--nine years now--on Basilan? You remember kill +old man, old woman, then girl on boat? You remember kill little boy, +too, and throw in sea?" + +The Moro's voice dripped with the released passions of nine years of +brooding over terrible wrongs. As he saw the light of recollection +appear in the desperado's dark face, he struggled to speak the words +that had been dammed up so long: + +"Malabanan, I am that boy.... Now you die!" + +He snatched the long knife from the scarf knotted about his waist in +Moro fashion, his knees bending under him in a tigerish crouch as he +slowly circled toward his powerful enemy. Malabanan drew his great +bolo with a contemptuous sneer at the little Moro and before Terry +could have interfered had he wished, they leaped at each other. Matak +dodged down under the first awful sweep of the gleaming bolo and as +he came up he struck at Malabanan, not with the classic downward +stroke, but UP! + +As the glittering blade went home, deep, Malabanan threw the Moro from +him with a convulsive heave that crashed him senseless against the +stump of a charred tree. His colorless left eye, lusterless in strange +contrast to the baleful fire that glowed in the right, Malabanan +gathered his fast ebbing strength in a last effort and staggered +toward the unconscious Moro, his glittering weapon upraised, heedless +of the pale American who stepped out with a rasping: "Halt!" + +But he sank limp as Terry's heavy pistol roared a message he did +heed--though never heard--sagging down to sprawl across the Moro's +legs. + +Terry leaped full into the clearing and covered the ladrones, who +stood paralyzed by the swiftness of the tragedy, stunned by the +dramatic appearance of the young American whose pistols were famed +throughout the Gulf, and as they hesitated the Macabebes smashed out +of the fringe of timber, threw themselves off their reeking ponies and +moved to surround the band. + +Sakay, supporting the girl as a screen, drew back toward the nearest +of the huts and opened fire at Terry with a rifle. The ladrones +scattered for cover and in a minute the woods rang with their +fusillade and with the deadly volleys sent in answer by the Macabebes. + +It was a brief combat. Though outnumbered nearly two to one the +soldiers were disciplined and highly trained marksmen. In a moment six +of the bandits were on the ground, nine threw up their hands in +surrender and the balance fled through the woods. The Sergeant, who +had been slugging away with his rifle with a calculating attention to +the details of marksmanship belied by the fierce joy in his brilliant +black eyes, ceased firing at Terry's shouted command and detached +eight of his man, who caught up some frightened ponies and raced +through the woods to head off the fleeing brigands. + +Sakay, using the fear-crazed girl as a shield from behind which to +shoot at Terry, found his aim thwarted by her struggles. Seeing Terry +advancing straight upon him and fearful of exposing himself to the +fire of the two black pistols, he dropped his rifle and holding the +girl directly in front of him, called out in English: + +"I surrender! I surrender! I surrender, Lieutenant!" + +His deep anxiety subsiding when he realized that he would suffer no +immediate harm, Sakay threw the girl from him with a brutal force that +sent her prostrate and was promptly rewarded by the husky Mercado, who +had been under American tutelage long enough to understand the virtue +and the technique of what is vulgarly known as "a good swift kick." + +The Sergeant escorted Sakay into the group of prisoners rounded up by +the four soldiers and set them to digging a grave for the six, who, +with Malabanan, would "never appear before the court." In a few +minutes the pursuit party rode into the clearing herding all but three +of the criminals who had fled: those three were carried in and placed +alongside the grave. + +Terry worked over Matak, who had been merely stunned. In a few minutes +the Moro recovered fully and went back to secure Terry's pony, which +he had abandoned near the ford. + +While the Sergeant attended to the duties of identification and burial +of the dead Terry led the girl into one of the huts and quietly +comforted her. She told him of the ordeal of her forced journey +through the greater part of a day and a night, of the captors who +leered at her but remained aloof because of fear of Malabanan, of +being waked from sleep at Malabanan's arrival just before Matak +appeared. Malabanan and Sakay, worn with the night's ride, had stopped +during the noon hours to rest in the woods. + +When it came time to go, Terry placed the girl on his pony, declining +another mount, as his head now ached too fiercely to withstand jolting +in the saddle. He set off in the lead, afoot, followed by the +prisoners under escort, Mercado bringing up the rear with the girl. + +As they neared the ford Terry heard a sharp out-cry from one of the +guards, followed by the sharp crack of a rifle. Whirling, he saw the +brush on his right agitated by the movements of a figure that crashed +unseen through the tangle of vegetation. Two soldiers flung themselves +off their ponies and leaped in pursuit, pausing fruitlessly for sight +of the fleeing form and dashing on with trailed rifles. The aggressive +Mercado galloped up, shouting an explanatory "Sakay!" as he charged +straight into the brush. + +Terry sped down the trail toward the river, emerging on the bank just +as the lithe Sakay burst from the brush. Laughing derisively at Terry +Sakay leaped toward the stream, reached the bank in four great bounds +and leaped far out from the low edge. As the bandit's powerful body +curved in the air Terry's pistol barked twice before the supple form +straightened to strike the pool in a perfect dive. + +Terry leaped down the bank to cover Sakay when he should rise. Leaning +over the ledge he distinguished the white-clad figure sliding +gracefully through the dark depths with the momentum of the dive: ten +feet, twenty, thirty, then it slowed, started to rise. + +But as he watched, tense ... there was a rush of a massive armored +body through the shadowed depths, a great scaly thing swirled the +limpid pool, a flash of hideous teeth--and the white form was gone. + +Spellbound with the unutterable horror of what he had seen, Terry +watched the waters become quiet again, but turned away, aghast, when +bubbles rose like tiny silver globes against the jet depths. When he +turned back there were no more bubbles. + +He sank down on the bank, sickened. The Macabebes had come up with +their meek prisoners and waited at the ford, restless, their eyes +fixed on the oily pool. Even Mercado was anxious to be gone. +Unaffected by the terrible fate of the bandit he had hunted, he viewed +the approach of sunset with vague concern, for this was the nearest +that he had ever been to the edge of the Hill Country. + +Terry strove to rise, and at last realized that he was ill. He sank +back, dazed with the sudden force of a fever that coursed through his +body achingly, that throbbed in his head with a tumultuous roar. He +tried again, but fell back, dizzy. He rested till his head cleared, +then sat up and called Mercado to him. His voice came weak. + +"Sergeant," he explained, "I do not feel--like going in to-night. You +push on--rest at Sears' to-night. Keep the prisoners in his corral +under guard. He will look after Senorita Ledesma and the men. Tell him +that I request that he come here and dynamite this pool--thoroughly. +Push on to Davao next morning and send for Ledesma to get his +daughter; and if I am not there by that time, you send a brief report +of this affair to Zamboanga. Understand?" + +"Yes, sir, but you look sick, sir!" A quick concern flooded the +Macabebe's heavy face. + +"Yes--I do not feel--very well. I am going to cut across country to +get to Doctor Merchant tonight. It is only six miles straight through +the woods." + +The Macabebe led his charges across the ford, then, worried, returned +to Terry's side. Reassured somewhat by the brave smile, he mounted +after receiving a final injunction to take Matak in with him if they +overtook him. As the Macabebes herded their cowed prisoners into the +woods across from where he lay, Terry lay prone in another of the +intermittent surges of mounting fever that robbed him of his strength +and faculties. + +When the wave of fever subsided he rose weakly, took his bearings by +the low sun and crossing the ford struck straight into the woods in +the direction he knew Dalag to lie. Entrance into the deep woods +brought instant twilight. He had covered a mile when a resurgent tide +of fever brought him down on the thick carpet of dead leaves that +covered the darkening forest floor, and for several minutes he lay +gripped in the sickening spasm that rioted through his veins and +robbed him of all reason. When it passed he rose dizzily to stumble on +under the trees, which reached up toward a sky glorious with the +flaming reds and deep pinks that mark the passing of a hot day over +the Celebes Sea. + +He staggered on, conscious only of the necessity of getting to the +doctor and of the agonizing explosions in his head which threatened to +rend his skull asunder at each jarring footfall. The sky grayed, +darkened. Dusk found him a short quarter-mile further on, where +another surge of raging temperature brought him low. Another followed +swiftly. When he rose at last, night had wrapped the thick woods in +its black mantle, and he was no longer conscious of direction, or of +purpose, or of self. He stumbled along dazedly, trying to recall the +purpose that had taken him into the woods. + +The paroxysms passed. The fever had reached a consistent high level, +lending him a singular buoyancy of body and of spirit, but his reason +was gone. He walked faster and faster, his vision keen under the dark +canopy, his mind racing with disordered ideas, a kaleidoscope of long +displaced memories. Often he stopped short, puzzled, vainly striving +to stem the fugitive currents of conceits in his efforts to remember +what purpose had brought him here. His head throbbed. He kept step +with each pulsing ache--it seemed to help. He hurried on through the +night. + +The way grew steeper, always he traveled up the ascent. Flooded with +the hot energy that swept through his arteries, each passing hour +seemed to add to the fires that fed his strength. + +The gray beams of early dawn, filtering through a now taller vault of +forest, found him far up the slope and mounting still steeper grades. +He could not quite remember what his mission was ... something that +the Governor wanted, he thought, something he, too, wanted to do ... +or was it a Christmas present for Deane.... + +He climbed higher, laughing, singing, talking loudly. Stumbling over a +log his burning eyes had not seen, he turned in grotesque humor to +offer curtsy and abject apology, then hastened on upward. Later, +carroming from a huge tree he had hit head on, he addressed it in +grave good humor: "Please keep to the right." His flushed face purple +in the green light of the deep woods, he hurried on, again worrying +over the nature of his forgotten mission and hysterically impressed +with its importance. + +The sun rose high overhead but it was twilight in the deep forest +through which he clambered, over decayed logs, through rank +overgrowth, past little streams of filthy water flowing in sullen +silence through channels overgrown with moss. No sounds of forest life +challenged the vast silence of the damp and cheerless vault of green, +no song of bird or shrill thrumming of insects that makes the tropical +forest a palpitant discordance during the hot hours of the day. + +His laughter rang mockingly through the shadowed silence, the loud +vagaries of his delirium carried far tinder the overhang of tunneled +foliage. + +"It's all right, Sears ... poor little fox, you won't ... you need not +worry about me, Doctor ... on Sunday, too--snowshoes and all.... LOOK +OUT MAJOR!... and we need you here, Dick,--Ellis and Susan, Father +Jennings, the foreigners--all of us...." + +Always he kept his face turned toward the heights, and climbed. The +afternoon, waning, found him groping slowly upward, the furious energy +of his fever wearing off. His voice was weaker but he babbled +unceasingly, through dry lips parted in set fever-grin. + +"I hope I did not miss, Sakay. I hope I did not miss.... 'Imagine +bristly Berkshire swine upon the throne of Coeur de Lion!'--and if +they make a break, SMASH 'EM!... Don't wait, Deane, don't wait." + +Unaware of the ill omened forms which, surrounding him while still the +sun was high overhead, had kept apace all afternoon with his +slackening gait, he halted under a huge tree, leaning against the +trunk in sudden weariness. His voice, weak, tremulous, carried to an +audience he could not see: + + Just to know that years so fair might come again, + Awhile ... + + Oh! To thrill again to your dear voice-- + Your smile.... + +At the end of the song his hoarse laughter rasped through, the woods. +He sank down, tried to rise, then lay where he had fallen beneath the +great tree. He lay still while the last white rays of the dying sun +faded from the topmost leaves far overhead, heedless of the narrowing +circle of eyes which flashed in the dusk. + +Then, as he weakly pressed a hot hand against his scalding eyes in a +gesture of pain that was infinitely pathetic, the Hill People closed +in. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE MAJOR FOLLOWS + + +The big wall fan, a new symbol of the progress of the American +undertaking, oscillated in jumpy turns that rustled the papers on the +polished desk. Major Bronner sat staring at the maps which covered the +walls of his office. His heavily tanned face bore new lines, worry and +grief and there was a new set to the heavy jaw. + +Rising with sudden determination he hurried down the corridor into the +Governor's office and faced Governor Mason with the strained aspect of +a strong man sorely beset. The Governor gravely studied the eyes that +bored beseechingly into his own, then reached into one of his desk +baskets and lifted a stiff paper. + +"Major," he said slowly, "here is Lieutenant Terry's promotion. They +forwarded it immediately after receipt of my telegraphed report of his +prompt action against Malabanan's brigands." As the Major did not take +it but continued to regard him steadily out of brooding eyes, the +Governor returned the commission to the basket and fell to drumming +his desk. + +He broke the long silence: "Major, you really think you should go?" It +was hardly a question. + +"Governor, I must go!" + +The older man studied his inkwell: "Major, it was over three weeks ago +that Sergeant Mercado sent you his report: it seems rather--rather--" +he was loath, to say it--"rather hopeless." + +He remained in contemplation of his uninspiring inkwell for a long +minute then delved into his basket for a letter received that morning +from the Lieutenant Governor of Davao, a letter he had read many +times. He scanned it again. + +"Major, Terry has been missing over three weeks, was ill when he was +last seen. It seems certain that he either succumbed to fever or +else--you know he entered the woods right at the edge of the Hill +Country, and if he strayed off his course he is almost certainly--" + +Bronner broke in upon him, frantically unwilling to hear the word +spoken. He was furious in his grief. + +"Yes, they wait three weeks before reporting his disappearance--the +best officer in the Service--sick--alone in the woods!--no rations, +no--nothing, except a canteen and a pistol! If I were governor I'd +fire the whole damned crew down there!" + +The Governor regarded him with wise patience till he choked into +silence. "No, Major. There was no fault. The Sergeant reported in +Davao that Terry had gone to Dalag to see the doctor, so it was not +until Merchant finished his work there that they learned from him that +Terry had not reached him. It was no fault of any one, Major; just +hard, hard luck. Now, I have been thinking over your request to go in +search of Terry's--in search of Terry, and I have decided. The +despatch boat is now at the wharf subject to your orders. She makes +something over twenty knots." + +"Governor, I'm--I appreciate your--Governor, it means a good deal to +me!" + +"I will not detain you, Major. You do as you find best when you reach +Davao. Pacify the planters first--this report says that they are wild +with grief and rage. Of course you will take temporary command of +Terry's Macabebes. The entire company is there now and with them you +could doubtless smash your way up into the Hills. I had other hopes, +hopes of winning them peaceably--hopes in which Terry figured.... +Well, I know you are anxious--so run along." + +He rose and came around the big desk to take the Major's hand in a +fatherly farewell. After the Major had torn out of the room the +Governor closed the door and stood at the window looking out over the +busy Straits, his face older, stripped of the optimism with which he +invariably confronted all of these young men who were associated with +him in the Moro task. Sometimes it all seemed so hopeless, so futile. + +For a long time the Governor stood at the window. He was facing +westward toward India, that mystic ever-ever land that had been the +goal of all the nations since before Columbus and was finally won by +the steady strength and genius of a meager island people. But its +cost--its cost in fair-haired, ruddy-cheeked youth! As in other +matters of government we had learned colonization at Mother England's +knee, had sought to apply her precepts, to avoid her mistakes: but +there was no avoiding that penalty, that expenditure of young men. +Quotations from the interpreter of the white man's burden came to his +lips: "'_The deaths ye have died I have watched beside._'" He +whispered the line over and over again. + +He was still gazing somberly over the wide waters when Bronner rushed +down the pier below him and leaped into the cockpit of the power boat. +An orderly followed on the run and dumped the Major's luggage into the +boat. A Moro cast off the restraining hauser and the snowy hull leaped +forward, nose high in the air. When it reached a point opposite where +the Governor stood its stern was buried deep by the terrific thrash of +the screw, and borne on the swift ebb tide it streaked out of sight +into the west, like a thing alive. The Major was off--the Constabulary +guards its own. When one falls, others search, and bury, and avenge. + + * * * * * + +The Major settled on the stern seat for the long ride. He had his +thoughts, thoughts that set his jaws till they ached. The motors +roared as they coursed through a shifting panorama of islands, little +heavens of cool verdure as seen from the power boat which rode low, +rising and falling gently in the smooth swells which ribbed the +Celebes from horizon to horizon. From the low seaboard they looked +back upon a thin trail of white dashes which marked the wake their +speed had traced upon the tops of the oily undulations. Adams, the +mechanician, a slim, clean-cut young fellow, scarce glanced at Bronner +through the passing hours but hovered over his engines, absorbed in +their operation. + +The night passed, and the day was nearly done as they shot up to the +little wooden dock at Davao with a grinding of gears in reverse. +Adams silenced the motors, then turned in stiff fatigue to the Major +with an expression that transfigured his greasy features. + +"Major, I've broken the record for this run by four hours. Now it's up +to you!" + +"You know, then, why I'm--" + +"Yes, I know. And I knew Terry--in Sorsogon Province. I was down and +out, a beachcomber,--booze. And he was kind to me, when I needed +kindness.... It's up to you, Bronner." + +The Major stepped up on the dock, unsteady of limb after the night and +day, his ears roaring from the long punishment. Stamping the length of +the dock to regain his land legs, he returned to meet Doctor Merchant, +who had hastened down to the dock. His heavy hurry had glittered him +with a profuse perspiration that coursed down over his exposed skin +areas, and he wiped his hands and wrists with a big bandana before +shaking hands with the Major. His entire mien bespoke anxiety. + +"We expected you, Major--though not so soon. You know all about--about +it?" + +The Major nodded: "The Governor showed me Whipple's letter." + +"Well, that's about all we know here. Terry was sick when he went +after Malabanan's outfit--he never should have gone. And after doing +that job--and it was SOME job, believe me!