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+margin-bottom: 2em; +} + +.figureHead, .noteref, span.leftnote, p.legend, .versenum +{ +color: #001FA4; +} + +.rightnote, .pagenum, .linenum, .pagenum a +{ +color: #AAAAAA; +} + +a.hidden:hover, a.noteref:hover +{ +color: red; +} + + +</style></head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Piang the Moro Jungle Boy, by +Florence Partello Stuart + +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: The Adventures of Piang the Moro Jungle Boy + A Book for Young and Old + +Author: Florence Partello Stuart + +Release Date: August 26, 2007 [EBook #22407] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES OF PIANG *** + + + + +Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ from scans made +available by Google Books. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="front"><div class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><p class="aligncenter">The Adventures of + +</p> +<p class="aligncenter">Piang + +</p> +<p class="aligncenter">The Moro Jungle Boy + + +</p> +</div> +<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><p></p> +<div id="d0e86" class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p000.jpg" alt="Slowly he swam downward, conscious of a large body moving near him" width="384" height="512"><p class="figureHead">Slowly he swam downward, conscious of a large body moving near him</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +</div> +<div class="titlePage"> +<h1 class="docTitle">The Adventures of</h1> +<h1 class="docTitle"></h1> +<h1 class="docTitle">Piang<br> +The Moro Jungle Boy +</h1><br><h1 class="docTitle">A Book for Young and Old</h1> +<h2 class="byline">By + +<span class="docAuthor">Florence Partello Stuart</span> +<br> +Illustrated By +<span class="docAuthor">Ellsworth Young</span></h2> +<h2 class="docImprint">New York<br> +The Century Co. +1917 +</h2> +</div><div class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><p class="aligncenter">Copyright, 1917, by <span class="smallcaps">The Century Co.</span> + +</p> +<p class="aligncenter">Copyright, 1916, by <br><span class="smallcaps">David C. Cook Publishing Company</span> <br>Copyright, 1917, Boys’ Life <br><span class="smallcaps">The Boy Scouts Magazine</span> + +</p> +<p class="aligncenter"><i>Published September, 1917</i> + +</p> +</div> +<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><p class="aligncenter">To<br> +“Buddy” + +</p> +</div> +<div id="d0e149" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">Contents</h2> +<ul> +<li>I <span class="smallcaps"><a href="#d0e305">The Charm Boy</a></span> 6 + +</li> +<li>II <span class="smallcaps"><a href="#d0e479">The Floating Island</a></span> 32 + +</li> +<li>III <span class="smallcaps"><a href="#d0e591">The Hermit of Ganassi Peak</a></span> 51 + +</li> +<li>IV <span class="smallcaps"><a href="#d0e830">The Fire Tree</a></span> 78 + +</li> +<li>V <span class="smallcaps"><a href="#d0e1109">Riding the Cataract</a></span> 108 + +</li> +<li>VI <span class="smallcaps"><a href="#d0e1229">The Jungle Menace</a></span> 129 + +</li> +<li>VII <span class="smallcaps"><a href="#d0e1474">The Secret of the Source</a></span> 157 + +</li> +<li>VIII <span class="smallcaps"><a href="#d0e1749">The Juramentado Gunboat</a></span> 193 + +</li> +<li>IX <span class="smallcaps"><a href="#d0e2088">The Bichara</a></span> 223 + +</li> +<li>X <span class="smallcaps"><a href="#d0e2418">Piang’s Triumph</a></span> 251 +</li> +</ul></div> +<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">List of Illustrations</h2> +<ul> +<li><a href="#d0e86">Slowly he swam downward, conscious of a large body moving near him</a> <i>Frontispiece</i> + + +</li> +<li><a href="#d0e399">Rising to his feet, spear poised, he waited</a> 17 + +</li> +<li><a href="#d0e498">His hands closed over something</a> 36 + +</li> +<li><a href="#d0e747">On its neck it supported a weird creature</a> 70 + +</li> +<li><a href="#d0e925">“The boom! We must cut it!”</a> 87 + +</li> +<li><a href="#d0e1192">With hands outstretched above his head, he waited for the great moment</a> 122 + +</li> +<li><a href="#d0e1317">Piang reached up on tiptoe to pluck a ripe mango</a> 139 + +</li> +<li><a href="#d0e1410">Gracefully the little slave-girl eluded Piang and Sicto</a> 149 + +</li> +<li><a href="#d0e1560">Over and over they rolled, splashing and fighting</a> 167 + +</li> +<li><a href="#d0e1950">A shrill whistle echoed through the forest</a> 210 + +</li> +<li><a href="#d0e2145">“Juramentado! Gobernado!” faintly whispered Piang</a> 227 + +</li> +<li><a href="#d0e2500">The water spout caught the eggshell praus in its toils</a> 261 +</li> +</ul><a id="d0e272"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e272">1</a>]</span><p class="aligncenter">The Adventures of Piang<br> +The Moro Jungle Boy + + + + +<a id="d0e277"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e277">2</a>]</span> + + +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="line" style=""><span>“Do you know the fragrant stillness of the orchid scented glade, </span></p> +<p class="line" style=""><span>Where the blazoned, bird-winged butterflies flap through?”</span></p> +</div> +</div><a id="d0e284"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e284">3</a>]</span></div> +<div class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="normal">The Adventures of Piang<br> +The Moro Jungle Boy +</h2> +<p>Piang is a real boy. Dato Kali Pandapatan is a real Moro chief. The Moro is not a Filipino. + +</p> +<p>When I returned from my life among the natives of the lower Philippines, I was appalled to find that America was not only +ignorant of, but entirely indifferent to our colonies across the seas. The general impression seemed to be that Manila was +a delightful Spanish city, and that Manila was the Philippines. That there are several thousand little islands in the Philippine +group, each harboring its distinct tribe, each with its own dialect and religion, was entirely unknown. Impressed by the nobility +of the Moro in contrast to the other tribes of the archipelago, by his unfortunate treatment and his possibilities for development, +I found myself taking up his cause, <a id="d0e294"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e294">4</a>]</span>and was repaid by intense interest wherever I launched forth on my pet subject. I was so successful that gradually I began +to idealize the Moro, weaving around him, not the “might have beens,” but the “might be’s.” Hence, “The Adventures of Piang.” + +</p> +<p>Many of our military heros of other days share the honors with Piang; their exploits and privations are a romance in themselves, +and among these pages the army and navy will recognize stories that have long since become history. I am indebted to Dean +Worcester for statistics and a great deal of information on the origin and development of the Moro. Indeed some of Piang’s +adventures are actual incidents of Dean Worcester’s travels. Robinson and Foreman have given me much material, and I find +their books authentic and true chronicles of the Malay people. But most of all I am indebted to that great and wise man, Colonel +John P. Finley, United States Army, who during his term as civil governor of the Moro provinces, did more to help a down-trodden +people than any Christian who has ever attempted to bring them to the true light. +<a id="d0e298"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e298">5</a>]</span></p> +<p>Anticipating carping criticisms from geographic purists, the author is ready to admit taking liberties with longitudes and +latitudes, juggling lakes and mountains to the envy of Atlas, in order to serve the picturesque and romantic purposes of Piang. + +</p> +<p>Some of the stories in this volume appeared in the juvenile magazines, “St. Nicholas,” “What To Do,” and “Boys’ World,” and +are reprinted through the courtesy of the editors. + + + +</p> +</div> +</div><a id="d0e303"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e303">6</a>]</span><div class="body"> +<div id="d0e305" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="label">First Adventure</h2> +<h2 class="normal">The Charm Boy</h2> +<p>In the warm Celebes Sea, four hundred miles south of Manila, lies the romantic, semi-mysterious island of Mindanao, home of +the Moro. For three centuries Spain struggled to subjugate this fierce people, with little or no success, and she turned them +over to America with a sigh of relief. Perpetual warfare is the pastime of the Moro; it is his sport, his vocation; and the +Mother Jungle hurls a livelihood at his feet. Food, clothing, shelter are his birthright. + +</p> +<p>One of the most powerful tribes of Moroland is ruled by Dato (chief) Kali Pandapatan. Far up in the hills dwells this powerful +clan, arrogant and superior in its power. Piang, the chosen of Allah, dwells among them; haughtily the boy accepts their homage +as his due, for he is destined to become their ruler some day. His prowess <a id="d0e314"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e314">7</a>]</span>and bravery are the boast of his people, and the name of Piang is known from one end of Mindanao to the other. + +</p> +<p>The tribe was assembled for the ceremony. Within the hollow square stood Dato (chief) Kali Pandapatan and old Pandita (priest) +Asin. There was a rustle of expectancy among the onlookers; their interest was divided between the two solitary figures, silently +waiting, and a hut, much bedecked with gaudy trappings and greens. On all sides the silent jungle closed in around the brilliant +throng, seeming to bear witness against mankind; men might force a tiny clearing in its very heart after years of struggle +and work, but the virgin forest sang on, undisturbed, watchful. + +</p> +<p>The grass flaps, forming the door of the hut, moved. Like a soft wind caressing the palm-trees, a murmur rustled through the +crowd: + +</p> +<p>“It is he!” + +</p> +<p>Children scrambled away from restraining parents to get a better view; dogs, filled with uneasiness by this strange silence, +whined. The stillness was unnatural. Distant cries of a mina-bird <a id="d0e324"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e324">8</a>]</span>floated to this strained audience; the river, muttering its plaints to the listening rushes, sounded like a cataract in their +ears. + +</p> +<p>Into the midst of this crowd walked a stately, graceful youth. The dusky goldenness of his skin was enhanced by his rainbow-hued +garments. From waist to ankle he was encased in breeches as tight as any gymnast’s pantaloons; they were striped in greens +and scarlets and had small gold filigree buttons down the sides. A tight jacket, buttoned to the throat, was fastened with +another row of buttons, and around his waist was gracefully tied a crimson sash, the fringed ends heavy with glass beads and +seed-pearls. A campilan (two-handled knife, double-edged), and a pearl-handled creese (dagger) were thrust into the sash. +With arrogant tread he advanced, the ranks dividing like a wave before an aggressive war-prau. His piercing black eyes expressed +utter indifference, and he ignored those gathered to witness his triumph. Only once he seemed to smile when the little slave +girl, Papita, timidly touched his arm. The rebuke that fell upon her from the others, brought <a id="d0e328"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e328">9</a>]</span>a frown to the boy’s face, but he continued to advance until he stood beside Dato Kali Pandapatan and Pandita Asin. Here, +like a sentinel giant, bereft of his nearest kin, one monster tree remained standing. It seemed to whisper to its distant +mates, who nodded answer from their ranks at the edge of the clearing. Under this tree Piang paused, gazing fixedly at his +beloved chief. + +</p> +<p>“Piang,” said Kali, “the time has come for you to prove that you are the chosen of Allah.” + +</p> +<p>A perceptible rustle followed this. + +</p> +<p>“On the night of your birth, the panditas announced that the charm boy, who was to lead the tribe to victory, would be born +before the stars dimmed. Your cry came first, but there was another, also, fated to come to us that night. The mestizo (half-breed) +boy, Sicto, opened his eyes before that same dawn, and you are destined to prove which is the chosen Allah.” Anxiously the +Moro men and women gazed at their idol, Piang. His manly little head was held high, and the powerful shoulders squared as +he listened. +<a id="d0e336"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e336">10</a>]</span></p> +<p>The sun, but lately risen, bathed the multitude in its early light and chased the light filigree of moisture from the foliage. +Through the branches of the solitary tree, wavy sunbeams made their way to flicker and play around Piang, and one bold dart +seemed to hesitate and caress the mass of glossy, black hair. + +</p> +<p>“Sicto!” called Kali. There was another murmur, but very different from the one that had preceded Piang’s coming. From the +same hut came forth another boy. A little taller than Piang, was Sicto, lean and lank of limb. His skin was a dirty cream +color, more like that of the Mongolian than the warm tinted Mohammedan. His costume was much like Piang’s, but it was not +carried with the royal dignity of the other boy’s. Sicto’s head was held a little down; the murky eyes avoided meeting those +of his tribesmen, and his whole attitude gave the impression of slinking. The high cheek-bones and slightly tilted eyes bore +evidence of the Chinese blood that flowed in his veins, and the tribe shuddered at the thought of Sicto as charm boy. He advanced +with a shambling gait. +<a id="d0e341"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e341">11</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Sicto, it is given that you shall have your chance.” Kali Pandapatan spoke loudly, a frown on his brow. “Piang is of our +own blood, and we, one and all, wish him to be our charm boy, but there shall be no injustice done. Born under the same star, +within the same hour, it is not for me to decide whether you or Piang is the Heaven-sent.” Turning to the pandita, Kali whispered +something. The old man nodded and advanced a few steps, saying: + +</p> +<p>“My people, I shall leave it to you, whether or not I have made a wise decision. There is no way for us to prove the claim +of either of these boys, so I am sending them to seek the answer for themselves.” Asin paused, and the crowd moved. “On yonder +mountain dwells the wise hermit, Ganassi. He has lived there for many years, apart from man, alone in the jungle with beast +and reptile. + +</p> +<p>There are no trails to his haunt; no man has seen Ganassi for a generation, but that he still lives we know, for he answers +our signal fires each year and replies to our questions.<span id="d0e348" class="corr" title="Source: ">”</span> Turning to the two boys, he addressed them directly: <a id="d0e351"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e351">12</a>]</span>“The mountain where he dwells has been named after him, Ganassi Peak, and friends through the hills will direct you toward +it. You shall both start at the same time, but by different routes. One leads through the jungle, over the hills; the other +follows the river to its head-water, the lake. Old Ganassi will guide the real charm boy to him; he is great; he is ubiquitous. +Have no fear of the jungle or its creatures, for he will be with you.” + +</p> +<p>Amazement and joy were written on Piang’s face. He was to penetrate the jungle at last, alone! His heart thrilled at the thought +of the adventures waiting for him there, and with radiant face he turned toward the inviting forest. + +</p> +<p>“Piang! Piang!” resounded through the stillness, as the excited Moros watched him. + +</p> +<p>Sicto stood, head down, wriggling his toes in the sand. He did not like the idea of the lonely jungle, or the thought of the +long hard days between him and Ganassi Peak, but he did not speak. + +</p> +<p>With solemn ceremony the pandita prepared to anoint the boys according to the rites of the <a id="d0e361"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e361">13</a>]</span>tribe. A slave boy ran lightly forward and sank on his knees before the pandita. On his head he bore a basket covered with +cool, green leaves. Praying and chanting, the priest uncovered the basket, revealing two beautiful dazzlingly white flowers. + +</p> +<p>“The champakas!” cried Papita in amazement as the rare flowers were exposed. An admonishing hand was placed over her lips. +Slowly Asin raised the flowers, heavy with dew, above the two boys, and the clear, crystal drops fell upon their heads. Across +the sky trailed a flock of white rice-birds; as they flitted across the clearing, their shadows leaped from one picturesque +Moro to another; a twig snapped, startling a baby, who cried out. The spell was broken. + +</p> +<p>The chant was taken up by the entire tribe, and slowly at first, they began to revolve around the central figures. As their +excitement grew, the pace quickened, until they were whirling and gyrating at a reckless rate. Like a pistol-shot came the +command to cease, and quietly all returned to their original places. Kali Pandapatan raised his hand for silence. +<a id="d0e367"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e367">14</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I shall throw my creese into the air. Sicto, you may have first choice. Do you choose the point, or the flat fall?” + +</p> +<p>Sicto considered: + +</p> +<p>“If the creese falls without sticking into the ground, I shall choose my route first.” + +</p> +<p>The crowd instinctively pushed a little closer as Kali tossed the shining blade into the air. A gasp, forced from between +some anxious lip, broke the stillness. Every eye followed the course described by the knife, and when it fell, clean as an +arrow, the blade piercing the earth, there was a sigh of relief. Piang was to have first choice. + +</p> +<p>“Piang, it is given that you shall choose. Will you proceed by the river or take your chances with the jungle? One route is +as safe as another, and only the real charm boy can reach Ganassi.” + +</p> +<p>“I will go by the river,” Piang answered quietly, with great dignity. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>It was a beautiful day. To us, the heat would <a id="d0e384"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e384">15</a>]</span>have been stifling, the humidity distressing, but Piang loved it all and joyfully looked forward to the trip up the river. + +</p> +<p>The trying ceremony over, the two candidates had hurried off to prepare for the long journey. Cumbersome garments were discarded, +and Piang was clothed in the easy costume of the jungle traveler; breech-clout, head-cloth, a sarong, flung carelessly over +one shoulder, and a <i>pañuelo</i> (handkerchief) with a few necessary articles tied securely in it. His weapons were a bolo, a creese, and a bow and arrow. +Piang’s bare limbs, bronze and powerful, glistened in the brilliant sunshine, and he was very picturesque as he paddled along +the stream, dipping his slim hands into the current, arresting objects that floated by. He had made his <i>banco</i> (canoe) himself; had even felled the palma brava alone, and had spent days burning and chopping the center away, until at +last he was the proud possessor of one of the swiftest canoes on the river. As on ice-boats, long outriggers of slender poles +extended across the banco, and the ends were joined <a id="d0e394"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e394">16</a>]</span>by other bamboo poles, so that the canoe looked like a giant dragon-fly as it skimmed lightly over the water. + +</p> +<p>Piang stopped at a lily-pad to gather some of the inviting blossoms, but regretted it instantly, as a swarm of mosquitos rose +and enveloped him. He thought to escape their vicious attacks by paddling faster, but it was no use; they had come to stay. +Trailing after him a long uneven stream, they seemed to take turns in tormenting him, and as the leaders became satiated, +they fell back, allowing the rear rankers to buzz forward and renew the attack. Piang longed for a certain kind of moss that +grows at the roots of trees, but his keen eyes could not discover any. + + +</p> +<p></p> +<div id="d0e399" class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p017.jpg" alt="Rising to his feet, spear poised, he waited" width="380" height="512"><p class="figureHead">Rising to his feet, spear poised, he waited</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>It was almost all he could do, to paddle his banco and fight the pests; his sarong was wrapped tightly around him, but it +was no protection against the savage mosquitos, and he was about to drop in the water despite the crocodiles, when he spied +some of the moss. With a cry of relief, he headed toward the bank and managed to pull some into the boat. Taking from his +bundle a queerly shaped, wooden object, he spun it like <a id="d0e405"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e405">19</a>]</span>a top, rapidly, backward and forward in a pan until smoke appeared at the point of the rod. Powdering some bark, he threw +it into the pan, and when it began to blaze, he added some of the damp moss. Gradually a thick, pungent smoke arose. It curled +upward, enveloping him and almost choking him with its overwhelming aroma, but it dispelled the mosquitos immediately, and +Piang continued his journey unmolested. + +</p> +<p>He was very happy that morning, for was he not free, honored by his tribe, and engaged in the dearest of pastimes, adventure? +The poor little girls have no choice in their occupations, for as soon as they are large enough, their tasks are allotted +to them; they must sit all day and weave, or wear out their little backs pounding rice in the big wooden bowls. But the man +child is free. The jungle is his task. He must learn to trap game, to find where the fruits abound, and to avoid the many +dangers that wait for him. Piang broke into a native chant: + +</p> +<p>“Ee-ung pee-ang, unk ah-wang!” As it resounded through the forest in his high-pitched, nasal tones, he was answered from the +trees, and <a id="d0e411"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e411">20</a>]</span>little, gray monkeys came swinging along to see who their visitor might be. Piang mischievously tossed a piece of the smoking +moss to the bank and paused to see the fun. Their almost human coughs, as the smoke was wafted their way, made him laugh. +They scampered down, tumbling over each other in their anxiety to be first, and one little fellow, who succeeded in out-distancing +the others, stuck its hand into the smoldering embers. Astonished, at first, it nursed the injured member, but gradually becoming +infuriated, it finally shrieked and jumped up and down. It began to pelt the smudge madly with stones, chattering excitedly +to its companions, as if describing the tragedy. The others had climbed back into the trees, paying no attention to Piang, +but keeping a watchful eye on the danger that had been hurled among them. + +</p> +<p>Piang lazily plied his paddle, laughing to himself at the foolishness of monkeys. He tried to peer through the dense trees +that crowded toward the river, hiding the secrets of the jungle. He wanted to know those secrets, wanted to match his strength +against the numberless dangers <a id="d0e415"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e415">21</a>]</span>that are always veiled by that twilight, which the sun strives in vain to penetrate, year after year, turning away discouraged. +Piang listlessly examined the river, little knowing the perilous adventure that waited for him just beyond the bend. + +</p> +<p>One lone log, majestic in its solitude, floated down the river, resisting the efforts of tenacious creepers to bind and hold +it prisoner. Piang poked it with his paddle. Another was floating in its wake, and he idly tapped this, also. It stirred, +turned over, and disappeared under the boat. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Boia!</i>” (“Crocodile!”) breathed the startled boy. He had disturbed one of the sleeping monsters! Piang’s heart beat very fast, and +a shudder passed through him as he felt something bump the bottom of the boat. The crocodile was just beneath him and if it +rose suddenly, it would upset him. One, two, three seconds he waited, but they were the longest seconds Piang had ever known. +There was a slight movement astern; the boat tipped forward, swerved, and before Piang could right himself, a vicious snort +startled <a id="d0e424"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e424">22</a>]</span>him. The crocodile was lashing the water with its tail, and the light shell was pitching and rolling dangerously. Piang scrambled +to his knees. + +</p> +<p>There are only two vulnerable spots on a full-grown crocodile; under the left fore leg, where the heart can be pierced, and +the jugular vein, easily reached through the opened jaws. Piang, in the bow of the boat, paused, arm raised, waiting for a +favorable opportunity. The canoe was being swept backward, stern first, and the crocodile swam close, nosing it, making it +careen perilously. Any moment the merciless jaws might close over the brittle wood, crushing it to splinters. The small, bleary +eyes seemed to devour Piang as they tortured him with suspense, but he patiently waited for his chance, knowing that he would +only have one. The banco gave a jerk as it bumped into an obstruction, and the impact forced it outward a few feet. The moment +had come. As the crocodile plunged forward, Piang thrust his spear into its breast. There was a gurgling sound, a swishing +of the water, and the Ugly thing rolled over on its back. + +</p> +<p>Piang never could remember just how he escaped. <a id="d0e430"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e430">23</a>]</span>From every sheltered cove, from behind innocent-looking snags, appeared the heads of hungry crocodiles, awakened by the fight. +Luckily they were attracted by the blood of Piang’s victim, and he skilfully avoided the clumsy animals as they rushed after +the fast disappearing meal. One powerful monster succeeded in dragging the body into the rushes, and the noise of the dispute, +as they fought over their unfortunate mate, nauseated the boy. His arms were tired and stiff and his head was reeling, but +he bravely worked at the paddle until he reached a bend of the river. It had been a narrow escape, and Piang had learned a +lesson. Never again would he idly thump logs in a stream! + +</p> +<p>The boat suddenly came to a standstill. It was turning as if on a pivot. It had been caught in one of the numerous eddies +at the mouth of a small tributary stream. Vigorously he strove to gain the channel. He hugged the bank, hoping to free himself +from the whirlpool, but his outrigger became entangled in some weeds, and the boat slowly began to tip. Frantically he reached +toward the tall nipa-palms, nodding over his head, <a id="d0e434"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e434">24</a>]</span>but their flimsy stalks gave easily, and he was almost thrown out of the boat. The sparkling water, as if laughing at his +predicament, caressed the helpless craft, drawing it closer and closer to its bosom. The banco gave a lurch; it was tipping; +it shipped a quantity of water. All Piang’s weight thrown against the upturned outrigger had no effect. Helplessly, he looked +into the green, whirling depths. + +</p> +<p>There was only one thing to be done. Taking a long breath, he grabbed his creese and dived. Down, down; the current pulled +and tugged at him; the rush of sand and mud blinded him, and he was almost swept out into the river. But he managed to catch +hold of the roots that were twined about the boat and finally cut the banco free. With a bound it started down the river. +The empty shell, at the mercy of the waves, danced and frolicked like a crazy thing, and Piang was almost stunned by a blow +from the outrigger as it passed him. + +</p> +<p>The boat was rushing right back into the midst of the crocodiles, but he bravely struck out after it. There was no chance +for him if he failed <a id="d0e440"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e440">25</a>]</span>to reach it. The whispering rushes and feathery palms at the water’s edge hid evil-smelling mud, festering with fever, the +home of reptiles and crocodiles. Desperately the boy strove to overtake the boat, and just as he was giving up hope, a friendly +snag tempted the runaway to pause, and Piang’s strong, young hand closed over the outrigger. Then began the task of climbing +back. A sudden movement might release the banco, and it would continue its mad flight, which he would be powerless to stop. +Keeping his eye on the frail-looking snag, he threw himself on his back in the water and worked his way along the outrigger +as he would climb a tree. Finally his hand touched the body of the boat, and, cautiously turning over, he sat straddling the +bamboo frame. It was all he could do to keep from jumping into the boat, but he restrained his impatience and started worming +over the side. + +</p> +<p>Half-way in his heart gave a leap! He could hear the swish-swish of the water on the other side of the banco as something +made its way toward him. The eddy was the only thing that saved him, for he could see the dread thing twirling <a id="d0e444"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e444">26</a>]</span>round and round as it tried to reach him. The boy was almost paralyzed with fear. As long as the crocodile was on the other +side of the boat, he was safe, but now—the snag creaked, stirred. + +</p> +<p>Piang made one heroic effort, lifted himself clear of the water, and fell exhausted into the boat. He was not a moment too +soon. The crunching sound, as the support began to give under the strain, was a fit accompaniment to the snarling and snapping +of the crocodile, which, deprived of its prey, was lashing the water, trying to reach the frail outriggers. Piang thought +he had never been swept through the water so rapidly, and that he would never gain control of his boat. Louder and clearer +came the sounds of the fighting monsters beyond the bend, and there between him and safety lurked his latest enemy. + +</p> +<p>An impertinent, ridiculous twitter came from a tiny scarlet-crowned songster, as if it were trying to advise and direct the +hard-pressed boy. Its solemn, round eyes stared at him, reproving and admonishing him for his foolhardiness. Piang, on his +knees, struggling with the current, <a id="d0e450"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e450">27</a>]</span>was unaware of his audience. Gradually he worked the boat around and headed up-stream, straight for the crocodile. Surprised +by this sudden change in tactics, it snorted and opened its repulsive jaws. Piang had hoped to catch it in this position, +so, pressing forward as rapidly as possible, he took careful aim and hurled his knife into its mouth. Rising to his feet, +spear poised, he waited to see if the knife would be effective. The creature floundered and slashed the water, gave a blood-curdling +bellow, and rolled over on its back, dead. A crocodile fights with its last breath to remain on its belly, for if not dead, +it drowns as soon as it turns over. + +</p> +<p>Piang wanted his weapon. The body of the animal was caught by the current and shot rapidly past him down-stream, but the boy, +warned by the commotion further down, hesitated to follow it. He realized, however, that his knife was very valuable to him, +and that he was sure to have urgent need of it again, so he started after the ugly body. The sparkling wavelets sported and +capered with their grewsome burden, sometimes dashing it against some <a id="d0e454"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e454">28</a>]</span>stray log, again bearing it far across the river as if purposely assisting it to elude its pursuer. + +</p> +<p>Piang skilfully guided his banco in its wake, and finally succeeded in thrusting his spear into its side, and pulled it toward +the bank. The knife was embedded far down in the terrible jaws, and Piang wondered if he dared reach into them. He looked +at the tusk-like teeth, the first he had ever seen at close quarters, but he remembered with a shudder the wounds that he +had helped care for—wounds made by such poisonous tusks. + +</p> +<p>Mustering his courage, he slowly extended his hand into its mouth. The big, wet tongue flopped against his hand; the powerful +jaws quivered spasmodically, and the hot, fetid steam from the throat sickened him. His knife! He must get it! Desperately +he tugged at the handle; it would not loosen its hold. Cold sweat broke out all over Piang. A new sound arrested him. The +crocodiles below had already smelled the blood of the second victim and were plunging up-stream to find it. The boy thought +the knife <a id="d0e460"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e460">29</a>]</span>would never come out. He worked and twisted, and finally it gave so suddenly, that he lost his balance, and by a quick turn +of his body just saved himself from another ducking. It was lucky for Piang that he finished when he did, for around the curve +in the river, headed directly toward him, came the crowding, vicious scavengers. + +</p> +<p>Gathering his wits quickly, he pushed forward. The snorting and fighting grew more and more distant; the peaceful river stretched +out before him like a silver road beckoning him to safety, and he offered a prayer of thanksgiving to Allah, the Merciful, +that he had been spared that awful death. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>It was nearly evening when Piang beached his banco and took up the trail to the village where he was to spend his first night. +Confidently he trotted through the jungle, picking his way easily among the gathering shadows. Soon voices became distinguishable, +and he heard tom-toms beating the evening serenade. Dogs howled in <a id="d0e468"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e468">30</a>]</span> response, women chattered, boys quarreled. To Piang this represented the usual day’s peaceful ending. + +</p> +<p>As he trotted into the clearing and paused before the hut of the dato, the curious crowded around him: mothers to see if the +stranger’s muscles could compare with their lads’; girls to flaunt their charms; boys to measure him with their eyes. Piang +had no interest in anything but the boys, and as soon as the dato condescended to greet him with the customary salutation +for guests, he was left in peace to join them at their interrupted game of pelota. + +</p> +<p>Twilight comes quickly in the tropics. When darkness had fallen, each family was squatting beside its rice pot, and as the +night silence deepened, the village slept. Piang had asked for no shelter, and no invitation had been extended, but he silently +accepted the hospitality, according to the strange Moro codes. + +</p> +<p>Slumber claimed the inhabitants of the barrio, but all around the jungle woke to the night. Noxious blooms raised their heads +to drink in the deadly moisture; hungry pythons took up <a id="d0e476"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e476">31</a>]</span>their silent vigil at water holes; night prowlers slunk in the gloom to spring on the more defenseless creatures, and over +it all the inscrutable jungle kept watch, passing silent judgment on man and beast, in this great scheme of life. + + +<a id="d0e478"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e478">32</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="d0e479" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="label">Second Adventure</h2> +<h2 class="normal">The Floating Island</h2> +<p>Like a mirror framed in soft velvet green, the lake broke upon Piang. In the still noon heat the motionless water scintillated +and sparkled and the powerful rays of the sun seemed to penetrate to the very bottom. Dragon-flies and spiders skated merrily +about, eluding the ever-watchful fishes lying in wait amid forests of lacy seaweeds and coral. Tall, stately palms, towering +above their mates, scorned to seek their reflections in the clear depths, but frivolous bamboo and nipa-palms swayed gently +out over the water, rustling and chattering with delight at their mirrored images. + +</p> +<p>Piang slipped through the mouth of the creek and gazed in amazement at the vast sheet of water. Stories of the lake and its +wonderful floating islands had lured him from the more direct <a id="d0e488"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e488">33</a>]</span>route to Ganassi Peak, and he eagerly searched for one of the curiosities. His eyes focused on a dot of green far in the distance. +It was moving, turning, and suddenly a whole fleet of dancing, playful islands became distinct. Joyfully Piang started in +pursuit. He wanted to see one, to touch it. Swiftly he flew through the water. As if detecting his purpose, the nomad islands +eluded him. As soon as he chose one to pursue, it flaunted its charms the more and capered and dodged behind its fellows. +Like a giant may-pole, the largest island held several smaller ones in leash, permitting them to revolve around it, interlacing +vines and creepers that were rooted on the mother isle. Monkeys and jungle creatures crept fearlessly along these natural +ropes, sporting from one island to another. Hablar-birds and aigrets squabbled over bits of rice and wild fruits. Piang caught +sight of a civet-cat crouching in a tree on one island. It had probably gone to sleep in that tree while the island was nosing +the mainland and had awakened to find itself adrift. Sometimes these floating islands would be held to the shore for years, +<a id="d0e490"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e490">34</a>]</span>intertwining liana (climbing plants of tropical forests) and <i>bajuca</i> (jungle rope), but sooner or later some wild storm is sure to set them wandering again. + +</p> +<p>There were weird tales of early Dyak settlers. These Borneo pirates had fled to Mindanao to escape justice, bringing many +cruel and terrible customs that were to take root and bear fruit among the tribes of the sultan. A favorite pastime of the +Dyaks had been to bind captives to a stray island and lead it slowly and tantalizingly to the mammoth waterfalls, shouting +and dancing with glee as it plunged into the abyss. + + +</p> +<p></p> +<div id="d0e498" class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p037.jpg" alt="His hands closed over something" width="378" height="512"><p class="figureHead">His hands closed over something</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>The lake was like a fairy-land. Purple lotus flowers surrounded the boat. Piang dipped his hands into the cool water, and +pulled them up by long slender roots; lily-pads offered their beauties and soon the banco was a bower of fragrant and brilliant +flowers. Playfully Piang caught at a vine, floating in the wake of an island. The natural boat led him gently about, twisting +and circling back and forth. He laughed merrily. The islands were too funny! They seemed almost human in their antics. Some +had regular <a id="d0e504"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e504">37</a>]</span>routes, and, like mail boats touched the same spot again and again, only to be hurried on as the current caught them. Others +with malicious intent strayed in the path of their more systematic brothers, bumping and jarring them with obstinate regularity. + +</p> +<p>The joy of freedom thrilled Piang; the intimacy with nature and its mysteries stirred within him a desire to know more, feel +more, and he gazed at the distant peak where his fortune awaited him, wondering if the old hermit, Ganassi, was in reality +watching for his coming. + +</p> +<p>Toward afternoon Piang became conscious of a heavy steam-like vapor rising from the undergrowth at the edge of the jungle; +the atmosphere grew suddenly sticky and sultry. Almost within a moment the brilliant sunshine was blotted out, and a gray +twilight settled over the lake. Frightened birds, squawking and screaming, hurried by; a fawn, drinking at the water’s edge, +darted off through the jungle. A slight frown rippled across the water; the breeze chilled Piang. Trees in the distance seemed +to bend nearly double with no apparent cause, but the rush of wind <a id="d0e510"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e510">38</a>]</span>finally swept the whole valley, and the jungle shuddered and swayed before it. The storm seemed an animate thing, seemed to +come upon the peacefulness of the lake like an evil genius, hurling its fury upon nature and her creatures. + +</p> +<p>Piang had never been alone in a typhoon. In bewilderment he looked about, wondering where he could find shelter. He watched +the birds, the animals; his boat brought up against something with a thud. An island had bumped into him, and he realized +in dismay what a menace the pretty toys might become in a typhoon. Struggling with the tempest, Piang fought past the islands, +reached the shore, turned his banco bottom side up, and crept underneath. + +</p> +<p>The violent wind began to dash loose objects about, tearing limbs off trees and hurling them aloft as if they were mere splinters. +A cocoanut crashed down, striking the ground near Piang; another fell, and yet another. Then the rain came in torrents. It +fell unevenly as if poured by mighty giants from huge buckets. The ground beneath Piang was swaying, undulating. <a id="d0e516"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e516">39</a>]</span>A tree crashed to the ground, tearing away vines and ferns. As he began to experience the motion of a boat, Piang became thoroughly +alarmed and, dashing aside the banco, sprang to his feet. + +</p> +<p>Terror flashed into his heart. What was happening? He had landed on the mainland and put his banco under a big tree, and now +this tree was pitching and swaying, its branches sweeping the ground. The tree was being uprooted, and the earth at Piang’s +feet was plowed up as roots tore through the surface. The next tree was being felled in the same manner, and as his eyes darted +about, he beheld everywhere the same terrifying picture. These mighty monuments of time, trees older than man, were being +torn from their beds and thrown to the ground or left standing against each other for support. It seemed to be only the trees +in Piang’s vicinity that were doomed to destruction, and, although it was a dangerous thing to attempt, Piang decided to seek +another shelter. He took a few difficult steps forward and was almost stunned by the immense fall of water. It dashed into +his face, beat upon his <a id="d0e520"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e520">40</a>]</span>head in a stinging, hissing mass; it ran in streams down his arms and legs, making him heavy and clumsy. As he caught at a +tree for support, it groaned under his weight and crashed to earth; the ground was giving way, and he felt himself sinking. +With a scream, he freed himself, and, jumping to a fallen tree, clung desperately, hoping to escape flying missiles. Just +as he gathered himself for another advance his heart gave a jump. Through the mad rage of the typhoon, he could hear quick +breathing! The ground tipped and swayed alarmingly, tossing trees about like masts on a ship in distress. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Linug!</i>” (“Earthquake!”) moaned Piang. Bravely the boy crept forward, knife in hand. Whatever it was, hiding under that log, Piang +must take his chances; if he remained where he was he would certainly be killed by falling trees. His feet made a sucking +sound; a vivid flash of lightning blinded him, and it was all he could do to force his way through the wall of water that +was pounding down upon him. With a desperate effort, he pulled himself along by vines, hoping to pass the unknown animal before +<a id="d0e527"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e527">41</a>]</span>it could leap; but the branches stirred, and he sprang back with a cry. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Babui!</i>” (“Wild boar!”) he gasped. The creature’s head shook with fury; its teeth were bared, and the tiny red eyes flamed with anger. +The babui had the largest tusks Piang had ever seen, and he grasped his bolo firmly to meet the rush. One second, two seconds—the +suspense was fearful, and Piang wondered why the boar did not attack. Strained almost beyond his endurance, he stood, rigid +and cold, waiting. The wind sucked at his breath; the torrents of water, dashing in his face, kept him blinking and gasping, +and still that wild thing pawed and snorted. Fascinated, Piang gazed into the vicious, bleary eyes, and finally he realized +that they were losing some of their fury; the tusks sank into the spongy earth; the head fell lower. The babui was a prisoner, +pinioned to the ground by a fallen tree! Relief was Piang’s first sensation, but pity for the animal and fear for himself, +roused him to the realization of new dangers yet to be faced. He must plunge into the dense jungle; it was only a short distance +now. He glanced back to <a id="d0e534"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e534">42</a>]</span>be sure that the babui could not free itself; it was swaying and moaning, unable to move. + +</p> +<p>As Piang paused to get his directions, the earth gave a tremendous jerk, which threw him on his face. He lay stunned for a +few minutes and when he rose to his knees, he had the sensation of floating gently, softly. The jerking and trembling had +ceased, and the ground swayed soothingly. Piang turned toward the jungle, to the spot where he had been about to step. Could +he believe his eyes? Almost numb with terror, he gazed stupidly into the receding jungle. He was on land, but he was floating. +He was sailing away from the jungle! Piang had taken refuge on a floating island. + +</p> +<p>In despair he gazed about him, trying to penetrate the thickly driving rain. He was on the very edge of the island and he +wondered why he had not been swept into the lake. The mass of vegetation, wrenched from its bed, trailed along in the water +as the nomad island whirled and danced on the angry waves. A tree, the branches of which were hanging in the water, was pulled +from its bed, dragging part of the island <a id="d0e540"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e540">43</a>]</span>with it. One long vine struggled to right itself against the current, to gain the shelter of the island again. It seemed most +lifelike, and suddenly Piang realized with a shudder that it was alive. A python had been knocked from the falling tree and +was being dragged along. Only the end of its tail was twined about a log; desperately it strove to work its way back, and +Piang watched with dread. Its struggles grew weaker and weaker, and finally its head sank below the waves, and it joined the +unresisting creepers that were being dragged along to destruction. + +</p> +<p>Piang leaned wearily against the only tree that remained standing; the fall of water, tearing down the trunk, cascaded over +the jungle boy, and he raised his hand to shield his eyes. What had saved the solitary tree, Piang could not imagine, until +he discovered a small diamond-shaped cut in the bark. He drew back with a shudder. Two crossed arrows were carved within the +diamond. This was another Dyak custom so hateful to the Mohammedan; the tree was the sarcophagus of some Borneo chief. A century +must have passed since the burial, for the incision <a id="d0e544"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e544">44</a>]</span>was almost obliterated, but Piang knew that the mummy of his enemy reposed in savage dignity within the heart of the tree, +and that the Dyak belief was that the tree could not fall or decay. He fought his way to the other side of the island. On +it sped. Cries of frightened animals came faintly from the mainland; screams of birds, beaten to earth, pierced the din. + +</p> +<p>A tremor ran through the island. There was a tearing sound as if strong timbers were being forced apart; the whole mass stood +still, then came a tremendous crash. It had collided with the fleet that Piang had been sporting with only an hour before. +Surely the stray bits of jungle would crush each other to bits. A gray streak flew past Piang, and a frightened monkey, thinking +to save itself from the other derelict, nearly landed on the babui. Paying no attention to either the boy or the babui, the +monkey shrank against a log and hid its head, whining piteously. + +</p> +<p>A pale light broke through the gloom, and the rain ceased as suddenly as it had come. Piang’s heart gave a bound as he watched +the tempest abate. Suddenly he straightened himself and <a id="d0e550"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e550">45</a>]</span>strained his ears to catch a new sound. What was that deep, distant rumbling? A cry so piteous broke from him, that even the +dying babui started. The falls! He could hear them distinctly and realized that he was rushing toward them at a mad pace. +Louder and clearer grew the thunder of those falls, and Piang’s staunch little heart rebelled. He would not stand there like +a Dyak prisoner! He would do something. He would save himself! A blazing flash rent the heavens and Piang caught sight of +Ganassi Peak frowning and lowering in the clouds. Ganassi! If he only knew! No, it was too late. The falls roared hungrily, +and nothing could keep the island from plunging to destruction. + +</p> +<p>Slowly Piang rose to his full height, and, folding his arms, determined to die bravely. He could see the upper falls now, +high above his head, and he pictured the greater falls below him—the falls that were waiting to swallow his island. He tried +to remember the prayer for such an occasion, but none came to him. + +</p> +<p>“There is no God but Allah!” muttered the terrified boy. +<a id="d0e556"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e556">46</a>]</span></p> +<p>The island was pitching again as obstacles