--he started cross country +to see me--knew he was sick. It was over two weeks later that I +finished and came in--and when I arrived without him there was a +regular riot!" + +He wiped his face and neck: "Major, I'll never forgive myself for +exposing him to that fever--but I couldn't do a thing till he +came--they would do nothing I told them. Do you know how it was he +caught it?" He was at once mournful and enraged. "Gave his mosquito +net to the chief's wife because she was 'soon to become a mother,' as +he put it: and right after he rode away I found she had cut the net +into four big pieces and was using them for _towels_! Yes, sir! For +towels!" + +He wiped away with the bandana, thinking that thus he concealed his +emotions. + +"Major, you've got your work cut out--a bunch of the planters are in +town this afternoon, planning a raid into the Hills. Lindsey and Sears +are the wildest--the whole bunch will get wiped out if they set foot +in the Hills! You had better see them right away--and you'll have your +hands full--they're mighty determined." + +He paused, fretting, then turned his big bulk with surprising +swiftness: "Well--say something! What are you going to do about this? +Going to clean out the Hills? Or are you going to let--" he stormed on +and on, checking the flow at last to press his hospitality upon the +Major. + +"Thanks, Medico, but I'll just sling my bag in Terry's house and sleep +there to-night: and I can eat at the Club." + +The doctor accompanied him as far as Terry's old quarters and passed +on to his own house farther down the street. Matak, gloomy and +wordless, relieved the Major of his bag at the door. The house was +silent, and darkened by drawn pearl-shell shutters. The Major stood a +moment at the doorway, half sickened by the unused appearance of the +familiar cane chairs, table, desk, and bookcases, then he followed +Matak into the bedroom he had used before. He cleaned up and changed +to whites, and when he came out Matak had thrown the windows wide to +the afternoon sun. But the house was thick with the uncomfortable +silence that pervades unused, furnished habitations and unable to +endure the room he hurried out and over to the _cuartel_. + +The fiery little Macabebes seemed subdued. Mercado blamed himself for +leaving his officer under the circumstances, was bitterly +self-reproachful for not having sent a soldier with him. He went over +the ground carefully but could add nothing but immaterial detail to +what the Major already knew, but the Major remained in the little +office until dark, listening with grim satisfaction to Mercado's +account of the swift retribution that had followed Malabanan's testing +of Constabulary strength. + +He excused the Sergeant and sifted through the pile of official and +personal mail which lay in the basket marked "unfinished." Sorting it, +he came across a cablegram addressed to Terry and dated the morning +that Terry had left in pursuit of the brigands. + +"From the States, too," he muttered. Moved by an impulse and hardly +conscious of what he did, he folded it twice and placed it in his +purse. + +In half an hour he had finished the few reports that must be executed, +and rose to go. Mercado was waiting for him at the door. + +"Sir," he said, standing stiffly at attention and watched by a score +of Macabebes who knew his intention to draw the Major out, "we +Macabebes are soldiers, sir--we never question. But if the Major comes +to lead troops up--there, sir, to bury our Lieutenant, it is a +Macabebe task! We loved him, sir." + +The big Major looked down at the earnest veteran, touched by the +dramatic simplicity of his appeal. + +"Sergeant," he said, "if I do lead a force up there your Macabebes +will be where they belong--at the front of the column!" + +He took the grateful salute and passing out between two rigid lines of +the stalwart little men he crossed the plaza to the Club. + +Entering, he noted the unusual number of Stetsons that hung on the +hatrack, and passing inside, saw that the steward was guarding a score +of rifles and revolvers. For a moment he stood unnoticed by the groups +of determined men who occupied the round dining tables in parties of +four and five. Selecting the table occupied by Lindsey, he went in. + +He felt the tension of the room increase as he entered. All looked up +with friendly word or nod, but from the manner in which they eyed him +and each other he knew that his coming and his purpose had been the +subject of their conversations. He sat down with Lindsey and his two +companions. One of these, O'Rourke, had been the pioneer hemp planter +and now enjoyed a big income; the other, a nervous, hasty young fellow +named Boynton, had borne a reputation as a squawman that had deprived +him of intimacy with his own kind, but had recently put his house in +order and rehabilitated himself with those who found decency in clean +living. + +In an effort to relieve the atmosphere of constraint the three +planters attempted conversation, but it fell dead, and each applied +himself to his dinner. The Major's eyes roved over the crowded room, +then bored Lindsey's. + +"This is the biggest crowd I ever saw in the Club," he suggested, +tentatively. + +All understood the question in his words, but none answered. Suddenly +Boynton flushed with the hot rush of temper to which he was subject. + +"Yes," he exclaimed defiantly, "and it's a good crowd, too! A crowd +that's got guts! We're going to have a look at those Hills!" + +Lindsey had tried to stop him, but nothing could halt the impetuous +Boynton. O'Rourke snorted disgustedly: "Lave it to Bhoynton to shpill +the banes!" + +With Boynton's outburst the Major tightened. These determined men were +hard to handle. He glanced around the room into the faces turned +toward him: Boynton's tense voice had carried throughout the room and +all of the planters had twisted about in their chairs to face him. +They knew the showdown was at hand, were ready to support Boynton's +declaration of their purpose. + +The Major turned to Boynton: "You aim to leave forty or fifty more +good Americans to rot in the Hills?" + +Boynton fully realizing that the Major was addressing the crowd +through him, and feeling their support, spoke more coolly: "Well, +Major, we're ready to chance that!" + +The Major continued, more slowly: "What could fifty men--even such +good men as this fifty would be--do against the Hill People? And how +would they find their way to them? And how would they overcome enemies +they could not find or see, enemies who blow darts that just prick the +skin but bring almost instant death? And if you did reach them, and +kill a large number of them--what would it avail Terry?" + +Pausing long enough for this to sink into their minds, he continued +more sternly: "And furthermore and more important, how could such a +force, organized out of worthy motives but nevertheless engaged in an +unlawful enterprise, hope to even reach the Hill Country--knowing that +they would have to first fight their way through a hundred of the best +Macabebe riflemen in the Islands ... with me leading the Macabebes." + +No one stirred. They knew the Major. This was no threat, no boast, he +had merely stated a fixed purpose. This was Constabulary business, +would be handled by Constabulary. + +"Snap" Hoffman, a husky, keen-eyed youth who enjoyed the unique +reputation of being the best poker player and the hardest worker in +the Gulf, spoke coldly from an adjoining table. + +"Bronner, maybe your Macabebes wouldn't fight against people going up +to square things for the officer they lost--I guess you don't know +what they thought of him! But forgetting that part of it--what we +want to know is, what are you going to do about reaching out for him, +or for those who 'got' him?" + +The hissing of the acetylene burners sounded loud in the room during +the pause in which the sunburned planters waited the Major's answer. +He spoke to Hoffman, without resentment. + +"'Snap,' I had plenty of time to think it all out, on the way down +here. There is just one way to find out about Terry: I am starting +into the Hills to-morrow at daylight." + +"With the Macabebes?" Hoffman retained the spokesmanship. + +The Major slowly shook his head. The powerful lights glinted upon the +brass buttons of his uniform and etched the deep lines in the heavily +tanned face. + +"No," he said. "The Governor has given me a free hand in this, as it +is a Constabulary job--we look after our own. You all know, as well as +I, what it would mean to force our way in. We would get in eventually, +but in addition to leaving too many good men in the everlasting shade +of the forest, we would defeat our own ends. For if he is still living +they would surely finish him if we undertook a punitive expedition. + +"I have laid my plans on my absolute confidence that he is living. I +know he is, somehow. So I am starting up after him in the morning ... +alone." + +Consternation was written upon every face excepting Lindsey's, who had +understood the Major's purpose from the moment he curbed Boynton. +Amazement altered to admiration, then to uneasy forebodings. The Major +watched them as they whispered to each other and as he read their +acceptance of his plans he turned to his cold dinner. + +The planters found relief in following suit. The stewards returned to +the care of the tables. Cigars, the best from Luzon's northern fields, +followed Benguet coffee and when champagne glasses appeared at each +plate in indication of some diner's birthday or other happy occasion, +the planters searched each others' faces to identify the celebrant. As +the Chino withdrew after filling the glasses Lindsey rose, glass in +hand, speaking with his characteristic sincerity and with an easy +grace that belied his rough planter's garb. + +"Gentlemen, I propose an absent friend ... a friend of all of us. One +who has meant much to all of us, has done much for many of us, has +harmed none by careless deed or word or thought: one who knows the +high places but realizes that life is lived on level planes. +Gentlemen"--he lifted his glass high--"to the--HEALTH--of Lieutenant +Richard Terry, P. C." + +A swift scraping of feet and of chairs pushed back and they all stood +in mute acclaim of Lindsey's sentiments, subscribed with him to the +Major's refusal to believe that ill had befallen him whom they had +assembled to avenge. Seated again they watched Lindsey, who remained +standing while the Chino refilled the glasses. Lindsey spoke again. + +"I ask you now to pledge the only man I know whose bravery, sincerity +and friendship are of a quality to fit him to be the chief of him to +whom it was just now our honor to do honor. + +"Gentlemen ... Major John Bronner, P. C.!" + +The response was a thrilling tribute to the flushed officer who +remained seated until the clamor had subsided, then bowed his +embarrassed gratitude. + +They crowded around him as he rose to go, each offering advice and +warnings, wringing his big hand. Boynton drew him a little aside. + +"Major," he said earnestly, "I hope you find him--all right--not--not +hurt. He was fine to me--I came near making an awful mistake--about a +native woman. But he came to me and talked me out of it--spent the +night with me, talking about his mother ... she died when he was a +little shaver ... and he talked about clean living, and the duty of +carrying on your white blood unpolluted. He didn't preach--just talked +sense, and was awfully--friendly. I quit the dame cold!" + +Gripping Bronner's hand, Boynton left the room. Lindsey accompanied +the Major to the door and into the reading room, pointing to the +placard tacked up under the skin of the python. + +"You remember the wording of the first sign? 'Major Bronner owes his +life to the wonderful pistol marksmanship of his friend, Lieut. +Richard Terry, P. C.' He was here the night that Malabanan broke +loose--you will hear about that night of his in the Club--and the next +day we found that he had changed the placard. Look." + +He pulled the Major over and they read: + + This python, the largest but one measured since American + occupation, was killed on the plantation of Mr. Eric + Lindsey. + + Length...................24 ft., 9 inches + Diameter, thickest..............14 inches + +"We didn't see him do it, but we knew he must have been the one who +changed it. As that's the way he wanted it, we can't change it--now." + +Grief shadowed his earnest countenance again as he faced the Major: +"Don't you think that in view of my friendship for him--and for +you--that I am entitled to go up with you?" + +"No, that's all settled, Lindsey." + +The Major passed out, but pausing on the dark walk in front of the +building to relight his cigar, he heard Lindsey outlining plans for +the campaign the planters would undertake if the Major had not +returned at the end of two weeks. + + * * * * * + +In the early morning he made a light pack of rations and the beads, +matches and red calico he had secured to use as presents in case he +won through to the Hill People. He dressed for the field in khaki, +filled an extra canteen and after breakfast mounted Terry's big gray +pony and rode off with Mercado, whom he took to guide him to the spot +where Terry was last seen. The Macabebe took the lead and pressed by +the urgent white man lathered his pony in the rapid pace he set +through the winding trail. They dismounted at the ford shortly before +sunset. + +While the Major was transferring his pack from saddle to shoulders the +Macabebe explored the pool with distrustful eyes. But Sears had done +his work thoroughly: two cases of dynamite had blown in the banks and +created a new channel through which the water flowed swiftly. The pool +had been narrowed by half and shallowed to a depth of ten feet in the +series of explosions Sears had detonated until the river gave up the +rent carcass of the monstrous reptile. + +The Major adjusted the pack to his liking, waved farewell to the +Macabebe and moved toward the fringe of woods with a swinging stride. +The soldier watched the receding figure with mingled admiration and +awe. The Malay stood irresolute as the white man's head and shoulders +passed from view under the low hanging branches, watched the pendulous +khaki legs swing rhythmically into the shadows of the forest and out +of vision, then cast one long look up over the dense roof of the +forest which swept far up to end at Apo's summit, and atremble with +the appalling memories of the lonely spot he mounted the gray and led +his own exhausted pony along the edge of the pool. Once he glanced +back apprehensively as a small Bogobo agong sounded somewhere to the +north and filled the woods with its deep and mournful tones, then +hurried on homewards. + +The Major had headed due west, straight toward the summit of the +mountain. He walked on through the last hour of the afternoon and as +the woods became denser and darker he used the slope of the forest +floor as his point, always facing in the direction of the rising +ascent. He made good time, as here the going was little obstructed by +creepers or thorned "wait-a-minute." Alert, he studied every sound of +the forest life, for though he had placed his life on the knees of the +gods he valued it too highly to neglect any slightest precaution. +Inside his shirt there bulged a heavy 45 slung from a leather +breast-holster. This lone attempt of the Hills was no sudden +inspiration; he had planned it logically. There was no other way. Up +there, somewhere, lay or lived his friend. Friendship was the call, +friendship and ... The Service. + +The sun, glinting fitfully through openings in the thatching of +sparkling green leaves, dropped lower and sank from sight, and before +the brief twilight faded he selected a spot beneath a great mango tree +as his first camping place. Gathering some dry twigs and dead boughs +he built a fire at the edge of a little stream and ate sparingly of +his store of beans, chocolate and tinned sausages. In his collapsible +pan he heated water and dissolved his coffee crystals, and the coffee +finished, he boiled more water with which he filled his canteens and +hung them on a branch after dipping the woolen jackets into the creek +to secure the coolness of evaporation. + +Night fell black in the forest. He threw more brush on the fire to +enlarge the circle of light, and made himself a comfortable couch by +patiently stripping the small branches of their most leafy twigs, and +wrapped himself in his blanket, vainly hoping that sleep would come. + +From time to time he rose to add fuel to the fire, as he wanted the +light to be visible from the Gulf, where troubled friends would be +searching the night hills with worried eyes. And he wished the flame +to be seen in the Hills by those who lurked in the dark shadows so +that they might know that no element of stealth entered into the +approach of this white man who invaded a territory forbidden to +strangers since the earliest dawn of Philippine history. This +idea--the thorough advertisement of fearless confidence--was the basis +of his plan. He knew wild men. + +Desperately he fought off the forebodings which assailed him in the +deep silence of the forest night, for hours he tossed in the distress +of apprehension over the friend of whom he came in search. Toward dawn +he fell asleep puzzling over the problem of Terry's reason for closing +the door of his bedroom before going to bed and then opening it for +ventilation. He waked from a dream in which he had slyly peered into +the room in time to see Terry withdrawing a hypodermic needle from his +arm, and lay worrying about the vivid nightmare until he noticed that +the fire was dimming before the coming of dawn. + +He breakfasted, drowned the embers of his fire with water from the +stream, then reslung his pack and started up the slope. The way grew +steeper with the hours, the forest thicker. The green roof of foliage +was now so thick that the sun seldom penetrated and where it did +strike through the sunlit spots were dazzling in contrast with the +somber shadow of the forest. The undergrowth grew denser, so that he +climbed with greater toil through the maze of thorned bush and snaky +creepers that twined in enormous lengths across the forest floor. + +The never-ending gloom of the weird twilight grew on his nerves. He +tried to whistle to cheer himself but forebore when the uncanny +echoes rocketed in the dismal cathedral of towering trunks. + +It was rough and cheerless going. There were no trails. Once, toward +noon, while he was munching chocolate to appease his empty stomach, he +suddenly came upon a sort of runway, a beaten trail. He stepped into +this easier path but had taken but a few steps when he was startled by +the vicious rush of a swift object that whizzed up through the air and +tore through a fold of his loose riding breeches, then swung back +before his eyes to vibrate into stillness. It was a bamboo dagger, +sharpened to a keen edge and point, hardened by charring in a slow +fire. Fastened to a young sapling, it had been bent down over the +trail and secured by a trigger his foot had released in passing. Level +with his thigh, it had been designed to pierce the abdomen of the +Hillmen's natural foes. He bent to examine the glutinous material with +which the dagger was poisoned, and paled as he considered his close +escape. Such a death--in such a place.... + +After assuring himself that his skin had not been broken by the +_balatak_, he stepped gingerly off the trail and made his way upward, +carefully avoiding every inch of ground that appeared suspicious. With +each mile of ascent the way grew steeper, the forest deeper and +darker, the green ceiling reared higher on more massive trunks. + +In mid afternoon he noticed that he was passing through a zone of +utter forest silence. There were no relieving sounds of voice or wing +or padded foot. It was appalling. Nothing in his vivid experiences +had approached the menace of these silent trees. + +Pausing to rest in an area where an unusual amount of indirect light +filtered down through the lofty screen of leaves he looked about him, +found no tree he could identify, and felt the hostility that strange +growths radiate. His thoughts flew back to the security and +friendliness of the elms and maples of his boyhood haunts. As he +peered through the endless avenues of trunks that rose from the dark +slope, he learned what fear is. But he went on, faster. + +An hour later, clambering over the trunk of a huge windfall that +blocked his path, he jumped down upon something that half pierced the +heel of his heavy shoe. Leaning back upon the big log he tugged till +the foot was released. He had landed upon a carpet of leaves which +concealed a number of sharpened bamboo stakes bedded deep in the +ground, point upward. Raking out the leaves with a stick, he uncovered +a nest of sixteen spearheads smeared with the brown venom. + +Forced to study his every footfall, he made slower progress. He was +far up the great slope when he noticed that the tangled underbrush had +given way to a smooth carpet of leaves. Night was near, so he halted +when he came to an open spot, a place where volcanic rock precluded +vegetable growth. Water, steaming hot, poured from a fissure. + +It was the first time he had sighted the sky since morning, and here +he saw the only sign of life the day had afforded. Two gray pigeons +flew side by side across the opening in the trees, winging toward the +crest of the mountain. + +Sleep did not come to him. All through the night he sat by the fire, +staring out into the ruddy circle of vision illumined by the blaze, +peering into the shadows cast by the great trunks. Once a dead limb +fell from a towering tree that stood just at the edge of the circle of +light: he started violently, his hand darting into his shirt front to +his gun. He relaxed, slowly. Big drops of moisture dripped from the +invisible treetops. Thinking it nearly dawn he consulted his watch. It +was eleven o'clock. + +Suddenly he sensed that he was no longer alone, felt the presence of +stealthy forms in the surrounding darkness, heard a twig snap in the +still forest behind him. He waited, tense, the hair at the back of his +neck stiffening as he thought of blowpipes and of darts poisoned by +steeping in the putrid entrails of wild hogs. + +He felt the scrutiny of hostile eyes. Certain that he detected the +movement of an indistinct figure on the rim of the firelight, he threw +on a handful of dry twigs hoping to uncover the prowlers, but the +flareup revealed only an enlarged circle of great trees and emphasized +their shadows. He sat motionless, his eyes focussed sharply upon the +spot, and as the fire died down he saw the flicker of a dark form as +it darted from the shadow of the tree and dissolved into the bordering +gloom. + +He gritted his teeth in an agony of suspense and enforced inaction. As +the long minutes crawled by he writhed inwardly in the horror of +waiting for the stinging impact of the feathered messengers of death, +marshalled every resource of his will in his effort to appear casual, +unafraid, confident of friendly reception. + +Suddenly the silence of the night hills was broken by a weird sound +that rolled down from the heights. He listened, rigid, and realized +that some one was striking a small agong. It came from the crest. +Three times the faint resonance was carried down, the last note +humming long in the tunnel of forest and fading out in slow-dying +vibrations. + +Listening, he noted a change in the forest about him. Minutes passed, +and at last he realized that he was alone, the lurking figures had +been recalled. In the reaction fatigue came, and he wrapped himself in +the blanket and fell asleep. + +At sunrise he was off again, climbing the mountain side, confident +that the recall of his midnight visitors had ended all dangers. The +night would see him at the summit.... APO! + +But with the sense of personal security there came a deep apprehension +of what he would find at the end of his strange quest. His worry over +the fate of the friend for whom he had made this venture increased +with every hour. As the day wore on he fell into a panic of +foreboding, scarce noting that the forest had lost its sinister +aspects, had opened into a lovely wood of sun-splashed vistas broken +here and there by great rugs of thick grass which tempered the beat of +the afternoon sun striking through the openings above the frequent +clearings. + +Suddenly he stopped, sniffing to identify the odor that had rapped at +his heedless nostrils for an hour. Disbelieving the testimony of his +sense of smell he scanned the woods for visual evidence, for the first +time taking in the quiet beauty of the scene. Finding the objects for +which he searched he exclaimed aloud in his wonder. + +"Pines! Pines! Sus-marie-hosep!" + +He drank in the bracing spice of the rare atmosphere, glorying in the +clear coolness of the altitude after the months of oppressive heat in +the lowlands. + +"Real, honest-to-heaven pines--that puts me a clean mile above sea +level!" + +Worry came again, and he turned to continue his ascent, but halted in +midstride as he discovered a form that stood, motionless, upon a +grassy plot a few rods above him. A Hillman confronted him! + +Evidently a young fighting man, of small stature but wonderfully +developed of shoulder and limb, full chested and round of barrel, his +brown skin covered only with a red G-string, spear in hand, he +returned the Major's stare with a steady gaze of appraisal. For a long +minute he remained poised, then beckoned to the Major to follow him +and whirling with a flirt of his long black hair he led the way up the +acclivity, bearing to the right of the course the Major had taken. + +The Major turned his back to the savage while he reached into his +shirt to put his pistol at full cock and safe, then followed him. The +ascent stiffened abruptly, then ended, so that they came out on a +wooded plateau a half-mile square in the center of which the crest of +the mountain reared in a last upheave of perfect cone several hundred +feet high. Skirting the edge of the cone they emerged from the woods +and came to the border of a village. + +The Major paused at the edge of the clearing, congratulating himself +upon the wonderful good fortune that had brought him safely among the +Hill People, and studying the village. A large number of crude +thatched huts had been erected scatteringly at the bases of the trees +surrounding the level clearing. Not a soul was in sight except the +young warrior who had acted as his guide, who stood in front of a +shack somewhat larger and better built than its neighbors. + +As the Major stepped into the clearing he saw a figure appear at the +door, and his sturdy heart lodged in his throat as he leaped forward. + +It was Terry. + +They met in the center of the clearing near the smoldering cooking +fire, their hands gripping hard. Their eyes were moist with the relief +each found in the other's safety. Both struggled for apt expression of +their pentup emotions. + +The Major found his tongue first. + +"Well, it's fine air up here," he offered. + +"Ayeh." Terry's grin was uncertain. "And there's so much of it!" + +And they shook hands on it, complacently. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE HILL PEOPLE + + +Occasionally one passes a stranger on the street whose face bears the +unmistakable imprint of recent pain, a patient line of mouth and +haunting glow of eyes that have looked close into the eternal shadows. +Terry bore this look. + +He unbuckled the Major's pack straps and relieving him of the load led +him into the shack he occupied. It was a small hut, roofed and sided +with grass woven into a bamboo lattice work; stilted six feet above +the ground it trembled under the Major's heavy tread. A woven bamboo +partition divided it into two small halves, and each room was bare +save for a slatted cot that served as chair by day and couch by night. +The breeze blew up through the strips of bamboo flooring. + +Exhausted the Major sank down upon the hard cot but rose to sitting +posture to study Terry with bloodshot eyes. + +"Terry," he said, "you're looking a little--what the folks back home +call 'peaked'." + +Terry's face was a little haggard, his body a little slimmer, the +steady gray eyes were deeper set. + +"Oh, I'm all right." He seated himself on the ledge of the window near +the Major. "You had a tight go of it last night. Did you hear the +little agong ring?" + +"Yes." + +"The young Hillmen wanted to wipe you out. I had to work pretty hard +with Ohto--the old chief--to persuade him to let you come in +unharmed." His face clouded. "I have been worried ever since you +started into the Hills." + +"How did you know that I was coming?" + +"Major, that's why I have been so worried about not being able to +start back--I knew that you would come as soon as you heard." + +The Major flushed in quick pleasure at the unconscious tribute to his +friendship and his courage. He filled his pipe and smoked contentedly. +It was the biggest hour that he had ever known. Terry unharmed, well; +his own hazards surmounted; and the Hill Country penetrated at +last--the impossible again achieved by the Constabulary. He settled +back comfortably, using his pack as a pillow. + +"Tell me all about it," he said. + +"There is not much to tell, Major. You must already know all about the +way in which the Macabebes finished what Malabanan started, and of +Sakay's leap into the pool--did Sears dynamite that pool?" + +Horror shadowed the steady eyes till the Major assured him that the +pool and its dweller were of the past. + +"Major, that Sakay affair was pretty--bad: I keep wondering if I +missed him--I would hate to think that.... Well, I had not felt well +all day. I must have been exposed to that fever at Dalag and--" + +"Yes, I guess you had! Merchant told me about that!" + +Terry flushed and went on. "I started through the brush to get to the +doctor, but I must have been sicker than I thought, for I don't +remember anything after entering the woods. It's all a dream to me. +Something pulled me up this way--I've always hoped to be the one to +open up the Hills--and I kept coming. I remember lying down at dusk +and being picked up and carried through the night. I must have been +delirious for about ten days, but had conscious periods every day. +Every time I had a clear spell I swallowed several tablets of the +quinine Sears gave me. I guess that quinine saved me--I would like to +have Sears know about it. + +"Those ten days are rather confused, of course, but I remember the +care the women gave me and some of their rough remedies. I came out of +the delirium two weeks ago but was pretty weak, so did not try to get +up, but lay there listening to their talk. Their dialect is quite like +the Bogobo--I think they're just a tribe of Bogobos separated from the +others by those infernal woods. I soon learned that they had spared me +and cared for me because they thought that I was daft. You know that +these primitive tribes never molest lunatics--they think that they are +possessed of devils which, if disturbed, will enter the heads of +whoever harms their present host. Probably I raved a good bit on the +way up, when they were following me. + +"When they realized that I was sane the tribe split into two +factions--one wanted to finish me but the other insisted that my +coming was a good augury. It was rather queer to lie here and listen +to the arguments pro and con--I pulled pretty hard for the negative +contenders! The question was finally decided by the old chief, Ohto, +who announced that my fate would be determined when next the limocons +sang. That settled the immediate question. + +"The limocon is a big species of pigeon that nests in the Hills. It +seldom sings, and then only at nightfall. It is reverenced by these +people, who believe that it sings prophecies of good or evil, the +character of the omen being determined by the point of the compass in +which it lights to offer its rare evening song. Direction is gauged +from where the Tribal Agong hangs--I will show you that after supper. +It is a queer superstition, Major: they think that a song in the west +means greatest harm--death by famine or disease or intra-tribal wars, +from the north the omen is ill but to a lesser degree, south is good, +but a song from the east augurs greatest happiness to their people." + +The Major was pulling on a dead pipe, absorbed in Terry's story but +building into it all of the suffering and loneliness and suspense +which the lad ignored in the telling. + +"They say that the limocon has sung in the east but once since it +heralded the birth of Ohto, who is the greatest chief they ever had. +But it has sung in the west eight times--and each time it was followed +by the death of one of Ohto's family. Now the old man is the last of +his line. These things may have been mere coincidences but you can see +why they believe implicitly in their feathered oracles. + +"A week ago, while I was still kept prisoned in this hut, the bird +sang in the south, an omen of sufficient favor to cause my release. +Since then I have been free to wander about--and if it had not sung, +my influence would have amounted to nothing when I pled for you. And I +might not have been here to plead. + +"That's about all, Major, except as to what manner of folk these +Hillmen are, and that you will learn better for yourself." + +The Major rose and stepped to the door where they could survey the +village, unseen by the brown people who now swarmed the hard-packed +clearing. They were a squat race. The men, G-stringed, displayed the +same powerful physique that had marked the warrior who had conducted +the Major, the women were clad in a single width of homespun cotton +which draped from waist to knee and passed up over breast and back to +knot at the right shoulder. Men, women and children were all long +haired, and marked alike with broad, high cheek-boned faces flattened +across the bridge of the nose. Their slightly thickened lips and +widened nostrils were offset by large, intelligent eyes. They were +grouped about the fires which burned in the center of the village, the +women tending the pots which steamed over the coals. The fresh hide of +a buck lay in the center of the ring of fires amid heaps of yams and +unthreshed rice. + +"Community cooking," explained Terry. "The young men hunt, the older +ones farm, the girls weave and the old women cook. The scheme works +out well in such a simple manner of living. Such government as they +have is a blending of a little democracy with strong patriarchism. The +old chief, Ohto, lets them have their own way about the little +things, but when he speaks it is the law." + +"How numerous are they?" + +"Six or eight thousand. This is the largest of nine villages scattered +around the crown of the mountain. Ohto rules them all." + +He pointed to a wide lane leading through the fringe of woods into +another and smaller clearing a few hundred feet south. + +"That is where Ohto lives. No one approaches his house unless sent +for. You--we--are to have an audience with him to-night. He set the +time at moonrise." + +"A husky lot," commented the Major. "They're bigger than the Bogobos, +and lighter skinned--but they sure don't get much chance to tan in +these woods!" + +"They're a wild lot, Major, but you'll like them." + +They saw a woman leave the circle of fires and approach their hut +bearing two crude dishes. She hesitated near the door, nervously +searching the newcomer with timid black eyes, but reassured by Terry's +low word she climbed the bamboo steps and laid before them a supper of +venison, yams and boiled rice, then scampered out with a twinkle of +brown legs. + +While they ate the Major outlined the news of Davao. Terry, tired of +the monotonous fare, finished quickly and sat on the threshold, +looking out upon the savages who squatted at supper about the fires. + +"Major," he said, "we arrived here at a strange time. These people are +all worked up over the question as to who shall succeed Ohto as chief +of the tribe. You remember I told you that he has no relatives, that +they have all died off. His last grandson died three years ago. He was +to have married--" + +He broke off and turned to face the Major. "You may remember my +reporting a Bogobo tale to the effect that a Spanish baby had been +abducted?" + +"Yes, we looked it up, Terry. It was true." + +"It's true all right. She is here! A wonderful girl, Major, beautiful, +wildly reared but--well, you may see her to-night for yourself. She +was stolen by these people when she was an infant and Ohto's grandson +was three years old, stolen to become his bride when both came of age. +That is the way they keep their chieftain strain fresh--by stealing +children from outside tribes and mating them when they grow up. +Ahma--that is her name--is the only white child they ever abducted. + +"But Ohto's grandson died a year before the marrying age. She has +grown up in Ohto's household, has been taught their beliefs, dresses +like them except that as his adopted daughter she is entitled to finer +things. She is one of them except for the whiteness of her skin. One +of them, yet ... different." + +His voice trailed off into a silence in which the subdued murmurings +of the Hill People sounded loud. + +The Major stirred where he lay stretched on the hard couch: "Who will +succeed this Ohto, then?" + +Terry roused himself. "The tribe is wrought up over this problem, as +well as the problem of our presence here. They gather every night and +discuss the matter. Some want to select a new chief among the young +men and train him so that he will be ready when Ohto dies, others +insist that Ahma--this girl--shall select a husband from among them +and thus raise him automatically to chieftainship. But she laughs at +them all, though there are plenty of aspirants for the honor. The old +chief has said nothing--he just sits and thinks. + +"He loves Ahma with all of the wild love of a savage for the young he +has cared for since infancy. He seems to consider her happiness even +above the wishes and welfare of the tribe." + +"Terry, you said this girl is 'different.' How different?" + +Terry shrugged his shoulders, rose and secured their hats before +answering. + +"You will probably see her to-night, Major. Come, I want to show you +the Tribal Agong." + +Leaving the shack they threaded through the tiers of huts and crossed +through the fringe of trees that surrounded the village, coming out at +the foot of the cone. The huge monolith rose some eight hundred feet +above the tableland on which the village was built. Its symmetrical +slopes were smooth and steep. A goat could not have found footing +anywhere upon its precipitous sides. + +A winding shelf had been cut out of the rock to serve as a trail. It +wound round the cone a dozen times in an ascent of several hundred +feet where it terminated, high above where they stood, in a niche +twenty feet square. Niche