caught at it, spinning it around and around. Each thing that it struck on its reckless +journey tore portions from it; gradually it became smaller. The light grew steadily clearer, and Piang could see what awaited +him. Massive rocks loomed up at the head of the falls, and he calmly wondered if he would be killed before the plunge. The +side of the island where he stood began to give way, and, although he was to die in a few minutes, instinct made him move +to the other side. He tried to walk, but the ground gave at each step. He crawled along the trunk of a tree and unexpectedly +came upon the monkey. The little creature was still huddled against the log and showed no fear of Piang; it whined louder, +seeming to sense the rapidly approaching danger. + +</p> +<p>Suddenly the monkey jumped into the tree, and Piang followed it with his eyes. It seemed to be gathering itself for a greater +leap. As Bruce watched the spider, so Piang, fascinated, kept his eyes on the little wild thing. Gradually it dawned on him +that the monkey had discovered <a id="d0e561"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e561">47</a>]</span>an avenue of escape! The island had veered off and was fast approaching a monster boulder that would surely break it in two. +Growing on it were vines and trees hanging far out over the water. + +</p> +<p>Piang stumbled along and somehow made his way to the burial tree. A moment he paused, awed by a superstitious fear of the +dead, but a violent clap of thunder terrified him into forgetting all but his immediate danger. There were only a few moments +left; if he could reach the top of the tree before the island dashed past the vines, he might save himself. His hands tremblingly +sought the notches sacred to the dead; he scrambled upward. Thorns pierced his tired limbs; vines and creepers took vicious +delight in fastening themselves upon him. The tree shook as the monkey jumped farther out on a limb, and the movement seemed +to put new strength in Piang. As he struggled up, a calmness came to him. He carefully watched the monkey, and when it crouched +for the spring, Piang searched the approaching vines for one strong enough to hold him. +<a id="d0e565"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e565">48</a>]</span></p> +<p>In a moment it would all be over. What if he jumped too soon or too late? What if the vine proved too frail? The monkey was +crouching for the leap. The branch that Piang was clinging to bent under his weight. The monkey flashed through the air, made +a desperate grab, and swung out of sight. In a daze, Piang prepared to follow; breathlessly he watched for his chance. With +a prayer on his lips and with a mighty effort, he sprang straight out into space. His hands closed over something small and +round. A dizziness came over him. + +</p> +<p>In dismay he felt the vine give, as if uncoiling itself from a windlass. Down, down he fell until his feet touched the soggy +earth of the island. Still the vine uncoiled; the island crashed into the boulder. Desperately Piang tried to climb the vine, +but its slackness offered no resistance. Slowly the island began to tip, to slide over the falls, and Piang made one more +effort to save himself. As he grasped the vine more firmly, it brought up with a quick jerk, almost breaking his hold. + +</p> +<p>He felt the vine tighten, heard it creak and <a id="d0e572"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e572">49</a>]</span>groan under his weight, and finally it lifted him clear of the island, swinging him far out over the abyss like a weight at +the end of a pendulum. + +</p> +<p>His island slid from under him, leaving him suspended in mid air; in the second that he hung there, he could see the cruel +rocks below, the seething, steaming water. The stately funeral tree gently inclined to the fall, and, with stern dignity, +took the plunge. The dying babui, flung far out into space, added its diminutive death-wail to the din. The vine trembled +over the chasm. Piang felt a quick rush of air, a sickening feeling, as if he were rapidly falling; with a tremendous impetus +the vine swung back, crashed into a tree, and, with the agility of the monkey, Piang climbed to safety. + +</p> +<p>“There is no God but Allah!” came from the strained lips, and the boy turned his eyes toward the setting sun as it struggled +to pierce the gloom. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Bulutu!</i>” (“Rainbow!”) he cried, and a faint smile flitted across his bruised and bleeding face. + +</p> +<p>Startled by a movement at his side, Piang found the frightened monkey trying to thrust its head under his arm. Taking the +trembling little <a id="d0e585"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e585">50</a>]</span>creature up, Piang pillowed it against his breast. And so these strange companions, the timid, wild monkey and the gentle, +savage boy crouched in the tree together, watching the typhoon beat out its fury on the helpless things of nature, and ever +clearer grew the <i>bulutu</i> as it wreathed and crowned Piang’s goal, Ganassi Peak. + + + +<a id="d0e590"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e590">51</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="d0e591" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="label">Third Adventure</h2> +<h2 class="normal">The Hermit of Ganassi Peak</h2> +<p>The silence was oppressive. Piang stumbled along through the tangle of vines and weeds, tired and foot-sore. Would he never +find the path to the peak? And was there really a mysterious old man who had lived up there for over a hundred years? Sicto +was somewhere on that mountain, striving to reach the summit too, and the pandita had said that the boy who arrived first, +was the real charm boy. They had both started from the <i>barrio</i> (village) the same day; Sicto had plunged into the jungle, while Piang had chosen the river and lake. He shuddered at the +recollection of his many narrow escapes during the journey. Where was his enemy, Sicto, now? Had he found an easier route, +and was he already with old Ganassi, receiving the rites of charm boy? + +</p> +<p>Unfamiliar with the vegetation on the mountain, <a id="d0e603"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e603">52</a>]</span>Piang was afraid to touch the many strange fruits, so he contented himself with bananas and cocoanuts, and for water he drank +dew from the enormous pitcher-plants. The jungle was thick, and it was difficult to decide in what direction to go, so Piang +had to climb trees to get his bearings. One day just as he was starting up a tall tree, he was startled by a sound. Something +was crashing through the bushes below him. Visions of terrible mountain animals flashed through his head, and he hastily scrambled +up the tree. On came the creature, now pausing a moment, now plunging into the mesh of vines, tearing them asunder, always +following the path Piang had made. Preparing himself for some strange beast, the boy drew bow and waited. Suddenly he started. +A cold chill gripped him. That sound! It was a voice—Sicto’s! Crouching against the tree, Piang hoped to escape detection, +but just as Sicto passed beneath the tree, Piang’s bow slipped and fell to the ground. Sicto jumped aside and looked up: + +</p> +<p>“Oh, ho, my pretty Piang! So I’ve got you, have I?” The bully started up the tree. +<a id="d0e607"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e607">53</a>]</span></p> +<p>Like a flash Piang was away. As easily as any monkey he swung himself into the next tree, and before Sicto realized it, Piang +was taunting him from the very top of a far-off tree. More agile and much smaller than Sicto, Piang could easily travel in +this way, and after a few unsuccessful attempts to follow, Sicto jumped to the ground. Slyly making his way along on foot, +Sicto watched his rival. When Piang thought he had outdistanced his pursuer, he slipped to the ground and started off. + +</p> +<p>“Lēēēēēē lèlèlèlè ouiiiit!” The war-cry rang through the jungle, and Piang knew that his life depended on his fleet-footedness. +Over fallen tree trunks, through dense cogon grass, Piang fled. His feet were pierced by wicked thorns, and everything he +touched seemed to throw out a defense against him. Bamboo caught at his clothing and held him prisoner; <i>bajuca</i> vines clutched his weapons, hurling him to the ground. Sicto was gaining on him. After poor Piang had made the path through +the jungle, it was easy enough for Sicto to follow. + +</p> +<p>On, up, fled the boy. He came to a clearing <a id="d0e617"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e617">54</a>]</span>through which a mountain stream was bubbling. The sun beat down; the stifling heat rising from rotting vegetation took his +breath away, but Piang ran on. What was that black hole yawning in the mountain side? With a gasp, Piang realized he was at +the mouth of the haunted cave. + +</p> +<p>The brook, flowing swiftly down the mountain, plunged into the cave and disappeared, to come to the surface about two miles +away. It was the home of the most terrible reptiles and animals, and the souls of wicked people waited there for Judgment +Day. + +</p> +<p>Piang scanned the precipitous cliffs, the impenetrable jungle, in search of an avenue of escape. He was trapped. A gloating +cry from Sicto decided him. Sicto was a coward and would be afraid to follow him, so Piang ran toward the cave. Had not the +pandita said that Ganassi would be with the real charm boy, and was not Piang sure of that protection? Who but Piang was the +charm boy? + +</p> +<p>Piang’s courage began to flag, however, as he caught the cold, damp odor from the cave, but he bravely plunged into the forbidding-looking +<a id="d0e625"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e625">55</a>]</span>cavern. Man had probably never set foot in that place before. Creeping along, he peered into the increasing darkness, but +could see nothing. A shriek startled him, and the sight that met his eyes made his blood run cold. Sicto had started to follow +Piang, but just as he came to the opening, a huge python slipped across the mouth of the cave, waving its enormous head from +side to side. Sicto, trembling with fear, retreated into the jungle, and as Piang saw him disappear, he longed to be out again, +fighting Sicto, anything, rather than penned up in the cave with that frightful snake and the unknown horrors. There was no +turning back, however, for that sentinel continued to slip and slide across the opening, and Piang bravely faced the two miles +that lay between him and the other end of the underground passage. + +</p> +<p>The air was heavy and moldy; the sides of the cave wet and slippery. Once his hand touched something that moved, and he almost +fainted. + +</p> +<p>“I am the real charm boy,” he whispered, “and nothing will hurt me. Ganassi, the wonder man, is with me. Forward!” +<a id="d0e631"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e631">56</a>]</span></p> +<p>Courageous and determined, the boy pressed on. A muffled cry resounded through the passage. Flattening himself against the +slimy wall, Piang listened. He could not imagine what had made the sound, and he unsheathed his knife. At times he followed +the bed of the stream, wading ankle-deep in the water, but the slippery stones turned or tripped him, and when he stepped +on something that moved, he groaned and jumped to the narrow shelf-like ledge that overhung the water. + +</p> +<p>A faint light stole through the gloom. Was it the end? But surely not, he had not gone more than a few hundred yards. He hurried +forward. Brighter, clearer, it grew. Suddenly the brook made a sharp turn, and he found himself in a high, vaulted chamber, +sparkling and shimmering in the light from above. Piang was so glad to see daylight again, faint as it was, that he did not +stop to consider new dangers, and eagerly ran forward. He searched the sides for support on which to climb to the crevices, +but the rotting vines and moss that lined the walls gave at his touch, and he fell back discouraged. <a id="d0e636"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e636">57</a>]</span>Something crumbled under his body, and he discovered to his horror that he had fallen on a skeleton. A man had been here before +him, then? But closer examination proved the bones to be those of a <i>packda</i> (ape). Snakes and worms wriggled out of the skeleton, and Piang shrank back in fear. The dread hamadryad leered at him; poisonous +toads and lizards scurried for cover. How many more of these creatures would he encounter before escaping from this dungeon? +Would Ganassi protect him and lead him safely through? Something seemed to tell the boy that he was safe and with renewed +faith, he prepared to continue the journey. + +</p> +<p>Everywhere the beauty of nature asserted itself. Pale green ferns seemed to hold out beseeching arms toward the light; moss +crept upward hopefully, softening the rough ledges with its velvet touch. Great stalagmites and stalactites, smothered in +the embrace of lichen and creepers, accepted the homage of the plant life indifferently. Piang was blind to the sublimity +of his surroundings, as he hurried on. Carefully he stepped on the ledge; warily he held out his <a id="d0e643"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e643">58</a>]</span>bolo to ward off surprises. A sudden hiss made him leap into the stream, and shuddering, he plunged on, down the black path. +Would the stream lead him to the sunlight again? Or was he burrowing into the depths of the earth, never again to breathe +the air of life? + +</p> +<p>Finally, after almost giving up hope, he heard the distant call of a mina-bird. The jungle! Frantically he worked his way +forward, wondering if the mate to the sentinel at the other opening would bar his passage. Daylight! Faintly, at the end of +the long tunnel, he could see the blessed green of the forest, but his cry of joy was stilled; his hope of safety vanished. +Again that mournful cry echoed through the cavern, and he gave himself up for lost. The souls of the wicked were pursuing +him, would capture him, and make him pay for intruding upon them! Piang reeled as he heard a splash in the water behind him; +he caught at something for support; it writhed out of his hand. Paralyzed with fear, the boy scarcely breathed. On came the +pursuer, stealthily, warily. Reaching the end of his endurance, Piang wheeled, and faced the cave. <a id="d0e647"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e647">59</a>]</span>Something paused, whined, and a streak flew past him. The fetid odor of a living creature brought him to his senses, and his +anxious eyes discerned the outline of a civet-cat making its way to the opening. + +</p> +<p>As he struggled through those last few rods, Piang thought he had never worked so hard in his life, but finally he lay in +the sunshine, safe, free, and unafraid. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>For two days Piang struggled upward. Everything was strange to him; the growths and trees were different from those of the +lowlands. Scrub palms, covered with small buds, on which the dread packda feeds, began to appear, and Piang anxiously scanned +the trees. There is no creature in the jungle that has the strength of the packda. Only the crocodile and the python are foolish +enough to attack it, but the crocodile’s jaws are torn asunder, and the python is clawed to pieces. + +</p> +<p>“Piang!” The name echoed and vibrated through the forest. Who had called him? Trembling with fear, filled with apprehension, +<a id="d0e657"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e657">60</a>]</span>Piang took refuge in a tree. From the branches he scanned the surrounding forest. Was a spirit following him from the haunted +cave, or was it the hated Sicto? + +</p> +<p>“Piang!” It came softly this time, as if from a greater distance. The underbrush moved, and Piang prayed that it might not +be a spirit come to destroy him. The bush rustled, cracked, and parted as a dazzling white head made its appearance. Piang +shut his eyes, dreading what was to come. Almost swooning, he slipped, lost his hold, and went crashing through the branches. +Stunned by the fall, it was sometime before he regained consciousness, but the first thing he was aware of, was a hot breath +on his face. Slowly he opened his eyes, wondering if he was dreaming. There, bending over him, was a marvelous white fawn. + +</p> +<p>Startled and ashamed, Piang looked at the lovely thing. He put out his hand and the animal laid her soft muzzle in his palm, +allowing him to caress her. What did she want? Were some of her babies in trouble? With his arm about the fawn’s neck, Piang +allowed himself to <a id="d0e663"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e663">61</a>]</span>be led along a well defined path, trodden by many feet. + +</p> +<p>“Piang!” Again his name was called, but for some reason fear had been banished from his heart, and he advanced without a qualm. +Presently they came to one of the numerous jungle clearings. The sun did not burn at this altitude, and Piang took a deep +breath of the fresh, crisp air. A flapping of wings startled him, and before he could prevent, a brilliant mina-bird circled +his head and gently lighted on his shoulder. A soft white mist was floating around and below him. The clouds! He was in them, +“the breath of the wind,” and he thought that this must be fairyland. + +</p> +<p>“Piang!” This time the voice was near at hand. Both creatures responded to the call, and Piang suffered himself to be led +onward. The fawn stopped near a gigantic banian-tree. It was the only tree in the clearing and spread over more than an acre +of ground, enticing the surrounding creepers and orchids to its shelter. Piang had seen these trees before, but never such +a large one. The banian is like a huge tent; <a id="d0e669"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e669">62</a>]</span>each branch sends shoots to the ground, which take root and become additional trunks, and year after year the tree increases +its acreage; hundreds of men can find shelter under these jungle temples. + +</p> +<p>“Piang!” The voice came from within the tree. Astonished, Piang watched the mina-bird flit through the sunlight and disappear +into the banya. The fawn paused, looked gravely into the boy’s eyes, and with stately mien, walked into the tree. + +</p> +<p>“Thank you, my little friends, for bringing Piang to Ganassi,” said the voice from within. + +</p> +<p>Ganassi! So this was the haunt! This lovely natural dwelling, the dread Ganassi’s home! Expectantly, Piang waited. Was Ganassi +a man, or was he only a voice, the heart of this banian-tree? While he stood gazing at the tree, waiting for the spirit to +address him, or the man to appear, he was startled by a black, shiny head, and the loathsome coils of a python, writhing in +the branches. The serpent! Piang had heard that it could fascinate animals, keeping them <a id="d0e677"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e677">63</a>]</span>prisoner by its mystic powers, until ready to devour them. Ganassi was, then, an evil spirit in the form of a serpent! Piang +uttered a low cry. + +</p> +<p>“So, my little pet, you have frightened Piang, the charm boy! You must not do that.” + +</p> +<p>The snake, responding to the voice, stuck its head through the foliage and slipped from sight. + +</p> +<p>The voice! The voice! It had called him the charm boy! Piang’s fear abated, and he said tremblingly: + +</p> +<p>“O great Ganassi, will you not show yourself to me, Piang?” Breathlessly the boy listened. The branches swayed, parted, and +the mina-bird floated through. The python, head erect, followed, and next came the graceful white form of his first friend. +On its neck it supported a weird creature. Bent and wrinkled, was the little old man; a few strands of white hair flowed from +his chin, and his eyebrows and lashes had almost disappeared. Toothless, almost hairless as he was, there was that about Ganassi +that precluded horror, for his sparkling eyes were kind, and his mouth gently curved into a smile. Piang fell on <a id="d0e687"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e687">64</a>]</span>his knees. The hermit surrounded by his pets, advanced and raised the boy. + +</p> +<p>“My little Piang! So you have come to Ganassi at last. He has known for many years that you would come. Long before you were +born he knew, and his heart is glad to welcome you.” + +</p> +<p>“Is it true, O wise man, that I am the real charm boy, and that I shall lead Kali Pandapatan’s tribe to victory?” + +</p> +<p>“You have spoken, my son. It was over you, not the impostor, Sicto, that the mystic star hovered on the night of your birth.” + +</p> +<p>At the mention of his enemy’s name, Piang quickly scanned the surrounding jungle, but Ganassi’s soft chuckle reassured him. + +</p> +<p>“Have no fear, child. Sicto can never harm you, nor will he ever reach Ganassi. The python would smother him; the mina-bird +would peck out his eyes; the gentle fawn would lead him astray.” + +</p> +<p>“How do you know all this, O Ganassi?” + +</p> +<p>“The question shall be answered, Piang, because you are charm boy, but should other lips <a id="d0e703"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e703">65</a>]</span>utter it, they should never speak again. Enter.” + +</p> +<p>Ganassi held back the slender trunk-roots of the banian. Curiously, the boy looked about. All the wonder of the jungle seemed +centered in this sacred spot. A forest of stems and aerial roots greeted his eyes; from overhead the graceful and rare Vanda +lowii sent inquisitive blooms to caress his cheek; they mingled with his dark hair, scenting the air with their strange fragrance. +From tree-ferns, nestling in the branches, tiny heads peeped out, and little feathered creatures chirruped a welcome. A civet-cat +was lazily stroking its face with one paw. Something large and hairy stirred on a nest of dried grass, and sleepily a full-grown +packda stretched himself and gazed at Piang. The python approached it, and a hairy paw was extended; his snakeship coiled +up beside the ape, and the mina-bird flew to the ape’s shoulder. + +</p> +<p>Piang could scarcely believe his eyes. Here all was at peace, and natural enemies forgot to fight and kill. + +</p> +<p>“Piang, all these creatures are going to be your friends.” +<a id="d0e711"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e711">66</a>]</span></p> +<p>Piang seated himself on the soft turf opposite Ganassi; the fawn nosed her head under Piang’s arm and sank by his side. + +</p> +<p>“The charm that I am about to give you will protect you from tempest, danger, and deceit: no storm can destroy you; no animal +can creep upon you unaware, and no man can lie to you. You will become the wise man of Mindanao, the guide of your people, +the heart of the island.” + +</p> +<p>Solemnly the boy followed the words of the old man. + +</p> +<p>“You shall be taught all the truths of the nation, and you shall pass them along to the generations.” + +</p> +<p>Piang’s face brightened. At last he was to know the answers to many puzzling questions. + +</p> +<p>“Ask what you will, boy. I will answer you truthfully and justly, telling you the things as they are, as they have been since +the day of creation.” + +</p> +<p>“Why, O Ganassi, must Mohammedans never eat the flesh of the wild boar? It is forbidden that we touch pork, yet the Christians +find it good.” Ganassi’s brow clouded: +<a id="d0e726"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e726">67</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Have you never heard of the Christian’s God? Do you not know that we hate Christians because they believe a Son of God could +be killed by man? They call him Christ, but we know that the Almighty is Toohan, omnipresent, omnipotent and omniscient. Their +prophet Isa [Jesus] once visited the great Mahomet, and when Mahomet demanded that he divine what was in the room beyond, +Isa refused, saying that he had no wish to show power. + +</p> +<p>“‘Answer correctly, or you pay for it with your life!’ thundered Mahomet. Isa then replied that he had two strange animals +in the room. + +</p> +<p>“‘Wrong!’ cried Mahomet. ‘You shall now be killed. My two beloved grandchildren are behind those doors!’ but when they were +flung open, two filthy boars ran out; Isa had changed the children into pigs! And so, Piang, no true Mohammedan will eat the +flesh of the wild boar. Beware, lest you ever let a Christian hear this story; it is not for us to acknowledge that Isa is +greater than Mahomet.” +<a id="d0e733"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e733">68</a>]</span></p> +<p>Piang was shocked. No wonder his people abstained from the flesh of the boar. + +</p> +<p>“Can you tell me what makes the sea rise and fall, and why the tides rush in and flow out again?” asked Piang. + +</p> +<p>A smile broke over Ganassi’s leathery features. + +</p> +<p>“In a far distant sea lives a giant crab; when he goes into his hole, the water is pushed out, and when he comes forth for +food, the water rushes in.” It was so simple that Piang laughed heartily. The mina-bird, startled, squawked an admonition +and fluttered to Piang’s lap. + +</p> +<p>“Where do we go when we die,” asked the inquisitive boy. + +</p> +<p>Ganassi scouted the Christian’s belief that heaven is in the clouds. Were they not in the clouds now? + + +</p> +<p></p> +<div id="d0e747" class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p070.jpg" alt="On its neck it supported a weird creature" width="383" height="512"><p class="figureHead">On its neck it supported a weird creature</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>“When a child is born, the soul enters the body through the opening left in the skull. This hole soon closes, confining the +spirit within. When death comes to a household in Moroland, have you not seen the master of the house mount to the roof and +remain there through the night? <a id="d0e753"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e753">71</a>]</span>Well, that is to prevent the evil spirit, Bal-Bal, from entering. This dread creature sails through the air like a flying +Lemur (monkey), tears the thatch from the roof with his terrible curved nails, scatters the defenders, and licks up the body +with his forked tongue of fire. The soul of this deceased never reaches heaven. Your charm, Piang, will ward him off.” The +boy sat, mouth open, eyes staring. “A soul is guided to a cave that leads deep down in the earth, and there, between two gigantic +trees, stands Taliakoo, a giant, who tends the eternal fires. Taliakoo inquires of the newcomer what he has to say for himself, +and to the surprise of the soul, something within it answers. Conscience, the witness, replies, and according to the decree +of this strange arbiter, the fate of the soul is decided. If nothing but ill can be said for it, it is pitched into the fire; +if it has been good, it is allowed to pass on to the abode of the blessed. The soul that meets with neither fate, is punished +according to its sins: if it has lied, its mouth pains; if it has been a thief, its hands itch and burn, and eventually, after +the period <a id="d0e755"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e755">72</a>]</span>of punishment is over, it precedes to heaven, cleansed of its sins.” + +</p> +<p>The big ape, sleeping soundly, emitted a snore so human, that Piang laughed. + +</p> +<p>“Why does the packda look so like a man, Ganassi?” + +</p> +<p>“Because he once <i>was</i> a man,” was the startling reply. “He was lazy and, instead of working, climbed trees and hunted minas (monkey-nuts). A companion, +becoming vexed, uttered a curse on him and threw a stick at him. These things clung to the lazy man: the stick became a tail, +and the curse deprived him of speech. Ashamed of himself, he and his family took to the trees, never to return.” + +</p> +<p>Many questions were put to the wise old hermit, and his ready answers astonished, but satisfied, Piang. Night came on, and +the strange company lay down together under the shelter of the banian and slept. + +</p> +<p>Piang was very happy. He had reached Ganassi, was proclaimed the real charm boy, and was at last to receive the glorious charm. +Some <a id="d0e770"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e770">73</a>]</span>said it was a star tossed to Moroland by the Creator, that it was the emblem of power, and that he who wore it would be filled +with a divine understanding. Others believed it to be the great diamond of Borneo, captured many years before from the pirates +of that fierce land. Piang did not care which it proved to be, as long as it shone and sparkled with beauty. All agreed that +its brilliance dazzled the eye, that its magnificence was unrivaled. Ganassi had waited a hundred years for the charm boy +who was destined to wear it, and at last the star had proclaimed Piang to be the lucky boy. Through Piang’s dreams flitted +the visions of shimmering jewels of gold, and the happy smile on the boy’s lips made old Ganassi’s heart glad. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>“Up, up with you, sleepyhead!” called Ganassi. “The sun will catch you napping if you do not hurry.” + +</p> +<p>Piang sleepily rubbed his eyes and sat up. Horror and fright seized him as he beheld the body of the python curled up beside +him and the <a id="d0e778"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e778">74</a>]</span>packda contemplating him with indifference. From the doorway Ganassi smilingly watched him. + +</p> +<p>“Come, my subjects are assembling; they will all assist in the ceremony of the sacred charm.” The charm! Piang remembered +and jumped to his feet. Creatures from all over the mountain were answering Ganassi’s weird call; the air was full of fluttering +birds, and monkeys came swinging toward them. Ganassi gave to each a sweet or a fruit. + +</p> +<p>“Piang, no dato can boast of a grander court than Ganassi, eh?” chuckled the old man. + +</p> +<p>It was indeed marvelous. Ganassi seemed to reign among the jungle folk as royally as any king. He chastised, praised, petted, +and scolded; and one and all the beasts loved their wizened little master. Solemnly Ganassi went about his task. From his +bosom he took a small object, smoothed, and caressed it. Piang trembled with excitement. Ganassi called each animal, and they +responded to the beloved voice. + +</p> +<p>“Piang, my creatures approve my action. This is the sacred charm. One and all the animals <a id="d0e788"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e788">75</a>]</span>have blessed it, and through your life, if you have faith, nothing will harm you.” Piang’s eyes darted around the strange +circle, and, indeed, the animals accepted him as naturally as they did Ganassi. + +</p> +<p>“The time has come, Piang. The heavens have watched over you from babyhood, and you have proved your worth and bravery many +times. I am ready to reward you. Come!” + +</p> +<p>Trembling, the boy advanced. Kneeling before the hermit, Piang clasped his hands and prayed that he might be worthy of the +great honor about to be bestowed upon him. Gently the wise man laid his hands on Piang’s head; softly he muttered a few words; +then something dropped around the boy’s neck. + +</p> +<p>“You may rise, Piang. You are now invincible!” + +</p> +<p>Bounding to his feet, Piang clasped the charm. + +</p> +<p>“I cannot see it, Ganassi. May I unclasp it to behold its beauty and splendor?” Keenly the old man looked into the face of +the boy, measuring him, studying him. +<a id="d0e800"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e800">76</a>]</span></p> +<p>“And if it is not beautiful, shiny, and bright, boy, what then?” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, but it must be, Ganassi! It is the most valuable thing in the world!” + +</p> +<p>“You may unclasp it, Piang.” + +</p> +<p>Clumsily the boy fumbled with the fastenings; eagerly his eyes sought the charm. His face went blank; tears sprang to his +eyes. He was holding a tiny gourd, no larger than a monkey-nut, suspended from a necklace of polished crocodile teeth. His +disappointed eyes met Ganassi’s, still studying him. + +</p> +<p>“Are you not satisfied, Piang? Are you then unworthy of the great honor bestowed upon you? Do you think that to be of value +a thing must sparkle and shine?” Piang gathered himself, hid his disappointment, and bravely answered: + +</p> +<p>“I am satisfied.” + +</p> +<p>“Shake the gourd, Piang.” + +</p> +<p>A hollow rattle came from the immature growth, and Piang’s face brightened. + +</p> +<p>“Its worth may be inside. Who knows? Only Ganassi, the wonder man, and he will tell <a id="d0e819"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e819">77</a>]</span>no one.” The keen old eyes twinkled as they watched Piang’s face. + +</p> +<p>The mystery! It was again established, and Piang was happy. Maybe the precious stones were inside and some day would be revealed +to him! As if reading his thoughts, Ganassi said: + +</p> +<p>“The charm must remain intact to wield its spell; if the gourd should ever be broken or stolen, both you and the charm lose +the mystic power lately bestowed upon it. Piang, the source of power is faith! Believe, be honest, be true, and the world +holds naught but joy for you and Kala Pandapatan’s people.” + +</p> +<p>A silence fell upon them all. The solemn words had sobered Piang, and he gazed into the eyes of the wise man. + +</p> +<p>“Begone, boy. The sun rises, and you have many miles to go. To-night I will light the signal fires and tell your tribe that +you have come and gone, that Piang is charm boy of Kali Pandapatan’s people forever.” + + + +<a id="d0e829"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e829">78</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="d0e830" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="label">Fourth Adventure</h2> +<h2 class="normal">The Fire Tree</h2> +<p>The velvety dusk of the jungle was pierced here and there by the brilliant, crimson buds of the fire-tree. For weeks all Moroland +had waited for their coming, the heralds of the combat season. During the harvest time there is a truce in these turbulent +islands, but when the crops have been gathered, the natives become restless and long to sally forth to conquer. The myth that +victory comes only to the tribe whose fire-tree has bloomed is implicitly believed, and impatiently the Moros await this announcement +of the combat season. Paying no heed to their capital city, Manila, these merry little isles revel in intrigue, and there +is no sport in Moroland that can compare with the combat. Tribes go forth to conquer and enslave others; the men look forward +to it as an opportunity to prove their prowess; the women thrill at the possibility <a id="d0e837"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e837">79</a>]</span>of capture. True, they may become the slaves of some unscrupulous dato, but there is always the romantic chance that they +may fall into the hands of the hero of their dreams and become the favorite of his seraglio. + +</p> +<p>“Where is Piang?” Dato Kali Pandapatan addressed a copper-colored slave who salaamed and replied: + +</p> +<p>“In the jungle, O most high one, searching for the blooming fire branch.” + +</p> +<p>“It is well.” Kali Pandapatan, with folded arms, paused in the doorway of his hut, watching expectantly the only opening into +the frowning jungle. + +</p> +<p>“He comes! He comes!” rippled through the barrio. + +</p> +<p>The eager inhabitants gathered to learn if the time was yet ripe. Into their midst ran a slim, bronze lad, waving above his +head a branch, almost bare of green, but aflame with crimson blossoms. There was a hush. Women gathered their children to +them; men grasped their weapons more firmly, and the young boys looked with longing eyes at the fortunate Piang. +<a id="d0e849"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e849">80</a>]</span></p> +<p>“<i>Ooola!</i>” exclaimed Piang. Every lip repeated the word; every knee was bent, and the tribe lay prostrate at his feet; only old Kali +Pandapatan remained standing, eyeing Piang with satisfaction. For a full two minutes the crowd remained motionless. The palm-trees +whispered and crackled above them, and the river sent a soft accompaniment to the jungle music. To and fro above their heads +Piang majestically waved the branch, until finally one bold voice demanded: + +</p> +<p>“<i>Anting-anting!</i>” (“The charm, the charm!”) Piang defiantly bared his breast, exposing the sacred charm suspended from his necklace of crocodile +teeth. There was moaning in the crowd, sobs of excitement, and protests of impatience, but every head remained lowered until +the august relic was again covered. Piang began to chant in a high, nasal voice, and the others rose and joined in creating +a weird, monotonous drawl. Like a statue stood the boy, holding the branch high above his head while they circled round and +round him. Faster, faster they whirled; in a frenzy they shrieked; some fell and <a id="d0e860"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e860">81</a>]</span>others tramped them in their excitement. Suddenly the boy stamped his feet, uttering a sharp cry. Every eye turned toward +him. + +</p> +<p>“To the river!” he cried and lead the way. Two boys hurried forward and were on their knees in a twinkling, hollowing out +a place in the sand, dog fashion. With many incantations and prayers, the branch was planted in the hole, the damp sand laid +carefully around the base, and the two proud boys left to watch. If the flowers of the fire tree faded before the scorching +sun set, it was destined that the tribe would be unsuccessful in its ventures for the season; should the blooms defy the rays +of the sun until the dews of evening rested on its petals, old Kali Pandapatan could sally forth unafraid to meet his fierce +brothers of the jungle. + +</p> +<p>Patiently they waited through the long, hot day; many eyes were anxiously turned toward the sacred emblem, but none dared +approach. The little Moro boys, in whose care the branch had been left, squatted in silent patience. No butterfly was suffered +to light on the delicate petals, no droning bee allowed to gather the <a id="d0e866"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e866">82</a>]</span>honey of its cups. On dragged the sweltering afternoon. Piang and the dato were the only ones allowed to know that the branch +was still fresh, but only Piang knew that its flowers had been dipped into a cool stream before it came to the tribe to foretell +its victories or defeats. + +</p> +<p>“Allah, il Allah!” the call rang through the village. Sunset, the hour of prayer! Now, now they would know. Solemnly old Pandita +<span id="d0e870" class="corr" title="Source: Assin">Asin</span> led the chant while the Moros prostrated themselves in supplication, and the dying sun slipped over the mountains, touching +every tree and flower with its gold. + +</p> +<p>There was great feasting and celebration in the barrio that night. Women donned their most brilliant sarongs, tinted their +silver-tipped finger nails with henna, and streaked their brows with splotches of white rice paste. The men twisted their +hair up in gorgeous head-cloths, and the knot bristled with creeses. Suspended from their many-colored sashes were barongs, +campilans or bolos, and tiny bells were fastened into the lobes of their ears. The brilliantly <a id="d0e875"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e875">83</a>]</span>striped breeches seemed likely to burst, so tightly were they drawn over shapely limbs. + +</p> +<p>The branch had not withered. It had withstood the scorching rays of the sun. Kali Pandapatan was invincible. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>“Piang!” called Kali Pandapatan. + +</p> +<p>The noises of the barrio were hushed. Their dato had spoken. The name was repeated, and gradually the call reached the charm +boy, idly dangling his feet in a clear brook, attracting and scattering the curious fish. He sprang to his feet, listened, +and darted off. His sleek, well fashioned limbs glistened in the sunlight, and the sarong that was gracefully flung over one +shoulder floated out behind like a flame fanned by the wind. Twined in his long black hair was a wreath of scarlet fire flowers; +every face brightened as he fled past. + +</p> +<p>“You have again brought the sign, Piang. When do we fight?” asked Kali Pandapatan. + +</p> +<p>“Not until we have delivered the <i>siwaka</i> (tribute) to the sultan at Cotabato. The fire-tree <a id="d0e892"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e892">84</a>]</span>has not yet bloomed in the enemy’s country, and we may yet pass through safely,” Piang replied. + +</p> +<p>“You have spoken,” said the dato and laid his palms on the youth’s head. + +</p> +<p>Though the latent passion of battle stirred in the Moros’ breasts, they were compelled to heed. Piang had proved a wise charm +boy, and the tribe must obey him. Each season the siwaka must be carried over the steep, treacherous trail down to the coast, +and those detailed to accompany the slaves who carried the bags of rice and <i>comoties</i> (sweet-potatoes), dreaded the trip. Added to the pitfalls of the obscure trail, were hostile territories to be traversed, +and if the enemies’ fire-tree had bloomed, they would surely be attacked and probably despoiled of their cargo. + +</p> +<p>“We will need warriors to guard the siwaka, chief,” Piang reminded Kali, and the chief nodded and gave a quiet order. Every +man disappeared from the streets. When they returned, in place of the gaudy, tight trousers, they were wearing loose, black +pantaloons, the garb of battle. The women, true to the feminine nature, <a id="d0e903"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e903">85</a>]</span>wailed and cried aloud, but in their hearts they, too, were glad that the quiet, monotonous days were over, and that before +nightfall they might sleep in some strange cota (fort), slave or wife of the victorious dato. + +</p> +<p>“Piang,” murmured a soft voice at the charm boy’s elbow, and he turned to find the little slave girl, Papita, timidly looking +up at him. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Chiquita?</i>” (“Little one?”) he questioned. + +</p> +<p>“Sicto goes with you. Beware of him, for he would kill you!” + +</p> +<p>“I am not afraid,” proudly answered Piang, “but why would Sicto kill me?” + +</p> +<p>Solemnly the little girl touched Piang’s breast where lay hidden the sacred charm. + +</p> +<p>“He would kill you so that he might be charm boy of the tribe,” whispered the girl. Piang laughed gaily, patted his little +friend on the arm, and bounded to the head of the forming column. Nevertheless he noticed Sicto’s sly, surly glance as the +slaves and warriors bent before him. + +</p> +<p>Amid beating of tom-toms, wails of women, and howls of dogs, the column, single file, dipped into the jungle and was lost +to sight. +<a id="d0e922"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e922">86</a>]</span> +Anxiously Piang watched for signs of the fire-tree as they slipped along through the enemies’ country, but as yet the buds +had not stirred, and he was thankful that the warm rains had not come to coax them into glow. That whole day the party toiled +silently through the dense cogon grass that covered the mesa. High above their heads waved the wiry, straw-colored spines. +Its sharp edges cut into the flesh, tore through cloths, stinging and paining old wounds. Not a breath of air reached them +through the impenetrable mass, and the sun beat down on them mercilessly. For long stretches the path tunneled through the +grass, boring deeper into the tangle, and they were almost suffocated by the choking dust that stung their nostrils. + + +</p> +<p></p> +<div id="d0e925" class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p087.jpg" alt="“The boom! We must cut it!”" width="381" height="512"><p class="figureHead">“The boom! We must cut it!”</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>“<i>Iki!</i>” (“Beware!”) called Sicto. Every bolo was out, every savage ready, but the word was passed along the line that the leader, +Sicto, had stepped on a snake. Entirely surrounded by the cruel grass the column paused. The heat, increased by the oven-like +tunnel grew steadily worse, and those in the rear gasped and fought for breath. They could hear the scuffle as the <a id="d0e934"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e934">89</a>]</span>leaders fought the reptile, and the fetid odor of the dread creature added to their discomfort. Sicto had been swinging along +ahead, stepping lightly on the mattress-like turf, when he felt something move under his foot. It was well under the matted +grass, but it was wise to despatch the creature if possible. Piang came to his assistance, and the snake, probably gorged +with rotting meat, exuded a terrible odor as it was stabbed to death. Kicking the wriggling remains out of the path the column +pushed on, wondering if they would ever come to the end of the stifling tunnel. + +</p> +<p>“Will it rain soon, Piang?” panted Tooloowee, as he toiled along behind the charm boy. + +</p> +<p>“I cannot tell yet, but by sunset we shall know.” + +</p> +<p>Toward evening the grass thinned perceptibly, and the steaming, aching bodies felt the cool air rustling through the stalks. + +</p> +<p>“We are near the jungle; soon we shall be cool,” sighed Kali Pandapatan. Yes, it was growing cooler; they could breathe again, +but Piang knew that before morning they would be shivering with cold, that the rain would come in the night. He smelled it, +the rain that would <a id="d0e944"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e944">90</a>]</span>not come to help them through the arduous day. + +</p> +<p>When it came, there was a shout of joy. Kali looked anxiously at his sweating tribesmen. After the terrific heat of the day, +this rain would chill them, and fever would surely follow; he must keep them on the move. There was a murmur of protest as +the order was given to move; they had rested a scant two hours. By nine o’clock they were under way again, struggling with +the jungle as they had fought the mesa. The downpour was straight and steady. It burrowed through the thick foliage and ran +down the tree trunks in torrents. The footing became uncertain, and Piang warned Kali to look out for broken limbs. For many +yards the path lay along fallen tree trunks, slippery with moss and mold. The footing became so treacherous that the order +was given to crawl on all fours, and the progress was painfully slow and tedious. Frequently they strayed from the path and +were forced to halt. The torches at the head of the column twinkled and flickered fitfully, but they only seemed to make the +darkness more visible; they sputtered and flared, but the flames resisted <a id="d0e948"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e948">91</a>]</span>the rain, and to the weary Moros they seemed like good spirits sent to guide them through the terrible jungle night. + +</p> +<p>Palm leaves, strewn in the path, had long clusters of needle-like spines at their bases that pierced their feet, and the cry +“<i>tinick!</i>” (“thorns!”) rang out frequently through the night. Finally it became necessary to march close up, in solid line, each man +with his hand on the shoulder of the man in front. When the leader warned “<i>Cajui!</i>” (“Log!”), each repeated it as he stumbled over the obstacle, and if one fell, half the line would be bowled over. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Tubig Malakee!