and trail had been chipped out of solid rock +and were worn smooth by the rains of many years. Here and there the +smooth surface was checkered with fissures, marks of erosion and +earthquake. + +The Major, head bent far back, breathed deeply: + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" he exclaimed. + +High above the spot where they stood a granite arm had been carved +over the rock platform in which the winding trail ended, and from this +arm a mammoth bronze agong hung suspended over them. + +"Why, I always thought those stories of the Giant Agong were +just--why, how in thunder did they get it up there? And how did they +cast it? Why--Sus-marie-hosep!" + +The Major gazed up till the muscles at the back of his neck ached: +"Why, it must be fifteen feet in diameter--that striking knob is--why, +the thing must weigh six or seven tons!" + +With this last thought the Major moved uneasily to one side. Terry +grinned at him. + +"I felt that same way when I first stood under it, but I've been up +there. That flimsy-looking arm on which it hangs is two feet thick and +chiseled out of solid granite to form a bracket. I think you are right +about its size--the striking knob in the center is about six inches +wide." + +The Major shook his head, still bewildered: "Terry, I feel as if this +is all a dream--being up here on Apo, this cold air, the smell of the +pines, and now this thing here--Sus-marie-hosep!" + +"The old Bogobo woman who told me of hearing the Agong insisted that +she would live to hear it rung again. It is never rung except at the +marriage of a chieftain or the birth of his heir. These Hillmen +fairly worship it. They have the most absurd legends as to how it was +cast and hung up there, and of the reasons for the wonderful tone they +say it sounds. They believe that the souls of all the dead limocons +live on in it forever and that when it is sounded they all burst forth +in song." + +The sun exhausted its last white rays and sank below the low hills +beneath them. Terry moved forward into the narrow trail and indicated +to the Major that he should follow. They ascended slowly, the shelf +narrowing so that by the time they had mounted twice about the base of +the crag they were forced to advance by careful side steps, their +backs against the cliff. Terry stopped at the fourth spiral, his hands +gripping the jagged projections, his back tight against the cliff, and +when the Major reached his side he nodded significantly toward the +horizon. + +The Major slowly withdrew his eyes from the dizzying abruptness of the +fall beneath them, and followed Terry's rapt gaze. The great panorama +of the Gulf lay unfolded beneath their aerie. + +The sun, glowing pink against the crag, cast its huge shadow over the +now tiny huts beneath them. Dusk was already falling over the great +sloping forest that stretched from beneath their feet far into the +Mindanao fastnesses and ended in a dim horizon where pink-blue of sky +melted into the misted billows of distant hills. Far southward the +Celebes was faintly outlined, a frosted mirror framed by primeval +verdure, and to the east the slopes extended down mile upon mile, +flattened, then leveled to edge the great sweep of the gulf. + +They stood tight against the clear crest while the swift shadows +gathered the Gulf into its fold. The little valleys faded, and +blackened, and the lower hills disappeared. The gulf narrowed, +shortened, and dissolved into the night. The dark crept swiftly up the +slopes as if envious of the ruby crown set on Apo's forehead by the +abdicating sun. + +A steady wind, cool and fragrant with the odorous pines, streamed +against them, forced their bodies hard against the crag. The Major, +enraptured of the vast grandeur, voiced his exaltation. + +"Jiminy!" he said. "The top of the world! An empire!--an empire of +hemp! And our flag covers it all!" + +Receiving no answer, he carefully pivoted his head so as to face +Terry, and was humbled by what he saw. Terry's face, white in the fast +fading light, was exalted, glowed like that of an esthetic of the +Middle Ages, his eyes shone with a vision wider than that disclosed +from the mountain top. + +"Terry, what do you see--in all this?" the Major asked. + +The wind whipped his words into space. He repeated, louder. + +Terry stirred slightly, answered vaguely, his gaze still fixed upon +the tremendous shadowed expanse below them: "I was thinking of a ... +dozen words ... spoken upon another mountain, words that seem very +real ... and make one feel very small ... in such a place as this." + +The Major puzzled, gave it up. He was on the point of asking +explanation when Terry spoke. + +"We had best get down from here, Major. It is getting darker." + +It took them but a few minutes to work their way down, but the crag +reared black against ten thousand stars when they reached the base. In +the regions near the equator the sun courses in hot hurry. + +Returned to the hut, the Major sat on the window ledge and Terry at +the threshold. The night was chill with the clear crispness of +altitude. The Major sniffed the pine-laden breeze gratefully. + +"We have found a new Baguio," he said. + +Terry assented, absentmindedly. + +The Major nursed his empty pipe, studying the savages who grouped +around the fires to warm their almost naked bodies. Occasionally one +or two would detach themselves from the groups and approach near where +the two white men sat illumined by the flames, staring at these +strangers in frank curiosity, silent, inscrutable, unafraid. Noticing +the glint of fire upon a nearby row of long-shafted spears which +reared their vicious barbs eight feet above the ground into which they +had been thrust, the Major spoke to Terry. + +"Your pistol?" + +Terry motioned toward his room; "In there. They never bothered me +about it--probably don't know what a pistol is." + +The Major, thinking of the sensation the opening of the Hill Country +would create, of the Governor's joy when he should hear the news, of +the added prestige for his Service, turned to Terry to express +something of his thoughts. But he desisted when he saw by Terry's +flame-illumined countenance that he had forgotten his presence, for +there was something about the lean wistful face that made his +detachment inviolable. + +Soon the moon rose above the level of the plateau and flooded the +village with a filtered glow. Terry rose. + +"Ohto ordered me to bring you at moonrise." He waited until the Major +had secured the gifts he had packed up, then led the way through the +lane into the smaller clearing. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AHMA + + +In the center of the moonlit clearing there stood a larger house than +any in the village. The soft beams of light reflected from the bamboo +sides of the structure and the heavy dew on the thatched roof +glistened like a myriad of fireflies. A wide path led to the porch, +and near this there was set a tripod, fashioned of saplings, from +which was suspended the little agong the Major had heard during the +night. + +As they neared the foot of the ladder that served as stairway the +Major started violently as two brown forms appeared at their elbows; +at a word from Terry they stepped aside to let the two white men pass, +one calling softly to a guard stationed at the top of the ladder. The +door was thrown open and they mounted the bamboo rungs and entered the +house of Ohto. + +Pine torches illuminated the room, which was some twenty feet square, +roughly sided and floored with bamboo slats; there was no ceiling, so +that a quarter of the high-pitched thatching of the house showed +overhead. A dozen middle-aged Hillmen stood along the wall, evidently +the influential men of the village. Across from them an aged Hillman +sat in a rough-hewed, high-backed chair. + +Terry advanced and addressed the old man, his whole manner bespeaking +a sincere regard and respect; then he beckoned to the Major. + +"This is Ohto," he said. "I will interpret for you if he does not +understand your dialect." + +The Major faced the fine, austere old patriarch. The brown face had +been wrinkled bewilderingly by the heavy-handed years, but his eyes +still glowed with something of the pride and spirit of his youth. +Wrapped in a thick blanket of hand woven _kapok_, he confronted them +with that air of dignity and distinction common to those who from +early life have dominated the councils of a community. + +The Major silently tendered his gifts. Ohto motioned to one of his +retainers and in a few monosyllables ordered their distribution among +the people, the red cloth to the women, the beads to the children and +the matches to be divided among the young men. As he retained nothing +for himself the Major produced a new pocket knife he carried, and bade +Terry make Ohto understand that it was for himself. The savage bent +his hoary locks over the treasure, examining the mysterious blades +that opened and closed at his will, and accepted it as his own. + +The Major attempted to address the chief in his scanty Bogobo, +stumbled, and turned to Terry beseechingly. + +"You tell him, Terry. You know what we've got to say better than I +do!" + +So Terry spoke, and though the Major did not know it, he continually +referred to him as his chief, put all of the fine phrases in his name. +The warriors along the wall weighed every word. + +Terry told Ohto of their great pleasure in having entered the Hills, +and of their appreciation of their reception. He extended the +greetings of the White Chief across the waters at Zamboanga, tried to +impress him with the interest the White Chief took in the Hill People +and of his good will toward them: told of the advantages that would +follow intercourse with the lowlands, of the good that would come to +his people from contact with others. Finally he dwelt upon the folly +of isolation, of the benefits of commerce and schools and other +elements of civilization. + +The flare of the pitch torches brought out the sincerity of his face. +The old chief listened, inscrutably, his unwavering gaze fixed upon +the earnest speaker. Before the aged infirmity of Ohto Terry stood in +apt symbol of lithe youth. + +It was apparent that Ohto did not grasp much of what Terry strove to +impart, for the primitive imagination was powerless to understand +institutions he could not conceive. He listened gravely but gave no +inkling of what went on behind the mask of his wise old eyes. + +Terry finished, awaited expression of his decision. For a long time +the patriarch remained silent, idly opening and closing the blades of +his knife. The Hillmen ranged along the wall, who had listened +attentively to Terry's arguments for opening up their country to the +outlanders, waited their chief's pronouncement with set faces and +gleaming eyes, their brown bodies still as bronze figures. + +At last the patriarch raised his head high, so that the snow white +hair fell back across his blanketed shoulders. He spoke so slowly +that Terry was able to follow him with whispered interpretations into +the anxious Major's ear. + +"Many rainy seasons have washed my hair white. I live to see strange +things--I never thought to see a white man's face within my +walls--except, perhaps, upon a spear, grinning. + +"When I was born--and no other man or woman of my tribe lives who saw +the sun of that far day--they said, the wise men, that much good would +come to my people before I died. + +"They read it in the stars, they said. No great ill has come, except +to my own blood. All gone--wife, sons, grandsons. Never again will the +Agong ring for one of Ohto's blood!" + +They felt the greater pity because the proud old chieftain demanded no +sympathy, but merely stated the pathetic fact with a simple dignity. + +He was silent for a time, lost in an old man's memories. Then he +turned to one of the four retainers who flanked his chair. + +"I am lonely," he said. "I would that Ahma would sit by me." + +As the swart Hillman crossed the springy floor and rapped gently upon +a closed door, the Major saw that every black eye focussed upon it +with eager expectancy. For a moment the room was palpitant with +suspense. He looked to Terry for explanation, but turned back at the +grinding crunch of the hingeless door which opened to frame a fairer +vision than the Major had ever dreamed, asleep or awake. + +A white girl had stepped out of the other room and paused a moment +against the dark background of the door to sweep the room with big +black eyes. + +A single piece of white cloth, fringed with bat fur, was draped about +her waist and fell below her knee, the ends passing up in front and +back of her round body to fasten loosely at the right shoulder. This, +with a little sleeveless garment fashioned, bolero-like, out of the +delicate bat skins, and a pair of sandals contrived in such a way as +to bring the hair of the deer skin against the little feet, was all +she wore. + +Bronner scarcely realized the symmetry of the slender form, so lost +was he in the spell of the dark eyes that plumbed his for one long +second, leaving him tingling with a curious conviction that his soul +had been bared. Vivid of white skin, of jet eyes, of a mass of +midnight hair that hung loose to her waist, she radiated the fire and +spirit of vibrant youth. + +"God! Such a girl--up here--all these years!" he breathed. + +She left the doorway and crossing the room with the light grace of +slender, untrammeled limbs, sank down on a bench drawn up at Ohto's +side. He set his withered hand contentedly upon the mass of her hair, +and in a moment he spoke again. + +"If the prophecies of the wise men are to be fulfilled, it must be +soon. The good fortune of which they spoke has not come to my +people--and Ohto cannot tarry long in wait.... Death calls an old man. + +"It may be that the prophecy had to do with the coming of these white +men. It may be that it would be better to no longer guard the Hills +with balatak and stake and spear and poisoned dart. It may be that our +people would be stronger--happier." + +Again he halted his slow monosyllables, searching the faces of the +Hillmen who waited upon his words: utter devotion and loyalty were +apparent in every brown face. Proudly conscious of their fidelity, he +regarded them kindly, then his thoughts reverted to the girl at his +side, and he gently stroked the lustrous black hair. She sat quiet +under the caress, her head bent down in an attitude that revealed the +white line from shoulder to throat, her eyes sheltered behind long +lashes. At last Ohto raised his head again and when he spoke he gazed +straight at Terry. + +"Ever since we ... found ... her, this lovely flower has flourished. +She now blooms in full blossom in my house--a white orchid on a +gnarled old root. + +"Before Ohto leaves the Hills he would like to see Ahma safe,--guarded +and cherished by one who loves ... and knows. Though not of Ohto's +blood, she is of Ohto's heart. I will that when she finds a stronger +tree upon which to fasten--the Tribal Agong shall be rung for her." + +Astonished out of their racial imperturbability, the Hillmen eyed each +other at this departure from the ancient custom of ringing the Giant +Agong only for those of chieftain blood. The girl's wide eyes raised +to Terry, shifted momentarily to the Major, and lowered. + +The old man concluded: "You both speak fair, but I do not know what +is best for my people. I do not know. + +"We must await a sign to guide us. The Spirit will speak to us through +limocon or nature, will solve the problem that you have brought to us +... and will decide your fate. + +"Until the Spirit speaks, you are safe with us, white men. + +"I am weary now." + + * * * * * + +The venerable savage gathered the blanket more closely about his thin +shoulders and closed his eyes as if exhausted. One of the four who +stood behind him pointed to the door to indicate that their audience +was at an end. As they passed out, the Major turned for a last look at +Ahma, who was leading the old man into his room. + +In the middle of the clearing he stopped short. + +"Say, you forgot to translate what Ohto said after she came into the +room!" + +Terry smiled whimsically up into the chagrined face: "That's right, I +did! But you seemed to lose interest in his words!" + +As they made their way through the village Terry explained Ohto's +decision, concluding with: "And so he awaits one of their 'signs,' the +appearance of the limocons, or some freak of weather or natural +phenomenon like an earthquake--they read prophecies in everything." + +The Major sat down heavily upon the bench. He was genuinely disturbed +at this new phase, as he had thought their hazards passed. + +"Why," he exclaimed, "that puts us square in the Lap o' Luck! Think of +just waiting around for an earthquake or something--or for some darned +bird to sing! With the opening up of this country as the stake--yes +and our own hides. Sus-marie-hosep!" + +Terry had taken his usual seat on the threshold, chin in hand, his +face bathed in the light of the moon that now hung high overhead and +flooded the mountain top with a friendly glow. The cool night breezes +came in strong gusts which rustled the foliage about them. + +Calmed by Terry's attitude of quiet confidence and strength, the Major +faced their problem coolly, sought a way out. For a while his mind +raced with plans, but each died in the minute of inception. He could +not influence winds, or induce wild birds to sing in given quarters of +the compass, or devise earthquakes. He fell to thinking of Ahma. + +Later, observing Terry closely, he asked: "And what are you dreaming +about now?" + +Terry stirred as though awakened: "Oh, home--mostly." + +The Major wanted to talk, but the patient distress in the voice +deterred him from what seemed intrusion. + +Later he suggested sleep. Terry lighted a torch and stuck it into the +doorway, so that while lighting both rooms its fumes carried into the +open. The Major discarded shoes and leggings, and wrapping himself in +his blanket lay down with his pack as pillow. Terry waited till the +Major had disposed himself as comfortably as possible, then +extinguished the torch and went into his own room, closing the door +behind him. + +The Major stared through the dark at the closed door, wondering, as +usual, what was going on behind it. Then as a gust of cold wind blew +in through the window he snugged down into his blanket. + +Another and stronger gust, and he heard the door into Terry's room +creak as it swung to the breeze. Looking up, he learned at last. + +In the rectangular patch of moonlight which entered Terry's room +through a raised window he saw him by the side of the rough slatted +cot, kneeling in that most ancient of attitudes, in which the children +of all the ages have bowed to supplicate and render homage to the +Keeper of the Great Secret. + +The Major's eyes moistened. As the last clear phrase reached him he +again stood flattened against the wind swept crag--"on the top of the +world," and he now understood the "dozen words spoken on another +mountain." They came from Terry's lips low, simple, majestic: + +"--is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory.... Forever...." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE SIGN + + +The sun striking on his face through the open window waked the Major +to the cool clear morning. Sitting up, he saw Terry sunning himself on +the threshold, wrapped in a scant blanket such as Ohto had worn, his +hair wet from his bath in the creek which emptied the big spring at +the foot of the crag. Even in the stupor in which he woke from his +heavy sleep the Major noted the ruddy glow of the skin which covered +Terry's bare arm and leg, was surprised at the development of the +muscles which played into being at each slight movement. His face was +as evenly pallid as ever. + +The Major stopped yawning. "Terry, I always thought of you as +being--sort of skinny, but you're as hard as nails." + +He wrapped closer in the cotton cloth. "I've always taken good care of +myself, Major. From the time when I was a boy I have thought a good +deal about--all sorts of things--and I realized early that one thing +was certain--that this is the only body I'm ever going to have." + +Learning from Terry where he could wash up, the Major made his way to +the creek and after disrobing waded into the deepest spot and soaped +himself liberally. For a moment he enjoyed the bath, but as the +spring was the source of water supply for the village and as the young +women were allotted the task of carrying it, his exhilaration was +short lived. The water came but to his knees, so most of the half hour +he spent in the pool he lay submerged to his chin, his agonized +bachelor face exposed to the maidens who observed him from the spring +three rods away. He would have taken no comfort from the thought--if +it had come to him--that to them comparative nakedness was the normal +state. + +Mountain springs are usually clear and chill, and this was no +exception. He was numb with cold when, hearing a snort of +irrepressible joy behind him, he twisted his head about to discover +Terry enjoying his discomfiture. After Terry drove the girls away the +Major jumped out of the creek and hurried into his clothes, blue +lipped, shivering. + +"T-Terry, you'd better q-q-quit laughing! M-Millions have been +m-m-murdered on less p-p-provocation!" + +After breakfast Terry, intent upon discovery of some way out of their +predicament, left for a long walk. Alone in the little house, the +Major brooded half the morning over the plight in which the old +chief's dictum had placed them, then dismissed the profitless +forebodings and went out to the village to study the natives. + +The clearing was empty of men. A score of the older women were +fetching wood to the fires, another group were washing camotes and +threshing rice with hand flails. Upward of a hundred naked children, +pot-bellied, straightbacked, stared at the big white stranger as he +passed, then ceased their pathetically futile efforts at play and +trooped along behind him, their eyes as old as Ohto's. He looked in at +the young women weaving kapok thread into cloth for blankets and the +garments the women wore, but recognizing in the third house he entered +three of the girls who had watched him in the creek, he fled in +confusion. + +He ate dinner alone, as Terry had not returned. In the afternoon he +continued his study of tribal customs. He had known the Luzon head +hunters intimately, so had a basis of comparison. He went among the +older women freely and sat with them about the fires, practicing his +Bogobo, questioning, enlarging his vocabulary, winning their +friendliness. + +As the afternoon waned he left the clearing, feeling in need of +exercise. He strode rapidly about the circumference of the plateau and +as he threaded the fringe of woods that separated the main clearing +from Ohto's reservation, he halted suddenly as he saw Ahma tripping +toward him on her way to Ohto's house. + +His first wild impulse was to dodge among the trees and avoid her, but +as she had seen him he stood still until she should pass. But she +swerved toward him and approaching with light, swift tread of free +limbs she stopped a few feet before him, smiling. + +Embarrassed by the creamy curves of shoulder and limbs, he sought +diversion in the treetops. She spoke, and at the sound of the clear +little voice he looked at her, and in looking forgot the eccentricity +of her frank costume. Her dark eyes held him: he knew that he was +gazing at the only wholly ingenuous being he had ever seen. He +swallowed convulsively. + +"Hello," he said. + +Bronner was subtle to a fault! + +Puzzled at the word, she wrinkled her nose in delicious groping for +understanding, then laughed up at him. And with the laugh something +popped within his sturdy chest. + +He hastily substituted the Hillmen's word of greeting, which he had +learned during the morning, and joined loudly in her merriment. Elated +with this success, he marshalled his resources of dialect to further +impress her but with a last bewildering glance from her dark eyes she +flitted homeward. + +He watched the white figure out of sight in the woods, vaguely aware +that some new emotion had come to him. He stood among the trees some +minutes after she had disappeared, then turned toward the village. + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" he exploded. + + * * * * * + +At supper time the clearing was again crowded with the entire +population of the village, the men having returned from their pursuits +of hunting, gardening and patrolling the great slope. Terry and +Bronner talked little, each taking his usual seat at window and door +to idly watch the crowd outside. + +Most of the Hillmen ignored their presence, but one, a squat, powerful +fellow, swaggered by the door where Terry sat. Twice he passed, and +each time he leered derisively at the white man. + +"Who's your friend, Terry?" queried the Major. + +"Oh, that's Pud-Pud. He's the town bully--and never has liked me. He +led the crowd that opposed my--staying. He has bothered Ahma a good +deal, too: wants to marry her. She laughs at him, of course. What have +you been doing all day, Major?" + +The Major told him of everything but the meeting with Ahma, spoke +enthusiastically of the tribe. + +"They're straight Malay, Terry," he wound up. "A pure strain, +something you seldom see in the lowlands where the Spanish and Chinese +have addled the blood. They ought to develop rapidly under proper +guidance--they are a single-minded, sincere, fearless people." + +Terry nodded agreement: "Nor are they the terrible people that the +Bogobos think them. Their fear of them must have been based on dread +of that sinister belt of forest. A good road will end all that." + +They waited till Pud-Pud made a third mocking trip past their hut, gay +in a G-string contrived of a length of the cloth the Major had brought +up: it flamed against the naked brownness of back and legs. + +"He's a lady-killer all right!" Terry said. "Ahma told me that he had +coaxed the calico away from one of the girls." + +The Major stirred. "You saw Ahma to-day?" + +But he had hesitated so long over the question that Terry, sunk in +deep thought, did not hear him, and somehow he did not feel like +repeating. He turned in on the hard bed with new things on his mind. +Measles is not the only affection that "takes harder" near maturity. + +Several days passed without incident. Each morning the clearing +emptied after breakfast as all but the cooks left for the day's work. +Usually Terry wandered out alone, returning at evening to sit in the +doorway, lost in study. + +Daily the Major loitered about the village till late afternoon, then +took up his stand in the woods near Ohto's domicile, waiting: and Ahma +never failed him. Bashfully distressed at first in the close proximity +to the wealth of charm revealed by her scant costume, he soon became +unconscious of it, her garb was so entirely congruous to her free, +unschooled nature. He practiced his sketchy dialect upon her, +delighted in each successful transmission of thought, more delighted +in the naive bewilderment that many of his linguistic efforts wrought +in her frank features. + +The fifth day she failed to appear. He waited long, restless, till +certain that she would not come and then set off through the woods, +his big heart yearning for an unattainable something he could not +define or classify. + +Regardless of where he went the Major crossed the tableland and +started down the incline of the slope. A mile, and he came across some +young hunters beating deer into a fenced runway that converged to a +narrow opening where two warriors stood ready, armed with great +spears. He turned to the left, crossing a little burnt clearing which +still bore the stubble of the season's harvest. Another half-mile and +he suddenly came upon a grass lean-to behind which two old Hillmen +grimly stirred a simmering pot from which arose an overpowering +stench: he fled the spot, knowing the sinister character of the +venomous brew. + +The sun was low when he returned to the hut, still unhappy over +Ahma's failure to appear. In a few minutes Terry entered the shack. He +had come from the direction of Ohto's house, and his face was cleared +of the perplexity of the last few days. + +During supper Terry studied the moody face of his friend, but forebore +comment. At the hour of sunset--the hour when the superstitious +Hillmen looked for their "signs"--the savages thronged the clearing in +mute expectancy. It was apparent that Ohto's injunction had been +communicated throughout the Hills, as each night the crowd who waited +the sign was augmented by contingents from other villages. The +hundreds stood, silent, as the sun sank slowly into a horizon of white +clouds which flushed pink, brightened into shades of rose and crimson. +For a brief moment the upturned faces of the brown host were ruddied; +they stood motionless, mute, while dusk settled. Then night fell +almost at a stroke. + +Again there had been no revelation. As the heaped fires illuminated +the clearing, five mature Hillmen stalked past the white men's hut and +into the forest. Terry identified them to the Major as the sub-chiefs +who ruled the five adjacent villages. + +The Major sat in the window a while, watching the Hillmen, who +squatted around the fires smoking their ridiculously tiny pipes and +conversing in low gutturals. He fidgeted, then left Terry +unceremoniously and skirting the village through the woods unseen by +the crowd, he waited an hour near Ohto's house in the hope of seeing +Ahma. Disappointed, he returned and threw himself on the cot. + +Terry sat in his accustomed place in the doorway, watching the fleecy +clouds that a high wind drove across the sky, vast sliding shutters +which opened and closed over the cool glow of the moon. The cold +breeze chilled the Major, and he drew his blanket tight about him. +Terry's voice roused him from his dejected reverie. + +"Major, I notice that you didn't carry your gun to-day. Don't go +without it again." + +The Major half rose: "Why--you don't think--I haven't seen any +indication of--" + +"I guess you've forgotten that we are in the Hill Country. If they +find a 'sign' that is unfavorable to us--there won't be any delay. And +we don't want to sell out cheaply." + +The grave judicial tones startled the Major. In his absorption in the +white girl he had lost sight of their precarious situation. + +Terry went on: "The tide of sentiment is turning against us. They seem +more antagonistic, more sullen. So please be careful." + +Terry lapsed silent and sat in the door, chin in hand. Soon the +increasing wind drove the Major under his blanket again, and overcome +by a curious feeling of comfort and security in the mere presence of +the slight figure huddled at the door, he soon fell asleep. + +Terry, unmindful of the chill breeze, remained in the doorway, deep in +thought. Suddenly he brought his hand to his knee in quick decision, +and after tip-toeing over to the Major to be sure that he slept, he +silently departed the hut and skirting the edge of the moonlit +clearing, disappeared into the lane that led to the house where Ahma +lived. + + * * * * * + +Toward morning the Major woke with a start, bewildered by an unearthly +sound that smote his ears. The wind had risen to a gale, tearing the +fleece from the sky, so that the moon peered down upon a sea of +treetops turbulent with the buffets of rushing air. + +He sat up straight to relieve the thunderous humming in his head, then +comprehending that the amazing sound was a reality, he strove to solve +the source of the bewildering tones. A deep, low murmuring filled the +air, swelling in volume with each heavier gust which drove over the +mountain: the sound deepened and strengthened, mounting to a sustained +musical rumble that almost stupefied him. + +"Ooooommmmmm-ah-oooommmmmmmm-ah-oooooo-ommmmmmm." The muffled volume +diminished, increased again with fresh burst of fleeting wind, and as +the wind subsided suddenly, the vibrant note fluttered, died away. + +The Major had lived too long and too much to believe in the +supernatural but in the dark he found relief in the sound of his own +voice. + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" he breathed. "Some ghost! No wonder they believe in +signs up here!" + +He saw that the wind had blown shut the door into Terry's room. +Knowing his habit of ventilation he rose to open it, and as it swung +ajar he saw that Terry was not there. + +He stood in the dim room a moment, staring out of the window at the +triple rows of huts which the moonlight had transformed into elfin +playhouses. Perplexity as to Terry's whereabouts gave way to deep +anxiety. Then his eyes caught the flicker of something white in the +shadowy grove that fronted Ohto's house. Looking closely, he watched +it flutter away among the trees, then a darker figure emerged from the +spot. + +It was Terry. + +The Major's big hands closed hard upon the bamboo sill. Ahma! Terry! +For the first time in his passionless life he felt the fangs of the +green-eyed monster. + +An impulse to deceive, unusual with him, hurried the Major into the +folds of his blanket before Terry entered, but by the time Terry had +thrown himself upon his couch the Major was ashamed of the duplicity +and spoke to uncover the deceit. + +"Terry, what was that infernal sound that waked me up a while ago?" + +"The gale playing on the Agong, Major." + +The Major said no more but tossed on the hard couch until daylight +shot through the trees. He rose at once and in a few minutes Terry +joined him, a little hollow-eyed with fatigue. The Major pointed at +his soiled shirt and breeches, then at the soaked leggings and shoes. + +"Man, you're a sight! Fall in the creek?" + +Terry grinned contentedly. "No. This waiting was getting +monotonous--so I fixed up a sign for them!" + +"That infernal noise, you mean?" + +"No. The wind always does that." + +"Well, what did you do?" + +Terry's grin broadened. "I'm not going to spoil it for you by telling, +but if you stick around you'll see a sizeable 'natural' phenomenon +within a day or so. In the east, too, the most favorable quarter!" + +The Major could extract nothing further from him, so desisted after an +irate: "Well, you let me in on these stunts after this. You're all +in--and here I lay sleeping all night!" + +Terry sobered. "Major, we did not need you--we got along all right." + +"We?" Heartsick, the Major sought to plunge the iron deeper. But Terry +had slipped out to clean up at the creek before the girls should come. + +That morning they noted that for the first time a number of warriors +hung around the village, watching the hut where the white men lived +with a studied insolence that proved their hostility. Pud-Pud was of +them, and loudest in his talk. At noon a large crowd had gathered, +composed of those most inimical to the strangers. + +While the two stood near the entrance to their shack watching the +eddying currents of almost naked humanity they saw Pud-Pud detach +himself from his companions and swagger toward them, spear in hand. + +The crowd watched him eagerly as he advanced to test the mettle of the +pale outlanders: Pud-Pud had boasted that he would end this suspense. + +The insolent savage advanced, stopped ten feet from them and +brandished his weapon, his attitude one of utter contempt. He spat at +them. + +Rage suffused the Major's face and his hand crept into his shirt +front, but before he could withdraw the gun Terry whispered a +restraining caution. + +"I know him, Major,--a grandstander." + +Terry stepped in front of the Major and returned the savage's stare. A +moment they battled, then the Hillman saw something in the white face +that disconcerted him, so that his offensive black eyes lost their +hint of insult, wavered, fell. As Terry moved toward him slowly, +Pud-Pud hesitated, then gave way before the stern visage of the +approaching American. + +Terry, boring him with cold gray eyes, came faster: retreating rapidly +to maintain his distance from the white man, Pud-Pud hurried his +backward pace toward the ring of silent Hillmen who watched them. +Heedless of his steps, conscious only of an overwhelming desire to +maintain a safe distance from this purposeful white man whom he had +affronted, Pud-Pud backed away, eyes fastened upon the pale avenger. + +Moving suddenly to the right, Terry forced him to alter the direction +of his hurrying footsteps. The rapid heels hit a bowlder and Pud-Pud +fell backward into one of the cooking places, his spear flying +aimlessly into the air as the sitting portions of his anatomy came +into contact with the red hot stones. + +One howl and one swift contortion of outraged flesh lifted him from +the spot and he escaped through the crowd, followed by the mocking +laughter of the Hillmen. Terry picked up the spear and crossed the +circle of savages to hand it to the largest and loudest savage in the +group to which the braggart had belonged. He looked him full in the +eye with a significance fully understood by the onlookers, then +turned his back upon him and returned to the Major. + +The Major was convulsed: "I saw what you--had in mind--when you +circled him toward it," he laughed. "It must have been hot with +nothing but a red G-string between his rump and those coals!" + +But the incident was significant of the attitude of many of the +Hillmen. Inside the hut they examined their pistols carefully, Terry +insisting that the Major take two of his extra magazines. + +The Major, in grim mood, left for a long walk. In crossing the +clearing he purposely cut straight toward a group of warriors who at +the last moment stepped sullenly aside to let him pass. Surlily +pleased with his little victory, he crossed the broad plateau and +struck down the slope, unconscious of his direction in the worried +fumbling of his problems and his hurt. He started down the first great +incline, distrait, sorely troubled. He crossed a green expanse where +grass had sprung up over the site of an abandoned clearing, and as he +reached the trees which marked its edge he was startled by the sudden +appearance of two Hillmen who stepped out to confront him, pointing +their spears toward the village in unmistakable gesture. + +As he angrily struck another course he realized for the first time how +complete his absorption in Ahma had become. He had forgotten that he +and Terry were prisoners, had lost sight of the mission that had +brought him into the Hills. + +Chastened, he slowly retraced his way to the edge of the woods and sat +down upon a windfall to think it all out. He blamed only himself. Her +interest in him, he thought dully, had been but a friendship natural +toward the friend of the one for whom she cared. Little things came +back to him: her expression when she watched Terry approach, the +sympathy that existed between them, little understandings which he had +attributed to nothing more than longer acquaintance. It suddenly +occurred to him that she had helped nurse him when he was ill. And it +came to him that he had given little thought to the days when Terry +had fought off death, had been heedless of what those days must have +been when Terry looked from the mountain deep into the valley of the +shadow, he groaned aloud. + +He shook his head, miserably: "Here I've been, mooning around like +a--like a--and left him to do all the worrying--all the planning! Last +night I slept while he--" He cursed himself for a fatuous fool. + +When he rose, the bitterness of spirit had left him, and his sacrifice +had been made, but his lips were white with suffering. + +As he neared the village his course took him about the base of the +crag, and as he rounded