</i>” cried Piang. (“The big water!”) Yes, the dull murmur of the river was plainly heard through the dripping rain, and they +all quickened their pace in the desire to rid themselves of the jungle. Piang attempted to guide them across, but he walked +into the water and sank from sight, and there was a cry of horror, for it seemed that one of the many crocodiles had dragged +him under. When he came up sputtering and splashing, none the worse for his dip, he chided them for their little faith and +pointed <a id="d0e963"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e963">92</a>]</span>significantly to his charm. He had miscalculated in the blackness of the night and could not locate the ford. A drizzling +rain was still falling; great hairy-legged spiders skated over the water, making things grewsome; the large lily-pad leaves +moved suspiciously, so Kali gave the orders to camp for the rest of the night. + +</p> +<p>Silently the Moros prepared their camp. Deftly the ends of low-lying branches were pinioned to the ground with forked sticks; +over these supports hemp and banana leaves were strewn to shield the sleepers from the heavy dew and rain. After many attempts +a fire was coaxed into life, much to the dismay of the jungle folk. A beautiful golden fly-catcher, probably mistaking the +glare of the fire for dawn, awoke and began to sing at the top of its tiny voice; a parrot screamed lustily. A venerable old +monkey, sleepily rubbing its eyes, shook its fist, muttering profanely. Sicto, exasperated at the persistent maledictions, +raised his bow. + +</p> +<p>“Do not kill the monkey, Sicto,” warned Piang. “It is not good to kill in the jungle except for food or self-protection!” +<a id="d0e969"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e969">93</a>]</span></p> +<p>A scowl was the only reply, but the big mestizo lowered his bow and turned over on his bed of leaves. + +</p> +<p>“Kali, we are no longer safe,” Piang whispered as he crouched over the improvised bed of his chief. + +</p> +<p>“Sssshhhh,” he warned, finger on lip. “Do not wake the others.” Then he pointed toward a spot where hoards of fireflies clustered +around one tree, twinkling and swerving to and fro. It was a beautiful sight, but far from a novel one to these two. + +</p> +<p>“The fire-tree!” muttered Kali. + +</p> +<p>“Yes,” answered Piang. “The rain has brought the blooms to the valley, and we will be attacked to-morrow!” Silently they gazed +at the strange tree. Fireflies abandon every tree and shrub for the fire-tree the moment it puts forth its buds, and nothing +can coax them away until the ominous scarlet blossoms have drooped and fallen to the ground. + +</p> +<p>“We dare not cross the river now, Kali,” said Piang, “but we can build rafts and float down to Cotabato.” +<a id="d0e982"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e982">94</a>]</span></p> +<p>And so it was decided. Early in the muggy dawn the warriors set to work constructing rafts out of bamboo and ratan (palm), +and soon the siwaka was loaded and the journey continued by water. + +</p> +<p>Arrogantly Piang rode at the head of the procession, his proud little head crowned with a wreath of fire-tree blooms, the +corners of his raft decorated with sprigs of the flaming buds. Cautiously they poled down the swift stream, avoiding treacherous +logs and snapping crocodiles. Piang chuckled with delight as they stole along, for the enemy would not discover the ruse until +they were far away. + +</p> +<p>It was some time before Sicto was missed. His name was passed from raft to raft, but none had seen him that morning. At first +it was feared that one of the crocodiles had pulled him from a raft, but something seemed to tell Piang that the wily half-breed +had stolen away to warn the enemy of Kali’s strategy. Once the news of the rich booty to be captured and the prisoners to +be taken had reached the valley people, nothing <a id="d0e989"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e989">95</a>]</span>could keep them from pursuing, now that their fire-tree had bloomed. A solemn conclave was held. + +</p> +<p>The river is almost inaccessible from the jungle except at one point, the Big Bend. This is a favorite camping-ground of the +valley people during the combat season; here their sacrifices are offered, their victims thrown to the crocodiles; they exercise +full control of the river. If Sicto succeeded in warning the enemy before Kali reached that point there would be little hope +of escape. Another force would surely be posted where he had embarked, cutting Kali off from his reinforcements at home. It +was too late to attempt a retreat, however, hampered as they were with the cumbersome siwaka. Reach that bend first, they +must. + +</p> +<p>“The charm, Piang,” whispered Kali. Springing to his feet, the boy uttered a fierce “Oola.” Every head bowed, and the sacred +talisman was exposed. + +</p> +<p>“Forward, brothers!” he cried. “Forward with all your strength!” +<a id="d0e997"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e997">96</a>]</span></p> +<p>The sun came out, and the dripping jungle began to steam. Palm leaves were constructed into hats to guard against sunstroke. +Toward sunset they drew near the danger point. What was that monotonous sound dully vibrating through the jungle? Anxiously +all eyes turned toward Piang. + +</p> +<p>“It is well, brothers,” bravely comforted the boy. “Yes, that is the tom-tom of your enemy. Sicto has betrayed us, but have +no fear. Piang, the charm boy leads you; take courage, and Allah, the Merciful, will give you victory.” Piang commenced a +murmur of prayer, and the Moros, joining in, filled the fast-settling night with whispered invocations which drifted off through +the jungle. + +</p> +<p>Another council of war was held. + +</p> +<p>“Piang, if they have had time to lay the boom, what shall we do?” + +</p> +<p>“Go forward, Kali. Fight your way through the blockade,” answered the charm boy. “I will remain here with a few men to guard +to siwaka. Do you hide at the first bend until the moon gives you light, then strike!” +<a id="d0e1008"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1008">97</a>]</span></p> +<p>The astonished warriors looked with misgiving from one to the other, but Kali answered firmly: + +</p> +<p>“It shall be so, Piang.” + +</p> +<p>The Moros were quickly assembled for the advance, and Kali paused by the side of Piang’s raft: + +</p> +<p>“If we are driven back, Piang, I will give three calls of the mina-bird. Answer likewise and retreat as quickly as possible.” + +</p> +<p>“Forward, Kali Pandapatan,” answered Piang with great dignity. “We will not retreat.” + +</p> +<p>Like ghosts in the night the little handful of men parted from their fellows and courageously faced the river and its dangers. +The stream, swerving to the left, flows on to the apex of the Big Bend. As if regretting its departure from the true course, +it doubles back and returns to take up its original direction at a point separated from its first departure by only a few +rods. Between the two points is a waste of murky soil and sand, covered by dense growths of the jungle’s choicest variety +of obstacles. Gloomily <a id="d0e1021"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1021">98</a>]</span>Piang contemplated the morass that lay between him and freedom. Long he sat, looking into the distance where he could almost +see the river as it completed the curve and swept on to the ocean. What would he not give to be safely on the other side? +Suddenly he sat up very straight. Why not? The sand was soft, the current swift. If he could only make a narrow ditch across +the flats. Pulling his raft up to the right side of the river, he jumped to the bank, but when he sank ankle-deep in the soft, +sticky earth, he climbed hastily back. Poling along he searched for a solid footing, but everywhere the marshy soil gave, +and he abandoned his attempts to land. The night grew deeper, blacker. + +</p> +<p>“Why not, why not?” he whispered again. The others came scurrying up in response to his excited call. + +</p> +<p>“My brothers, Allah has sent me wisdom,” he announced. “It is your duty to obey me!” Eagerly they listened, glad of any distraction, +but when Piang explained that he wanted them to abandon their safe bamboo floats for the treacherous flats, home of crocodiles +and vermin, there <a id="d0e1027"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1027">99</a>]</span>was a murmuring protest. Anger blazed in Piang’s eyes. + +</p> +<p>“Am I not charm boy?” he demanded. “Any one who refuses to obey me will be thrown to the crocodiles!” Gradually the dominant +nature overruled their timidities, and the protests subsided. Following Piang’s directions, strips of bamboo were cut, and +the charm boy constructed light frames for his feet. They looked like snow-shoes, and when he bound one securely to each foot +and jumped lightly to the bank, there was a cry of surprise. Piang, the wonderful, was indeed sent by Allah to guide them! + +</p> +<p>In a twinkling each Moro was supplied with similar mud-shoes, and like giant land-crabs, they flitted off across the marsh. +Too wise to begin before reconnoitering, Piang led his men to the banks of the stream below to Big Bend. After hasty calculations +he set them to work digging toward the head waters, following a line of ratan which he stretched to guide them. + +</p> +<p>Faster, faster flew the scoops and broad knives; deeper, wider grew the ditch that was to form a new river-bed. Piang was +everywhere. He <a id="d0e1035"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1035">100</a>]</span>flew about on his light frames as lightly as a faun, directing the construction of new tools, calculating and measuring for +the ditch. + +</p> +<p>Once he heard a call from the man guarding the rafts. A troop of wild hogs, attracted by the comoties, was trying to reach +the rafts. Piang lighted a torch and hurled it among them. Crocodiles lurked near, and he ordered torches kept burning to +frighten them also. + +</p> +<p>New difficulties confronted Piang. Would the water not at first rush through the ditch with such force that the rafts would +be dashed to pieces? He held a branch in the current; it was torn from his grasp. With great foresight, he ordered all the +floats to be taken up the river and securely moored. Back to the ditch he flew. Yes, yes, it was going to be successful! Before +the attack was made by Kali Pandapatan, Piang would have the rafts through the cut-off, safely on their journey to the estuary. +How surprised the dato would be when Piang advanced against the enemy from the other side of the Big Bend! He laughed softly, +hugging himself in boyish delight. +<a id="d0e1041"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1041">101</a>]</span></p> +<p>Away he pattered toward some men who were apparently in difficulty. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Halamantek!</i>” (“Leeches!”) they called. They were pulling the slothful creatures off each other, but as soon as they freed themselves +from the pests, more fell from above or crept up from the mud. Piang had foreseen this difficulty and had supplied himself +with a small gourd filled with cocoanut oil, strongly saturated with cinchona (quinine). Offering some of his small store +to the men, they gratefully rubbed the mixture into their flesh and bent to their task again. Piang exhorted them to work, +warning them if the ditch was not completed before moonrise, all would be lost, and off he danced blending in with the night +and its secrets like a picturesque <i>pampahilep</i> (jungle imp). + +</p> +<p>Only Moros could have accomplished so difficult a task in the dark. With a will they sturdily plied the crude tools and before +the blackness of the night had been lifted by the rising moon, the excited little party was crowding around Piang as he examined +the few remaining feet to be accomplished. Like a general <a id="d0e1054"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1054">102</a>]</span>meeting a crisis, Piang sharply gave his orders: + +</p> +<p>“Tooloowee, take your pole and stand on the far side of the ditch. When I give the signal, push the dyke with all your might.” +He stationed another powerful Moro opposite Tooloowee. + +</p> +<p>“Bungao, do you hasten to the rafts and prepare to resist the first flood that will sweep through the ditch.” + +</p> +<p>When all was ready Piang raised his hand and the struggle began. Little by little the soft mud was worked away, and the current, +feeling the banks weaken, seemed to lose interest in its natural bed. At first the stream only caressed its new-found outlet, +but gradually it concentrated its forces, and, with a mighty rush, attacked the slight remaining resistance and went thundering +off into the ditch. A smothered cry went up from the Moros: + +</p> +<p>“Piang! Piang!” How they loved their wise little charm boy! + +</p> +<p>But the work was not yet completed. Piang let go his anchorage and headed for the mouth of <a id="d0e1066"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1066">103</a>]</span>the ditch. The water was rapidly widening the work of their hands, but in places the cut-off was barely wide enough to let +the long slender floats by, and the water was rushing through with terrific force. The moon trembled on the brink of the jungle. +Would they reach the other side in time to aid Kali? Suppose he was driven back before Piang and his men could attack from +the other side? + +</p> +<p>“<i>Ala! ala!</i>” (“Quickly! quickly!”) Piang called softly. His raft came up with a sudden jerk, almost throwing him into the seething, muddy +torrent. Other rafts bumped into his, and soon a blockade was forming as the swift current bore them down upon him. Piang +cut and slashed at the banks, tearing away protruding vines and accumulating driftwood. The moon, the moon, would it wait? +Frantically he toiled while Tooloowee held off the other rafts with his long pole. When Piang’s float was finally released, +it bounded joyously along, nosing first one bank, then the other. The river! He could see it! Only a few rods more! + +</p> +<p>At the mouth of the ditch there was more trouble. <a id="d0e1075"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1075">104</a>]</span>Mud and debris had collected along the sides, but these were quickly worked through and they passed into the main river. Little +short of a miracle had been performed. The ditch was growing wider and deeper every moment and judging from the enormous flow +of water, it would not be long before the river deserted its circuitous route in favor of this direct one. + +</p> +<p>“Quick! quick!” whispered Piang. “Bungao, bind the siwaka rafts together and head for Cotabato. We will overtake you before +sunrise.” A faint cry reached them. Kali had begun the attack. In an agony of suspense the brave Moros worked their way up +toward the Big Bend. Suddenly Piang grasped Tooloowee’s arm and pointed toward a streak that ran across the river. + +</p> +<p>“The boom! We must cut it!” They made a dash toward the obstacle that stood in Kali’s path, but an arrow whizzed by their +heads. + +</p> +<p>“Tooloowee, we have been discovered. I go to cut the way!” and before the astonished Tooloowee could prevent, Piang had dived +into the water and disappeared. + +</p> +<p>“Piang, the crocodiles, the crocodiles!” wailed <a id="d0e1085"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1085">105</a>]</span>Tooloowee, but the charm boy could not hear as he slipped up the muddy river, swimming easily under water. Just as Kali was +preparing to retreat, driven back by the fierce storm of arrows, he gave the signal that had been agreed upon. Three loud +calls in imitation of the mina-bird went wailing through the night. What was Kali’s surprise to hear the answer a few yards +in front of him! And what was that dark shape bobbing up and down on the boom? + +</p> +<p>While he watched, amazed, the big clumsy logs divided, and swung slowly out, leaving the channel clear. Piang had severed +the ratan thongs. + +</p> +<p>“Lééééé lelele ouiiiiii!” crashed through the night, and Kali recognized his tribal war-cry. + +</p> +<p>“Piang! Piang!” he cried. The dark shape, clinging to the drifting boom answered, and Kali rushed toward it. Before the enemy +could gather their scattered wits, the whole party was sweeping by, on toward freedom. As Kali bore down on Piang, the boy +raised himself to meet the raft. It was coming at a terrific rate, and he feared it would knock him off the boom; measuring +<a id="d0e1093"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1093">106</a>]</span>the distance, he prepared to leap. On came the raft, Kali leaning far over the side, arms extended to grab the boy. When Kali +was only a few yards off, Piang screamed: + +</p> +<p>“<i>Boia! boia!</i>” (“Crocodile! crocodile!”) The men on the raft saw the water stir and hurled spear and arrow, but they glanced off the scaly +hide. It was a race with death, and what a miserable death for Piang, their idol! The boy grew cold and sick as he waited. +Suddenly the raft paused, held in check by Kali’s pole. Piang almost fainted. What was his chief doing? In a moment he realized +that the quick action had saved his life. The raft swerved, bumped against the crocodile, and came between it and Piang. The +next moment Piang was in Kali’s arms. + +</p> +<p>In the light of the gray dawn, Sicto watched these two as they gazed into each other’s eyes; they swept triumphantly by, heedless +of flying arrows. The radiant fire-tree blooms still clustered around Piang’s head, and his sacred charm gleamed in the early +light. Firmly believing that spirits had aided Piang in his remarkable feat, <a id="d0e1102"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1102">107</a>]</span>Sicto trembled with fear, and, with a last glance at the victorious charm boy, he turned and fled into the jungle. + +</p> +<p>Wonderingly, Kali Pandapatan and his followers viewed the new cut-off as they floated by. Amazed, they listened to the marvelous +tale. Old Dato Kali Pandapatan laid his hands once again on his favorite’s head: + +</p> +<p>“Little brother,” he said, “this shall be known as Piang’s Cut-off. Some day you will be the greatest dato in Mindanao.” + + + +<a id="d0e1108"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1108">108</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="d0e1109" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="label">Fifth Adventure</h2> +<h2 class="normal">Riding the Cataract</h2> +<p>News that a strange craft had put into Cotabato reached Piang in his mountain home. Hurriedly he gathered his few weapons +together and started down the trail. He passed many traders and venders, who had also heard of the boat, and he hastened his +steps in his desire to be there early. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Un-di?