the western side he heard the murmur of +subdued voices. He slowed and approached cautiously. A jutting +buttress of rock masked the talkers until he was almost upon them, and +as he turned this corner he halted in a wretched pang of the jealousy +he thought he had subdued. + +Terry and Ahma sat on a bench of rock, their backs to him, unaware of +his presence. Terry's trim head was bent forward as if he studied the +western horizon; she leaned against him in gentle contact of firm +white shoulder. + +For a moment the Major's heart thumped painfully, then the confusion +of the unwitting eavesdropper compelled him to make his presence +known. He did so with that fine discrimination and artful delicacy he +summoned in times of emotional stress. + +"Hello," he said. + +Both turned, and rose, unembarrassed. Terry's welcome shone in his +face, and Ahma was radiant with a quick emotion which, true to the +traditions of those among whom she had been reared, she made no effort +to dissemble or restrain. The Major dropped his eyes before the gaze, +noting, dully, how wind and sun had faintly tanned the neck and +shoulders and limbs. Sun and wind were patent, too, in the vigor and +elasticity of the slim, loose clad form. + +"I'm teaching her English, Major," Terry said. + +For a moment she maintained her searching of the Major's averted eyes, +then spoke a word to Terry and turned to go. A few steps took her to +the buttress, where she stopped and turned her eyes full upon the +Major, and spoke in English, teasingly: + +"Hello, sir." + +The Major answered in a voice that sounded harsh in his own ears and +watched her disappear around the corner. Then he spoke to Terry +without facing him. + +"She does speak English!" + +"Not much, yet. She really meant 'good-by.'" + +They started toward the village slowly, each wrapped in his own +meditations. Passing round the eastern side of the cone, Terry halted +to gaze searchingly at the Great Agong hung over the stone platform +far overhead. Anxiety was evident in his manner as he hastened to +catch up with the Major, who had walked on. + +The throng had gathered earlier than usual, the clearing was packed +more densely than upon any previous afternoon. The two Americans +avoided the clearing, passing to their shack directly through the +woods. + +The Major dropped down on his bench and pillowed his head on what +remained of his pack, staring up at the grass roofing. Shortly the +serving woman appeared with their suppers, but neither moved, so she +placed the two bowls on the floor mat near where Terry sat and +withdrew noiselessly. + +As the sun sank below the trees, the Major stirred out of his +melancholy and twisting over on the hard cot sought the reason for +Terry's long silence. Terry sat, as always, at the top of the crude +steps, gazing over the trees. The Major was shocked at the utter +dejection of the slumped figure, the pain that showed in the set +muscles of the thin face. + +The Major sat up. "What is the matter, Terry? You aren't sick?" + +"No, Major. I'm all right." His tone was weary. + +"What is the matter! Is this suspense--" + +Terry shook his head. "No, Major. It's something else--something home. +I expected--I hoped for some news before I came up--news I did not +receive." + +A flash of memory, and the Major asked: "A cable?" + +At the bare nod of head he jumped upright and reaching into his hip +pocket brought out his purse to extract the cablegram he had brought +up but forgotten. Crossing the little room, he dropped it on Terry's +knees. + +Terry ripped open the envelope, hesitated, then unfolded the message. +And as the Major looked on, every vestige of care and patient +suffering left the white face, the wistful line was ironed from the +corner of his mouth and Terry stood up a joyous, vibrant youth. + +He had read: + + Lieut. Richard Terry, P.C. + + Davao, Mindanao, P. I. + + At last the perfect Christmas gift. Am sailing immediately + to claim it. Arriving Zamboanga January twenty-sixth with + Susan and Ellis. + + DEANE. + +He carefully refolded the sheet and placed it in his shirt pocket, +then turned to the Major, his eyes darkened with such a joy as the +Major had never seen. + +"This message will cost you a wedding present, Major!" + +"What now?" asked the Major. Things were moving too fast since he +reached the Hills. + +"It is from ... a girl. I left home--oh, foolishly. But she is on her +way over here, with my sister and brother-in-law. That's where the +present comes in!" + +"But--but--what about Ahma?" + +"Ahma?" Terry asked, in his turn astounded. In Terry's bewilderment +the Major understood that his own unhappiness had been unfounded. At +his shout of delight the Hillmen all turned toward the white men's +hut, wondering at the joyous antics of the strange pair. + +In a few minutes the Major had calmed sufficiently to discuss their +affairs. + +"But, Major," Terry asked him, "why did you think that we--Ahma and +I--that we--you know?" + +"Why, everything. I saw you leave her early this morning over there in +the woods. Then, this afternoon--the way you sat together, and--and +everything!" + +"Last night--why, she helped me fix up that 'sign' I told you about: +and to-day we were talking about you--she has asked me a million +questions about you--and about white girls. She has a jealous streak +in her--as you will learn!" + +More explanations, and Terry suddenly reverted to their plight. + +"Now everything depends upon that sign I fabricated. If it fails--or +if an unfavorable natural sign comes first.... You know I must be in +Zamboanga on the twenty-sixth, some way." + +He lapsed into reverie. The Major fidgeted, reached for his hat and +stepped to the door, a bit shamefaced. + +"Terry," he said, awkwardly, "if you don't mind I think I'll run over +toward Ahma's house. There is a lot to talk over with her now and I +guess I--" + +His words were drowned in a resounding crash that blotted out all +other sounds. The village shook with the jarring impact of some vast +missile striking near, the air filled with the roar of shattering +rock and heavy rumble of sliding earth. + +The Hillmen bounded upright at the first terrific crash and stood +transfixed, witless, superstitious fear written upon every brown face. + +A dead silence followed the dying out of the last thunderous echoes, +then a child whimpered, another, and the women took up the whining +note. A warrior, one of the sub-chiefs from a neighboring village, +raised a braceleted arm in astounded gesture toward the crag. + +"The SIGN! The SIGN!" he shouted. + +The thousand heads raised as one, and taking up the cry, surged toward +the great cone, sifting through the timber like brown seeds through a +screen. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +CIVILIZATION DAWNS IN THE HILLS + + +When the tumult had subsided, the amazed Major wheeled to face Terry's +quizzical grin. + +"Well, Major," he said, "there is their merry little 'sign'! The darn +thing worked!" + +The Major pulled him toward the door. "Come on," he exclaimed. "Let's +see what happened." + +He hurried down the short ladder ahead of Terry and raced through the +strip of woods to where the mob was packed about the base of the cone. +The Major smashed an unceremonious pathway through the brown jam and +in a moment they stood at the foot of the crest. + +A large segment of the huge pillar of rock had broken off and in +falling had carried thousands of tons of shale and eroded stone. The +immense rock, whose fracture and fall had precipitated the slide, lay +directly under the Tribal Agong, at which the Hillmen were staring up, +dumfounded. + +Following their upward gaze the Major saw that the fallen stone had +formed the platform beneath the Agong, which now pivoted on its +granite bracket over a cliff which fell sheer for hundreds of feet +before curving into the stiff slope where crag fused into tableland. +The great black gong hung directly over them. Looking closely, +Bronner saw that it swung slowly in the evening breeze, and moved by +the same impulse that had impelled him the first time he stood beneath +it, he shouldered their way through the crowd to a safer position. + +"You need not worry about its falling, Major. It will hang there for a +thousand years." + +"I know it, but it gets me just the--what's that they're yelling?" he +exclaimed, as a swelling chorus of guttural shouts rose from the +excited throng. + +"They are saying that the Tribal Agong can never be sounded +again--without the platform they can't reach it." As a new phrase was +caught up and repeated by hundreds of voices he added: "And now they +are calling for Ohto to interpret the sign!" + +Several of the older savages tore out of the densely packed throng and +sped toward Ohto's house. In a few moments one of them returned and +announced that the chieftain would arrive shortly. The two white men, +absorbed in the drama, did not notice that four of the warriors who +had summoned Ohto had returned by another path and taken up their +position behind the captives, spears in hand, grim. + +Ohto advanced slowly through the trees and emerged into the open space +about the crag. The Hillmen gave way respectfully and he walked to the +base of the cone through a wide lane opened up for his passage. Age +slowed his steps but he walked erect, his head held high in simple +dignity and gratitude for the silent homage his people offered. + +Pausing near the base he surveyed the evidences of cleavage of the +ancient rock, the tribe's historic rallying point. Then he raised his +eyes to the Agong. + +The dense circle of Hillmen bated their breath while the beloved +patriarch communed with the spirits of the long line who had heard the +happy song of the bronze-lipped gong. A deep hush pervaded the +plateau, now lighted with the last white rays of the dipping sun. + +The sage turned to his people, his furrowed face burdened with an +added melancholy. His voice came low and weak, so that the assemblage +bent forward in strained silence to hear his fateful words. Terry +gripped the Major's arm, whispering the translation. + + * * * * * + +"Listen, my children. We asked for guidance, and a sign is sent to the +east of Ohto's lodge--a happy omen. + +"The breaking of this age-old stone betokens the breaking of our +ancient custom ... no longer will we bar the stranger from the Hills +... and those who are with us now may go in peace, or stay in peace." + +He paused, and a great sigh of relieved suspense rose from the throng. +The four armed men left their position behind the two white men and +melted into the dense circle. + +Terry gave the Major's arm a last ecstatic squeeze. "It's working out +just as we planned! I'll be back soon." + +He raced through the trees toward Ohto's house, returning in a couple +of minutes to find Ohto still standing with bowed head before his +people. + +A rustle of whispers roused him, and he raised his silvered head to +behold the loveliness of his stolen foster-child. Summoned by Terry, +Ahma had come out of the shadows of the trees and stood at the forest +end of the lane made for Ohto's passage through the crowd. + +The old man extended his hand toward her in compelling gesture and she +went to him with the agile swiftness of a half-wild thing. A moment he +lightly stroked the rippling mass of hair, then he turned to his +people again. + +"Ohto said that the Tribal Agong would ring for the marriage of this +white daughter of our tribe--but now--" + +They followed his sadly expressive gaze to where the gong hung far out +over the cliff, inaccessible to human touch. + +"Daughter, it _will_ be rung for you ... somehow.... Ohto has said it. +I hope to live to hear it rung ... when you have found him who is to +share your house--and after that, I do not care." + +He paused again--lost in a patriarch's vague memories of other years. +Retrieving his vagrant thoughts, he caught the frank message of the +upturned face, a message which startled as it pleased him. + +"Ah! You have found him, then? Let him step forth." + +Ohto searched every brown face in the hushed circle, but none stepped +forward. + +Ahma slowly turned her head toward where the two white men stood +apart, her eyes fastened upon Major Bronner. Terry gently pushed him +forward. Trembling, his tanned face bloodless, the Major advanced and +took her outstretched hand. + +Ohto studied the Major, then turned to Terry. For a long moment he +searched the lad's strong face, a deep disappointment in his own, +before he again faced the two before him. + +"I had not thought of this. But it will do. It is as it should +be--white will be happier with white. But ... will she stay until Ohto +joins his fathers?" + +The Major hesitated, then answered the sadly anxious question with a +nod. He had no voice. + +"Then she is yours ... after you have found a way to ring the Tribal +Agong for her marriage. Ohto never spoke in vain. Ring the Agong +first." + +The Major's glance swept from Ahma to the lofty gong. His triumphant +joy gave way to deepest dejection. He saw no way to fulfil the chief's +requirement, and he turned despairingly to Terry, who had shouldered +through the crowd and stood beside him. + +The Hillmen had accepted Ohto's interpretation unquestioningly. Their +chief had spoken. The unexpectedness of the new phase, the avowal of +love by the tribe's adopted daughter for one of the outlanders, had +appealed to the keen sense of the dramatic that is shared by all +primitive peoples. Their brown skins coppered by the rosy glow of the +setting sun, they stood in strained suspense awaiting the climax. + +All but Pud-Pud. He jostled an avenue through the innermost ring of +Hillmen and leaped out in front of Terry, brandishing a short blow +tube he carried and laughing in shrill derision. + +"Ya, white men! Now ring the Agong! Ring the Agong and get your woman! +I saw! I watched! And I laughed because I knew the Agong would never +ring again! Yeah! Now ring it!" + +The Major was in no mood for finesse: with a vicious shove he sent the +vindictive Pud-Pud sprawling, then turned to Terry, worriedly. + +"What are we going to do?" + +Terry shook his head, at a loss. This was a contingency he had not +foreseen. He glanced penitently at the melancholy girl, at the old man +who waited, swept the circle of tense faces, then resumed his hopeless +contemplation of the gong overhead. + +Swiftly Ahma broke the tableau. Dropping the Major's hand she darted +forward to where Pud-Pud had risen to his knees, her white foot +flashing up to dash from his lips the blow tube he leveled at Terry. +The venomous dart sped aimlessly into the air and fell outside the +ring of Hillmen. + +Pud-Pud's violation of the sanctity of council roused Ohto to a wrath +terrible to see. All of the savagery, all of the unbridled fury of a +primitive, passionate nature mounted to his wrinkled face as he +pointed to the culprit with a majestic gesture that summoned the four +armed men. At a word they hustled the terror-stricken savage away to +await Ohto's judgment. + +Ahma calmly returned to the Major's side and together they resumed +their hopeless contemplation of the Agong. He peered up till his neck +ached. + +"Terry," he whispered, "to ring it you have to strike that little knob +in the center, don't you?" + +"Yes." + +Then inspiration shone in the Major's face. He eyed Terry covertly. + +"Wish we had a rifle," he suggested. + +Terry caught his meaning. He fingered his holster but shook his head. +"It can't be done, Major." + +"Sure it can--sure _you_ can! I've seen you shoot!" + +Terry shook his head but the excited Major insisted: "Try it. Rest +your gun on my head. Sure you can do it--and think what it will +mean--the Hills opened up for all time--think what it will mean to the +Governor--and to the Service!" + +The hushed crowd stiffened as they saw the two white men draw back a +hundred feet, wondered as to the character of the strange black thing +the smaller drew from his leather pocket. They watched intently, +thinking to see sorcery wrought before their eyes. + +Terry cocked the weapon and resting his wrist upon the tall Major's +head, sighted carefully. A thousand pairs of eyes focussed upon him. +Could the slim white man ring the gong by pointing a magic finger? + +The Major, braced for the shock of explosion, felt the iron wrist +tremble, grow limp and lift away. He wheeled around to find Terry +shaking his head, uncertain, faltering. He slowly holstered the gun. + +"Major, I keep thinking how I have deceived--this fine old man," he +said. + +The Major stared at him, then exploded: "By making this 'sign' that +saved your life--and mine? Sus-marie-hosep! I've heard of those New +England consciences but--Sus-marie-hosep!" + +Disgust, dismay, affection swept in succession across the Major's +countenance: affection held. He laid his hand upon Terry's shoulder as +he played his ace: + +"Terry, I thought you had a date in Zamboanga on the twenty-sixth!" + +The crowd then saw the white youth stiffen with swift decision, saw +him whirl to face the crag. For a moment he stood with eyes riveted +upon the Agong till the little knob swung toward him, then he bent +slightly at the knees and his hand swept back with a swiftness that +seemed to bring the pistol leaping to meet the extended arm. It raised +to the darkening sky, and the Hills awoke to the resounding crash of +white man's weapons. Six times Terry shot, but only the first two +reports were heard, for the others were swallowed in the booming of +the Agong. + +The sound beat down deafeningly, seemed to enfold them bodily in its +mighty volume, blotting out all else. From the sounding board of cliff +it smote upon their ears in thunderous, sustained, musical tone. +Slowly, the note lessened in volume, deepened, and tumbled down in +vibrant waves that rolled on and on. The sonorous reverberations died +out, then surged again and again in ever fainter, ever deeper tones. + +At last the air quieted, and nothing but the roaring in his ears +remained to convince the Major that the vast sound had been reality. +"Jimmy!" he exploded. "What a noise--and what shooting!" + +A whisper of awe rustled through the surrounding ranks. Ignorant of +firearms, they thought the young American wielded some uncanny power +with his black weapon. Already distinguished as the first white man to +set his foot upon Apo, he was now regarded with a feeling akin to +worship. + +Ohto was silent, lost in a protracted, inscrutable study of Terry's +face. At last the old man turned on his heels to sweep the circle of +his people for confirmation of his surmise. Satisfied, he raised his +hand for silence. + +"There has been worry ... doubt ... among you--who should take up +Ohto's burden when he lets it fall ... soon. You are entering new +times, will meet new and strange things. To Ohto it seems best that he +leave his people under the guidance of a young and strong and kind +chief who knows all these strange things ... one who can lead you +safely into the new life. What say you, my people? Who shall sit in +Ohto's chair when he is gone?" + +For a moment the multitude was silent as the significance of Ohto's +query sank into their slow minds, then a murmur of approval rose among +them, swelled into a deafening shout of acclamation. + +"The pale white man! The pale white man!" + +Terry understood. Uncertain, he turned to the Major, but Ohto +interrupted by addressing him directly. + +"You have heard. When Ohto leaves--and it can not be long--he leaves +his people in your hands. You will be patient, kindly, gentle, with +them. That Ohto knows ... it is written in your face." + +As Terry slowly bowed his head slightly in acceptance of the trust, +the delighted Hillmen stirred, whispered to each other. The hum of +voices grew louder but was instantly hushed by the dramatic gesture +with which Ohto extended his arm toward a low cotton tree that stood +at the edge of the woods. The thousand eager heads turned almost as +one. + +Upon a slender leafless branch which extended at right angles from the +trunk of a _kapok_ tree two large gray wood pigeons had perched side +by side in the close communion of mated birds, heedless of the host +below them. Unafraid, tired, content with what the day had brought +them in the lowlands, they were happy in safe return together to their +mountain home. + +In the hush which followed recognition by the throng, the limocons +moved closer to each other, wing brushed wing, sleepy lids lowered +over soft eyes to shut out the crimson glory of the dying sun. Then +the little throats throbbed as they voiced gratitude to their Creator +in gentle, low pitched notes, lilting with the joy of life, plaintive +with the brevity of its span. + +The sweet song died with the day, and as dusk reached down in brief +embrace of tropic earth, the birds winged side by side into the +darkening forest. + +Peace settled upon the face of the old man who had made decision +vitally affecting the welfare of the people over whom he had ruled for +two generations. The limocons had sung in the East. His fathers were +pleased with him. + +A shout of fierce joy burst from the Hillmen. Then the women +surrounded the dainty white girl and bore her off to prepare for the +long ceremony with which the Hill People give in marriage. And the two +friends walked through the woods, arm in arm, silent, profoundly +humble. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"SUS-MARIE-HOSEP!" + + +Terry was happily engaged in remaking the Major's old pack for his own +use when the Major entered the torchlit shack. It lacked an hour till +dawn. Outside, the main clearing was dark, but the big fires which +illuminated the surrounding trees revealed the excited natives still +celebrating Ahma's nuptials in the clearing around Ohto's house. + +Terry straightened up from his task and studied the face of his +friend: fatigue and happiness had softened the serious lines that had +given the Major an appearance of age beyond his years. + +"Major, isn't the ceremony finished yet?" + +"No, it takes forty-eight hours to get married up here--and only two +hours to get buried! But a month ago I would have said that it was +about the correct ratio, at that." + +Terry grinned as he finished the pack and threw it on the floor near +the door, then sat beside the Major on the cot. + +"Major, I want to send up a gift for Ahma by the first runner the +postoffice people send through. It's hard to decide what to give her, +because she is entirely different from other girls, and the usual +bridal gifts would hardly do. Can't you help me out?" + +For a minute the Major pondered heavily: "How about a mirror? She is +twenty years old and has never seen her own reflection." + +"Just the thing! Enter the civilizing influence of vanity in the Hill +Country!" + +Terry drew a notebook from his shirt pocket. "Major, I have jotted +down a list of things we are going to need for this work up here. I +thought it would be better if I had a definite program to submit to +the Governor, with estimate of appropriations necessary, and so on. +First I listed those things you will need in order to build and +furnish your house: cook stoves, lamps, dishes, window glass, and so +on. I think I have included everything, so just run over those things +you will need to begin this work." + +For an hour earnestly they discussed the problems the Major would +confront pending Terry's return to take up the work. They listed a +wide variety of needs--pigs, chickens, medicines, books, tools, seeds: +contingent upon the Governor's approval, they outlined several months +of planting, trail making, establishment of regular communication with +the lowlands, selection of school teachers, of a health officer--all +of the varied instruments needed for the initial work of elevating the +tribesmen out of their barbarism. + +Dawn had dimmed their torches when they finished. For a while they sat +silent, Terry happy in the outcome of this strange adventure in the +Hills, the Major thrilling with the joy that had come to him. + +The Major broke the silence: "Terry, I AM a chump! All this time I've +forgotten to tell you that a captain's commission is waiting your +acceptance in Zamboanga!" + +He went on, slowly: "Are you sure that you can come back here for a +year--after your honeymoon? Maybe she--your wife--won't wish to come." + +"Yes, she will." Terry was confident. "It will be for only one year, +and then--" + +"And then what?" the Major demanded after a while. + +"Then--back home, among my own people. I left home foolishly, Major. I +was restless--looking for a dragon to slay. But I have had a year in +which to think--and I see things differently. During the time I was +sick up here I--I ... well, I know now that a man need not cross the +world to find service: he can be just as useful in preventing bunions +as in--as in such lucky ventures as this." + +"Preventing bunions?" The Major was puzzled. + +But Terry did not answer. He had risen to finish his preparations for +the journey down. + +"Just one more thing, Terry. You promised to tell me how you started +that little avalanche--the 'sign.'" + +Something of the serenity faded from Terry's face as he turned to +explain: "I had been up there several times, and had noticed a deep +crevice that split the platform from the parent rock. It would have +fallen within a few months. I carried up some softwood wedges, drove +them into the fault, poured in a lot of water and expansion did the +rest." + +The Major visualized the toil and peril of lugging heavy logs up the +spiral trail at night. "Why didn't you let me help?" he demanded. + +"Well, Ahma kept guard for me, and that was enough. If I had been +caught I could probably have talked myself out of the scrape, but it +might have gone harder with you. Luckily the timbers I used for wedges +were buried in the slide." + +The Major's face clouded swiftly: "Say, Terry! That scoundrel Pud-Pud +said that he saw you that night--he can ruin the thing yet if he +talks!" + +Terry shook his head, a little sorrowfully: "No, Pud-Pud will never +talk to anybody about anything again. I got to Ohto too late: they had +already executed sentence." + +"What did they do with him?" + +"Shot him full of darts and turned him loose in the Dark Forest. So I +confessed to Ohto that I contrived the 'sign.' Of course I made him +understand that you had nothing to do with the--trickery." + +"What did he say--what is he going to do about it?" The Major was +anxious. + +"He had known about it all the time--his men have trailed every step +we have taken, watched everything we have done." + +A slow blush mounted the Major's rugged features as he thought of the +possibility that secret onlookers had witnessed his meeting with Ahma +just before the wedding ceremony when he had sought to teach her the +White Man's customs of caress. The flush persisted as he turned to +Terry. + +"There's one thing I forgot to ask you to buy for me. I want a good +talking machine, with plenty of records." He paused, then continued +abstractedly: "She can keep it in her house." + +Terry looked up in astonishment. "In _her_ house? Aren't you both +going to live in the same house?" + +"No. Not till you send a missionary up here to marry us. I don't +figure that two days of savage rites constitutes a marriage--but I'm +going to have a deuce of a time trying to explain it to Ahma!" + +Terry nodded sympathetically and walked the springy floor a dozen +times, nonplussed by the Major's dilemma. Pausing in his preoccupation +before the open window he noted vaguely that the nuptial fires were +yellowing before the approach of dawn: a moment and he started +violently as the solution struck him and he whirled upon the dejected +groom with beaming countenance. + +"Say!" he shouted, "I'm certainly not going down with you two only +half-married--she a bride and you not a groom! You forget that as +Senior Inspector of Constabulary I am an ex-officio Justice of the +Peace! Come on!" + +He lifted the Major by the arm and shot him through the doorway with +an exuberant shove that left him no alternative save a jarring leap to +the ground. Terry landed beside him as light as a cat, and catching +him by the elbow he hurried him on through the woods and into the +fading light of the big fires that burned before Ohto's house. + +Terry, his eyes dancing joyously, broke up the dance with which a +hundred Hill People were keeping the ceremonial pot boiling, and +despatched two women to fetch the bride, who had sought a brief +respite from the interminable ritual. Shortly Ahma appeared before +them, her dark eyes shadowed with fatigue, but radiant with +exaltation. + +Understanding from Terry's few words that the Major desired that they +be united also in accordance with the rites of his own people, she +stepped quietly before Terry and took the Major's outstretched hand. +The crowd of natives, who had crowded about them, waited the alien +ritual curiously. + +Ahma was clad in the white costume in which the Major had first seen +her. A scarlet hibiscus blossom, the Hillmen's nuptial flower, was +thrust in her black hair, but there was no other addition to her scant +covering. + +Possessed of a sudden spirit of banter Terry turned to the Major: +"Before I begin, Major, I wish to congratulate you upon having won to +the bliss of matrimony without violating that bachelor formula which +you so often boasted." + +"What formula?" + +Terry's voice deepened in mimicry: "'No petticoats for mine!'" + +A moment he enjoyed the Major's embarrassment, then composed himself +to the business in hand, happy, confident. + +But--the competent Terry fumbled. Swept away in the exuberance of +having found a way out for the Major, he had forgotten that, never +having exercised his legal privilege of joining in marriage in a +province where all of the natives were either Catholic or Mohammedan, +he was wanting in the phraseology the ceremony demanded. + +Vainly he sought inspiration in a sky chill with the pale lights of +daybreak. He shuffled his feet nervously, scowled at the ring of +brown-skinned spectators, looked at his watch. As the sweat of worry +appeared upon his white forehead he drew his handkerchief and wiped +his face vigorously, then blew his nose resoundingly. This last device +seemed to serve. + +He turned to the serene couple who waited patiently: "Do you, John +Bronner, take this woman, Ahma--Ahma of the Hills, to be your lawful +wedded wife, to love and cherish and to--er--provide for?" + +"I do," said the Major. He was proud of Terry--trust the Constabulary +to see a thing through! + +Terry was triumphant in his success. He unconsciously drew up his +slim, muscular figure as he turned to the bride, focussing his gaze +upon the blossom in the waves of jet locks that tumbled smoothly about +the downcast head. + +"And do you, Ahma of the Hills, take this man, John Bronner, to be +your wedded lawful husband, to love and to--er--care for when +he--er--is sick?" + +She caught the groom's whispered instructions and grasped the +wonderful import of the unknown words that Terry had spoken. Twice her +silent lips formed the two words of response in soundless practice, +then she looked up squarely into Terry's eyes and pronounced them. + +"I do." + +Either the clear voice was too rich with gladness, or else she should +not have turned the starry eyes so suddenly upon him. Lost for a long +moment in the splendor of the vision opened up to him, he forced +himself back to the duty of the minute. But he was off the track +again. + +He floundered for an opening. Bits of biblical and legal phrases +raced through his tortured brain, but none seemed appropriate to this +situation. The haunt of the dark eyes obscured his vision, the limpid +"I do," filled his ears. "I do." The significance of the words brought +him back to the point of interruption, and he turned to them, +desperate, vague. + +"You do? You do, eh--you both do ... well, ... join hands! I do say +and declare this twenty-third day of January that you are man and wife +in accord with the law of this land, and now--" + +He glared at the grinning beneficiary of the service, and finished: +"And now--and now what I--what God and I have joined let no man put +asunder ... till death do us part ... so help me God, Amen!" + +In an agony of torment he ripped through the crowd and raced to the +shack, where the Major joined him after taking Ahma into Ohto's house. +It was now broad daylight, and the huts were emptying of the crowd +waking to take up the burden of fiesta. + +Terry buckled up his pack, joining in the Major's mirth. + +"But you are married all right. I will send you up a certificate as +soon as I reach Zamboanga, all signed and sealed and everything." + +They became serious in thought of imminent separation. Now that the +time had come Terry dreaded leaving his friend alone in the Hills. + +"I will relieve you in three months, Major," he said. + +"You needn't hurry--don't forget I'm on a honeymoon, too!" + +Terry hesitated, then risked the question that had been bothering +him: "After we come--what are you going to do? Will Ahma be ready to +go below?" + +"No, she will not. I am figuring on leaving her here a few +months--your wife can teach her to--to dress, and all that. And I +can't take her away so long as Ohto lives. After that, I want to take +her to the States. She learns fast, Terry,--and I want her to see +Europe--she will learn a lot there, too!" + +The old woman brought them their breakfast. The Major hurried through +the meal and left to secure a guide to take Terry down, explaining +that he would join him in the woods. Terry ate under the sorrowing +eyes of the faithful woman, and when he finished he presented her with +the only gaud that remained to him, the gold medallion from his fob. +She scurried out to display it, the proudest woman, save one, in all +the Hills. + +Slinging the pack across his shoulders he turned for a last look at +the little hut that had sheltered him. Within its cramped walls he had +suffered, had known grave peril, and great joy. A hint of the old +wistfulness flickered about the corner of his mouth, then he left the +hut and strode through the clearing into the woods, halting to wave +cheerfully at the Hillmen who somberly watched the departure of their +future chief. + +He dipped over the edge of the plateau and found the Major awaiting +him with Ahma and the young warrior who was to guide him down. From +where they stood at the edge of a wide glade they could see far down +over the tops of the trees that matted the slope. In the clear morning +air the mists which gleamed over the distant Gulf shone white as +billowed snow. There lay Davao! Davao, then Zamboanga, then--! A +fiercely glad light blazed in Terry's gray eyes, then darkened in +anticipation of leaving the Major alone and with that melancholy with +which all men face the knowledge that even as Life turns the pages of +existence into its happiest chapter, she closes each finished page +forever. + +The Major spoke first. "This guide knows the shortest route. He will +take you safe past all the man traps--you should sleep but one night +on the trail. Give my regards to Lindsey, Sears,--everybody." + +Ahma looked from one to the other, not quite understanding what they +said, but understanding fully what they did not say. That showed in +the face of each. + +"Major, I have never said anything about your--how I feel about your +risking the Hills to search for me, when it meant almost certain +death." + +Death!... For an instant the Major again stood helpless in the dark +woods behind Lindsey's plantation embraced in coils of steel that +quivered, and heard the crash of delivering shots.... He searched the +white face, in which the lines of suffering from a chivalrously +contracted fever still lingered. An extraordinary warm cataract +suddenly obscured his vision. + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" he spluttered. "Good-by." + +Their hands gripped hard in an abiding friendship, then Terry turned +to Ahma doubtfully, at a loss as to how to bid adieu to this creature +of the Hills who knew so few of the white man's words or usages. He +found, too, a source of embarrassment in her new capacity of wife. As +she gazed up at him he looked away in boyish confusion. + +The Major grasped the situation and addressed her very slowly in +English: "Ahma, say good-by to him." + +As she nodded brightly, understanding, the Major turned to Terry as +proud as Punch: "You see--she is learning fast! Can't you imagine her, +all dressed up and everything, in Europe?" + +Terry focussed his eyes safely upon the white line that marked the +part in her hair, and carefully pronounced each English word. + +"Ahma, I am leaving for a while. Understand?" + +She bobbed the dark head: "I do," she said. + +The memories wrought by the limpid "I do" were a bit unsettling. He +addressed the jet locks again: "Good-by." + +She looked at the capable hand he extended toward her, puzzled at the +gesture, then looked at the Major. He said a single word in dialect +and her small white teeth glistened in a smile of comprehension. She +approached close to Terry. + +"I know. You say--good-night. I know how--to good-night." + +Her concentration upon the unaccustomed pronunciations was bewitching. +To relieve the strain of embarrassment he felt in her closeness to +him, he turned to the grinning Major. + +"As you say--she _does_ learn quickly," he offered, rather vaguely. + +She came closer still. "Yes, I know--how to--good-night!" she trilled: +"Good-night is kiss!" + +She called it "Keez" but Terry understood. If he did not then he did +an instant later when he felt the clasp of warm round arms, the +molding pressure of a soft form and the swift impress of full +sensitive lips. + +Loosed, he straightened up. His blush was explosive. Bewildered, he +shrugged the light pack higher on his shoulders and gestured his +readiness to the warrior who had stood watching the inexplicable ways +of these strange white folk. + +Following the Hillman, Terry set off across the glade. Midway down the +green sward he wheeled. + +"I should say she DOES learn fast!" he called. "You won't need to take +HER to Europe!" + +The two stood watching him as he followed the powerful little savage. +As the forest swallowed up the slim form the Major blinked rapidly, +and gripped the little hand he held. + +"Sus-marie-hosep!" he exclaimed huskily. "But won't they be glad to +see him in Davao! And in Zamboanga!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE FOX SKIN + + +Terry pushed the hardy Hillman to his limit, so that when night fell +they were far down among the foothills, the Dark Forest behind them. +At daylight the Hillman was proudly mounting homeward, Terry's belt +tightly buckled about his naked trunk. The white man's last +dispensable possession had gone as a reward for the service. + +Terry's joyous urge carried him swiftly, so that in an hour he dropped +out of the foothills and into the heat of the jungled lowlands. At +noon he climbed Sears' steps and dropped into a porch chair, his +clothes wet with perspiration and torn by contact with brush and +thorn, for he had cut straight through the woods. + +He had nearly emptied Sears' water bottle when he saw the big planter +coming out of a wonderful growth of hemp. Sears advanced slowly, deep +in thought, not looking up till he had mounted the last step. At sight +of Terry's grinning features he recoiled violently, then as the lad +rose, he jumped forward to wring his hand furiously. Incapable of +coherent speech for several minutes, he at last mastered his vocal +cords. + +"Man! I thought you were a ghost!" he cried. + +Terry sketched his journey into the Hills, and added a brief account +of the experiences he and the Major had undergone. Learning that the +Major was also safe, Sears called a Bogobo boy and issued instructions +that sent him scurrying into one of the Bogobo huts. In a few minutes +he returned bearing a small agong and striker. + +Under Sears' directions he hung it upon a pole in front of the house +and struck it sharply, again and again. As the deep notes carried out +through the still, hot woods Sears motioned to him to desist and +turned to Terry. + +"Listen!" he exclaimed, intent, his hand on Terry's shoulder. + +In a moment another agong, somewhere close to the south, sounded +several times, then another further away, then another, another. Soon +the noon stillness of the brush pulsed with the mystic multi-tones of +scores of far agongs rung from plantations. Slowly the murmur grew as +hundreds of agongs rung by Bogobos in the foothills took up the +signal, flooding the hemplands with a glad, bronze chorus. + +Sears gripped Terry's shoulder hard, his eyes brimming. + +"That's the signal we fixed up," he said. "Welcome home!" + +He hovered over Terry, questioning, commenting, incredulous over the +Major's marriage, overjoyed that the quinine he had given Terry had +been a factor in his recovery. After lunch Terry borrowed Sears' best +pony and rode away with the planter's profane benedictions in his +ears. + +He rode hard, but each familiar landmark, each twist in trail, each +sight of river, each expanse of glistening hemp plants, thrilled him +with a sense of homecoming. Once, drawing up to cool and water his +pony, he caught the sparkle of the sunny Gulf, his nostrils sensed its +tang, and with the surge of thanksgiving for the wonderful good +fortune that had attended him, he first realized the strain of the +past weeks. + +Great as was his hurry to reach Davao--an hour's tardiness might mean +the loss of the weekly steamer--he spent a half-hour with Lindsey, who +had ridden out to the trail in the hope of intercepting him. From +Lindsey he learned more of the suspense that had hung over the Gulf +since his disappearance, the deep anxiety that had spread among the +Bogobos and silenced every agong in the foothills. + +"And Terry--the night the Giant Agong rang up there--we most went +crazy!" + +"We wondered if you heard it, Lindsey." + +"Heard it! Heard it? It reached clear over on the East Coast. Boynton +heard it over there." + +Terry pressed on. Three miles below he found Casey was out to meet +him, and further on, Burns. At four o'clock he dismounted to greet +some Bogobos whom he overtook on the trail. Pushing Sears' little +brown hard, he rode into Davao at five o'clock. + +The plaza was crowded. Warned of his coming by the agong chorus, the +whole town had turned out, Americans, Filipinos, Chinese, several +Spaniards and Moros. The sleepy, dusty square waked to their noisy +welcome. + +"_El Solitario!! El Conquistador del Malabanan!_" + +Laughing, misty eyed with the warmth of their greeting, he stood in +the center of the jostling crowd, shaking hands, calling each white, +native and Mongolian by name. Then the Macabebes claimed him and swept +him into the privacy of the cuartel. + +The jealous Matak had waited till Terry entered the house that his +welcome might be unshared. + +"Master, I know you come back. All time I know," he assured him +gravely, then looked him over and sent out for the barber. Solemn and +efficient as ever, he hustled his master under the shower, helped him +into the first starched clothes he had known in five weeks, then went +into the kitchen to frighten the cook into greater haste in +preparation of dinner. + +Barber shears, soap and clean linens restored Terry to his usual +nattiness, and he delighted the cook with the zest with which he +approached a good dinner after the weeks of the crude and +undiversified fare of the Hillmen. Halfway through dinner he beckoned +to Matak who stood with folded arms near the kitchen door as matter of +fact as though the routine of the household had never been disturbed. + +"Matak, when is the mail boat due?" + +"She come this morning, go noontime." + +And this was the twenty-fourth. Terry's keen disappointment was +apparent to the watchful Moro. + +"Master, you want go to Zamboanga?" he said. + +"Yes. I must go as soon as possible, Matak." + +"Take little boat Major come in. She still here." + +Terry jumped up from the dinner table and hurried to the dock and +found the speedboat tied up alongside. After a hurried conference with +Adams he raced back to the house, where the forehanded Matak was +already packing his bags. Terry added a steamer trunk which held his +civilian clothes, and as dusk fell master and man stepped aboard the +frail craft. Adams was ready. A sharp thrust of foot quickened the +engine into life, and they swung in a short circle. Straightening, +motors roaring, the stern sucked deep as they sped in swift flight +into the south. + +From his seat in the stern Terry watched the light fade out of the +western sky. The stars invaded the deserted field and dimly outlined +the rim of the mountains, a smooth line save where Apo reared high in +the west. For a moment the dark peak seemed lonely to him, but he knew +that the Major was happy on the pine clad height.... After Ohto's +passing, his own responsibility, the guidance of a child-tribe, would +be a heavy one ... a year of that, perhaps, and then--but first ... +his heart throbbed in vivid realization of all that awaited him in +Zamboanga. + +Adams hovered about his engines, happy in Terry's return and in this +opportunity to render him service. Matak stretched out on a cross +seat, unhappy in the deafening roar of the motors and the rhythmic +rise and fall of the speeding craft in the smooth landswells. + +As they rounded Sarangani in the middle of the calm moonlit night +Adams left the cockpit long enough to cover Terry with a thick +blanket, for he had succumbed to the monotonous chorus of the motors +and the lull of the bewitching night at sea. + +As the calm weather held, Adams steered straight for Zamboanga, +putting out to sea in the little motorboat. When Terry woke Basilan +was in sight, and at five o'clock they rushed down the tidal current +of the Straits and eased into the slip alongside the dock. + +Adams, grimy, worn with his long vigil, grinned contentedly under +Terry's warm thanks. Leaving Matak to secure a bullcart to transport +his luggage to the Major's house Terry hurried down the dock and +entered the Government Building. The clerks had left for the day but +at Terry's knock the Governor himself threw wide the door. + +Profound thankfulness lit Mason's intellectual face. Grasping Terry's +hand he led him into the office. + +"And the Major?" he questioned. + +"Well--and very happy, sir!" + +Keen-eyed, observant, in the moment of welcome the Governor had sensed +the new Terry, read the new contentment and confidence manifest in his +face and bearing. + +In a few minutes Terry had sketched his experiences to his eager +auditor. The Governor contented himself with a bare outline, though +his eyes glistened. The Hills opened! + +"Captain Terry," he said, "come in to-morrow and tell me the +details--I will give you the entire morning. To-morrow I will try to +tell you how happy I am in your safe return, and in the service you +have rendered this Government." + +He rose, beaming with the news it was his privilege to impart. + +"You had best run along now, Captain. You will find three +anxious--friends--awaiting you at the Major's house. They expected to +arrive to-morrow but caught the transport and docked yesterday. They +will be relieved to see you, for I had to tell them something of the +uncertainty we felt regarding your--whereabouts. Take my car, and run +along!" + +And Terry ran along! He flew down the steps and into the automobile +and in three minutes was leaping up the stairway into the Major's +house. + +Ellis, fatter, somehow absurd in tropic whites, met him at the +entrance. Meeting halfway around the world from where they had parted, +choking with the end of the dread suspense into which the Governor's +guarded references to Terry's disappearance had plunged him, Ellis' +big heart thumped in glad relief, but true to the traditions of his +lifetime environment he strove to repress it, to appear as casual as +though they had been in daily association. Pumping Terry's hand +spasmodically, he measured the ecstatic lad with extravagant care, +studied him from crown to heel. + +"Dick, how do you do it?" he asked. + +"Do what, Ellis?" Terry's voice was unsteady, too. + +"Keep so fit in this oven of a country--you're as hard as nails!" + +Terry's unsteady laugh rang through the big bungalow: "Go on, you +fakir--you're crying right now!" + +Ellis was. He turned away as Susan rushed out of an adjoining room. +Laughing, sobbing, she threw herself upon her brother, held him away +to study his appearance, hugged him tighter, pouring out a volume of +questions she offered him no opportunity to answer. + +Five minutes, and she recovered sufficient reason to catch the +significance of Ellis' vehement gestures toward the second of the row +of four bedrooms that opened off the sala. Understanding, she left +Terry and followed Ellis into their room, closing the door with a bang +intended as a signal to another who listened. + +Terry waited, idly stroking the long frond of an air plant that hung +in the wide window near where he stood. He wondered, vaguely, that he +should be so collected, almost unconcerned, in the face of what +awaited him. He saw the door open slowly, wider, then arrest as if the +hand on the knob had faltered, and in the instant his self-possession +deserted him. + +His heart skipped a beat, then accelerated into a heavy thumping that +seemed to fill the room with pulsing muffled roar. He moistened his +lips as the door moved again, opened wide. + +Deane stepped into the room, pale, her wide blue eyes fixed upon him. +Slender, rounded, white of arm and throat, she had fulfilled +gloriously all of the fair promise of her youth. The rich heritage of +womanhood had stamped the softly curved form and the sweetly pensive +face. Virginal, she was a mother of men. + +He faced her from the window, powerless to move, to speak, but there +was that in his eyes that made words unnecessary. Scarce breathing, +atremble, she saw the steady gray eyes blaze with a light no other had +ever seen, ever would see. + +To him she suddenly became unreal, and his mind reverted to another +hour when they had stood facing each other. Again she stood before +him in the dimlit hall, sobbing, and with the memory came a surging +realization of what he might have lost. Unconsciously his last words +to her, spoken that Christmas night, sprang brokenly to his lips as he +held out his arms: + +"Don't wait, Deane-girl, don't wait." + +With the sudden deepening of the wistful lines of his mouth she felt a +burning rush of tears, and at his words she crossed to him, starry +eyed, full red lips aquiver. + +There never was a merrier party of four than theirs that night. The +questions flew back and forth, answers clipped short by new and more +pressing queries. Ellis and Susan were full of the newcomers' interest +in the country, its peoples and customs. Deane, quieter, was +interested most in Terry's work, in Davao, in the story of the Hills. +Terry learned of the home friends. Father Jennings, Doctor Mather, Mr. +Hunter, a score of others, had sent messages to him. Deane had brought +special greetings from his friends on the Southside, and a garish +picture of little Richard Terry Ricorro. Half of her larger trunk was +filled with silver and linens which had poured in when news of the +purpose of her journey had sifted through Crampville. + +They were seated on the cool veranda at coffee when the Governor's car +drew up outside the gate, and the chauffeur entered with a note. + + Dear Captain Terry: + + This car is yours throughout the stay of your--will not the + word "family" soon properly cover all three of them? + + Please use it freely. I have another entirely suited for my + present needs. + + I am very happy to-night, happy in your safe return and in + the achievement you have wrought in the name of the + Government it is my unmerited privilege to head. And this + happiness will be the greater for knowing that you are + driving through this glorious evening by the side of her who + came so far to join her life with yours. + + MASON. + +After Terry had read the note aloud Deane added her pleas to his that +Susan and Ellis should share the car with them. But they would have +none of it. When Susan wavered, Ellis became emphatic. + +So the two rode through the tropic night alone, that night and during +the glorious evenings that followed for a week. They came to know +every village along the ribboned roads, each grove of tall palms, each +stretch of beach where smooth highways ran along the coast. She loved +the island empire. + +They talked as such do talk. The third night, as they rolled through +the moonlight down the San Ramon road, he found courage to broach the +one subject he had hesitated to mention. + +"The Governor wants me to stay a year," he faltered. "A year up in the +Hills." + +She had expected it, was ready. She looked full up at him, and in the +soft light her lovely face shone with a strange beauty that humbled +him. + +"Dick, 'and thy people shall be my people.'" + + * * * * * + +They planned their house in the Hills, bought and stored picturesque +odds and ends of furniture and fittings; brasses, embroideries, +carved teak: and he outlined their honeymoon, which was to be a +three-months' ramble through Japan, the magic lover's land. They +arranged no exact itinerary, just a wandering through Miajima, Kyoto, +Nikko,--a score of out of the way places. + +The mornings he spent with the enthusiastic Governor, planning, +discussing. Two tons of supplies went out to the Major the fourth day. + +"I put in an assortment of presents for him to give to the Hillmen," +the Governor told him. "And plenty of matches--you say they went wild +over those he packed up. They will be rich!" + +"Governor, the Hillmen are the richest people I have ever seen." + +The Governor was puzzled: "How?" + +"They have everything they want. Land for the clearing, a spear, +cotton growing wild on trees for such clothes as they wear, meat in +the forest, bamboo to cut for shelter against wind and rain, upland +rice springing up from barely scratched soils. No social striving, no +politics, no taxes. All their wants are satisfied--was Croesus as +rich?" + +"Then you do not believe in civilizing them--it means introducing new +wants--some of which they never will satisfy!" + +"Yes, I do, Governor. Civilization means doctors, less suffering, +longer life: schools and books: agriculture and better diet: commerce +and clothes: churches, and morality--and soap!" + +The day came when Terry and Deane drove down the San Ramon road where +the Governor had preceded them, with Ellis and Susan and a score of +the new friends they had made in Zamboanga. Wade had insisted that his +spacious bungalow be the scene of their wedding. + +Even before he had wrought the house into a fairy-land of palm and +cadena and hibiscus the great flowered sweeps of lawn and grove set by +the sea had been an ideal setting. Ellis, given his choice of +functions, had elected to officiate as best man, so the Governor was +happy in giving the bride away. Susan cried, as matrons of honor +always do, as she stood with them in the fret-work of shadows under +the palms which stirred gently in the off-sea breeze. + +None of those most concerned remembered many of the details of the +evening, excepting Matak, who met there a young Moro maid and found +her fair. + +They returned to Zamboanga under enchanting stars, and at nine o'clock +they saw Ellis and Susan leave, for they were returning home at once +through the Suez, taking steamer first for Borneo and Java. Their own +boat left an hour later for Manila, Hong Kong and Nagasaki. + +Bidding Ellis good-by, Terry woke from the dream in which he had moved +through the afternoon. + +"Ellis, do not sell the shoe store. We may be home in a year, and I'll +want to pitch into something." + +"But you'd never fool with that after--after all this over here!" + +Terry laughed happily: "You never can tell, Ellis. I am learning +lessons every day!" + +Later, Ellis sought to dry Susan's tears. "Dick, you're a fine lover! +After all these years of search for things for Deane you failed to +give her a wedding gift!" + +Terry flushed miserably, for it was true. But Deane thrilled the more +happily for the utter absorption in her that had expelled all other +things from his mind: she knew that Susan had prompted him to both +engagement and wedding rings. + +From the pier they watched Ellis and Susan at the rail till the +altering course of the brilliantly lighted steamer swept them from +sight. + +An hour later their own liner carried them northward through the dark +Straits. + +The deck was deserted, dark. They sat close, in long steamer chairs, +watching the mysterious coastline of Mindanao, the shadowy masses of +distant mountains that seemed less substance than opaque obstruction +of the warm, starry sky. Neither spoke. It was the hour of fullest +gratitude, of mutual dedication. The night about them was filled with +that humming heard only on a big ship plowing through a calm sea after +sundown, the drone of light winds through lofty rigging, the heavy +slipping of displaced water, the muffled roar of great engines +throbbing in the deep hold. + +Eight bells rang the midnight hour. Deane rose, whispering that she +had a few things to unpack, bidding him come in ten minutes. Leaning +over him, she smoothed his hair lightly with her two hands, curling +about her fingers the obstinate scalp lock that always would stand +forth from his crown. Reaching up, he took her cool hands and held +them tightly against his cheeks. Releasing her, he watched the +progress of the buoyant form down the long deck, his soul lit with the +flame that warms all mankind. + +The moon, in its last quarter, peered over the dark rim of the +mountains. When its lower tip cleared, he rose. + +When he joined her in their stateroom, her eyes filled happily as she +watched the fine, white face. + +The fox skin lay on the cabin floor before her berth. + + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + * * * * * + +[Transcriber's Notes: + +Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as +possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and other +inconsistencies. The transcriber made the following changes to the +text to correct obvious errors: + +1. p. 70, "Sear interrupted" changed to "Sears interrupted" +2. p. 81, "wierd-shaped" changed to "weird-shaped" +3. p. 96, "guaged" changed to "gauged" +4. p. 189, "move toward the fringe" changed to "moved toward the fringe" +5. p. 200, "spit into two factions" changed to "split into two factions" +6. p. 207, "beneath their eerie" changed to "beneath their aerie" +7. p. 219, "the swind swept crag" changed to "the wind swept crag" + +End of Transcriber's Notes] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Terry, by Charles Goff Thomson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TERRY *** + +***** This file should be named 20563.txt or 20563.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/5/6/20563/ + +Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Richard J. Shiffer +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of +public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital +Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/20563.zip b/20563.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4507e11 --- /dev/null +++ b/20563.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7b2ca6f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #20563 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/20563) |