</i>” (“Whither?”) called Sicto as Piang trotted past him. + +</p> +<p>“To the barrio,” replied Piang. Sicto hurried to keep up with him, but Piang had no wish to be in company with the ne’er-do-well +Moro boy, and he did not try to conceal his feelings. The natural dignity of the Oriental kept Sicto from displaying his anger +at the repulse, but he sullenly slackened his pace and registered a black mark against this haughty Piang. +<a id="d0e1123"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1123">109</a>]</span></p> +<p>Piang loved to be alone; his playmates were too noisy, too talkative; he, too, loved to chatter and play games at times, but +now in the jungle, as the morning light slowly broke through the damp foliage, he wished to be alone and watch nature unfold +to the coming day. It seemed to him that the huge elephant ears lifted their dew-weighted leaves and shook themselves in the +gentle wind. The monkeys peeped out at him and continued to make their toilet undisturbed. Other travelers startled the little +creatures into watchfulness, but Piang came upon them so silently, so peacefully, that they scarcely noticed him. + +</p> +<p>There was one spot, half-way down the trail which he wanted to reach alone; there the jungle seemed to part, as if to grant +a glimpse of the harbor below. He quickened his stride, and as he passed a party of men one of them called to him, “You will +be first to-day, little fleet one.” So there was none before him. He was glad, and when he came within sight of the clearing, +he rejoiced in his solitude. He wondered if the boat was a vinta from Borneo, or if it was loaded <a id="d0e1128"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1128">110</a>]</span>with copra for Japan. There now, when that mist lifted, he would know. + +</p> +<p>As the beautiful harbor broke upon his sight, Piang paused, holding his breath, for out of the boat, the only one in view, +smoke was pouring. It was on fire! But why were the people not trying to save the cargo? A huge black stick standing in the +middle of the hull was belching smoke. While he was regretting that he would be too late to assist at the rescue, he was startled +by a thin white stream spurting out of the mast-head. Gradually he connected it with the shrill whistle that pierced his ears. + +</p> +<p>Piang wanted to run back, to warn the others that some strange monster had sailed into their midst; but he saw that his brothers +in the barrio were calmly watching the thing, and as it did not seem to hurt them, he took courage and dashed on down the +trail into the jungle. All the rest of the journey he strained his ears to catch that shrill voice, which he was now sure +came from the boat. As he flew through the silent forest he recalled the tales of the demons that the wise men talked about, +and he decided to approach <a id="d0e1134"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1134">111</a>]</span>the thing with caution. Finally he stood on the shore, and there before his eyes was a boat that seemed to be alive. It was +breathing. But where were its sails? How did it move? Clusters of natives, their fear stilled by curiosity, watched the approach. +Breathlessly they waited. It was coming toward the tiny wharf, and just as it settled alongside, a piercing screech from it +sent them tumbling over each other in a mad attempt to get away. From the safety of trees and huts they waited. Big men, pale +and straight, walked from the boat and beckoned them to descend. Cautiously the more daring ones responded, and soon the whole +population was gathered around the visitors. + +</p> +<p>Curious to see what the strangers were showing the dato, Piang slipped quietly up behind and caught sight of the most beautiful +colored cloth he had ever seen. “Bandana,” the pale man called it. Piang longed to possess it for his mother; how she would +love to wear it for her gala head-dress! The sailor then produced a tiny object that glistened and sparkled in the sun; it +was about as large as the palm of Piang’s hand <a id="d0e1138"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1138">112</a>]</span>and very thin. The Moros were very much excited over it, and when Piang reached up on tip-toes to peer through the crowd, +he cried aloud, for there, staring back at him was a boy he had seen somewhere. The little brown face and the piercing black +eyes, the long hair twisted in a knot with the ends flying loose, were all strangely familiar. It was—Piang! “Mir-ro,” he +repeated after the white man when his scattered wits permitted, and the crowd had ceased its merriment at his expense. The +Moros were more interested in the knives, tobacco, and strange food that the strangers had brought than in the red bandana +handkerchief and the toy mirror; but Piang longed to carry the two things that had caught his eye back to his mother, and +he was silently gazing at them when Sicto, attracted by Piang’s admiration, picked the mirror up to look at it. + +</p> +<p>Before Piang realized it, Sicto was negotiating with the owner, offering in trade his brass buyo, or betel-box, used for containing +a preparation of the betel pepper, extensively chewed in the East. Why had Piang not brought his brass? He <a id="d0e1142"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1142">113</a>]</span>would run and fetch it; but the man would not wait. Just as he saw the things about to pass into the hands of his rival, he +remembered his ring. Attracting the attention of the trader, he quickly unscrewed the tiny center and proudly displayed a +few glittering flakes; Piang did not know that they were gold dust; but the trader whistled a low note of surprise and called +one of his shipmates aside. The Moro boy had seen the Japanese trade whole shiploads of copra for the shiny stuff, so, when +he had found some in the sand one day, he had gathered it. + +</p> +<p>When the trader made it clear to Piang that he could have the treasures for more of the flakes, he was delighted, and without +a moment’s delay started off up the trail, not deigning to glance at the disappointed Sicto. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>Up, up, he climbed. Heat, thirst, nothing slackened his pace. Arriving at his home, he flew to the lake, and, without a word +to any one, jumped into his banco and pushed out into the water. Sweat poured down his face; mosquitos buzzed around his head: +but he had no time to <a id="d0e1150"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1150">114</a>]</span>build a smudge. He must hurry, or the strange boat would leave the island and take forever the treasures Piang so coveted. + +</p> +<p>Soon he struck the current, and when he felt the boat settle into it he dropped over the side, holding on to the outriggers, +and let the boat pull him through the cool water. He noticed another banco in the distance and wondered what brought another +person out on the lake in the heat, but the mosquitos occupied all his attention, and he dived and swam under the water to +avoid them, soon forgetting the other boatman. + +</p> +<p>Which stream had he paddled up before, when he had found the bright sand? He examined the shore carefully as he climbed into +the boat. It must be there. Yes, he remembered the orchids in that tree. Cautiously he guided the banco to the mouth of the +creek, and he shuddered as he caught sight of a shiny black object slipping into the water. It was a harmless snake, but Piang +did not like snakes and he hurried past the spot. Gradually he lost sight of the lake and the sun; overhanging vegetation +and fallen trees engulfed him. At times he could not use his paddle, and <a id="d0e1156"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1156">115</a>]</span>cautiously avoiding the thorns and poisoned things, he pulled the boat along from above. Soon this little stream would take +him into the big river where he had found the pretty sand. + +</p> +<p>Piang was startled by a sound behind him. Surely he had heard a paddle. But all was silence when he paused to listen. When +he came to the river he shouted with delight, for his journey was half over, and there in the sun sparkled his treasure. Taking +his gourd from the boat, he filled it with sand and then started the long process of washing it away. Always in the bottom +would be left a few of the bright grains. These he poured on a leaf, but he discovered in dismay that they stuck there, and +when he tried to brush them off, they sank into the leaf. + +</p> +<p>While he was pondering on his predicament he heard the chatter of a hablar-bird, and he chuckled to himself. He searched his +banco for his bow and arrows, but was astonished to find only the bow. What a misfortune! He must have lost the arrows on +the trail. Nothing daunted, little Piang set about his task in another manner. <a id="d0e1162"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1162">116</a>]</span>Scattering a handful of parched corn in a clearing, he laid the noose of his rope around it, and taking the end of it in his +hand, silently withdrew into the thicket and waited. + +</p> +<p>Soon the big bird discovered the handy meal and, loudly proclaiming its rights to possession, flapped its way to the earth +and lighted right in Piang’s noose. The hablar-bird fluttered and chattered as it settled to the task of filling its craw +with the good food. Cautiously Piang watched his chance and, with a deft twitch of the rope, secured the noose around the +bird’s foot. Such screaming and flapping! “Now you be good bird, and I no hurt you,” Piang admonished. Catching hold of the +creature behind the head, Piang held it firmly and quickly plucked three large feathers from its brilliant plumage. He then +set it free and laughed to see it searching for its lost glories. + +</p> +<p>Piang would have enjoyed watching it, as it scolded him from a high limb, but he could not delay and he set about his task +quickly. Cutting off the end of each quill, he scraped it clean inside and washed the pithy part out. He had seen <a id="d0e1168"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1168">117</a>]</span>his father prepare a quill in this way for packing tobacco-powder. + +</p> +<p>When these receptacles were ready to receive the gold-dust, he began washing the sand again; and when he had secured enough +to fill all three quills he stuck a piece of green banana on the ends for a stopper. Now he would have the treasures for his +mother—that beautiful cloth and the funny, thin thing that played pranks on you when you looked into it. + +</p> +<p>What was that sound? Surely some one was spying on him. In a flash he remembered the banco on the lake, the other sounds he +had heard. Also he remembered that Sicto wanted the same treasures that he coveted. He had been followed by the bully, and +now, without his bow and arrows, he was helpless. To gain the lake again, he must pass through that treacherous creek, and +he knew that Sicto would think nothing of robbing him and hastening to the village to buy the treasures with Piang’s hard-earned +bright sand. Somewhere those wicked eyes were watching him from the foliage, but Piang bravely covered his misgivings. +<a id="d0e1174"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1174">118</a>]</span></p> +<p>There were two trails to the village; one lay to the west through the lake that he had crossed; the other was straight ahead, +down the river. But there were cataracts on this river, and Piang wondered if he could make his way on foot from the head +of the first one to the right trail. He decided to take the risk and quickly headed his banco in that direction. As he started +down the river, he heard a howl of rage, and glancing back, saw Sicto preparing to follow. + +</p> +<p>So! It was to be a race! Piang had foiled the bully, and his little heart beat faster as he realized the consequences if Sicto +should catch him. Piang had a good start, but the river was so treacherous, the eddies so powerful, that sometimes his boat +seemed to stand still or almost turn around when it was caught by the counter-current. How he loved his slim little craft! +Whenever possible, it obeyed his wish, and he chuckled to see Sicto struggling with his heavy boat. If he could only reach +the first head-water and land on the opposite shore, he would not fear defeat. For who was more fleet-footed than Piang, who +more able to ferret <a id="d0e1179"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1179">119</a>]</span>his way through the almost impenetrable jungle? + +</p> +<p>Cautiously he watched the shore; he had been this way only once before, and wondered if he could remember where the trail +began at the water’s edge. The current was so swift here that it was hardly necessary to paddle at all; so he rested to examine +the shore. + +</p> +<p>But what was the matter with Sicto? Why had he stopped paddling? In a flash it came over Piang that the cataract was near, +and he started to back water with all his might. To his horror he found that he could not control the boat; fight as he would, +it paid no heed to his struggle, but dashed on toward the waterfall. At first Piang thought he would swim, but realized that +he would be swept over just the same. There was only one thing to be done—he must ride the cataract. Sicto was left far behind, +clinging to the bank, watching with a sneer the boy going as he thought, to his death. He wondered why Piang was standing +up in the banco; surely it would be best to lie flat in the boat and cling to the bottom. + +</p> +<p>Gracefully Piang poised his body for the dive. <a id="d0e1187"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1187">120</a>]</span>The feathers were safely thrust into his long hair, and his bolo secured in his belt. With hands outstretched above his head, +he waited for the great moment. He knew that if he was skilful he could clear the dangerous waters below the falls and either +swim to the shore or reach his banco. Faster, faster went the boat, and his little heart thumped so that he feared it would +burst. He tried to remember that this was not such a dangerous feat; others had accomplished it, and he could, if he was careful. +The drop was only a few yards, but the danger lay in the shoals at the foot of the falls. What a beautiful sight Piang was, +poised on the brink of that foaming cataract, the black jungle for a background! As he felt the banco quiver and twist he +prepared for the dive. Finally the boat reached the crest and, with a lurch, shot from under the boy as he sprang far out +into space. It seemed an eternity to Piang before he plunged into the waters below; then he sank down, down. The roaring and +thundering deafened him, and he wondered if he should ever stop tumbling over in the water. It tossed him, tore from his hands +any support he <a id="d0e1189"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1189">123</a>]</span>was able to grasp, and finally, after almost depriving him of breath, left him floating on the surface of a calm pool. How +delicious the rest seemed! How tired he was! As he lay there on his back, he watched the water pour over the rocks above his +head, and marveled that he had accomplished it all so easily. + + +</p> +<p></p> +<div id="d0e1192" class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p122.jpg" alt="With hands outstretched above his head, he waited for the great moment." width="369" height="512"><p class="figureHead">With hands outstretched above his head, he waited for the great moment.</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>Gradually Piang regained his composure, and his first thought was for the quills. Yes, they were still safe, and he must hurry. +Not fearing Sicto’s interference any more, he began to wonder how he should find the trail. Searching the river for his banco, +he discovered it caught by some reeds near the shore. It was easy to swim on that side of the river; so he slowly made his +way to the overturned canoe, deftly righting it, and in a moment was over the side, searching for the extra paddle he always +kept tied in the bottom. Fortunately it had not been torn away, and avoiding the rapids, he hugged the shore and finally resumed +his journey down the river. + +</p> +<p>What a wonderful experience Piang had had! How he would boast of his bravery, Moro fashion, and maybe the wise men would praise +him. <a id="d0e1200"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1200">124</a>]</span>As he paddled down the river he kept his eyes open for trails; and when he heard the next cataract thundering its menace in +the distance, he decided to land and search the jungle for a path. Beaching his banco, he hid it in the undergrowth, and, +carefully avoiding the stinging vines, crept into the shadow of the jungle. + +</p> +<p>The great silence was everywhere, and Piang wondered if he could trust his instinct to lead him aright. The heavy vines obstructed +his passage, and he was forced to cut and hew his way through the edge of the forest. Nature does her best to protect the +jungle, for always, on the edges, bamboo, and <i>bajuca</i> (pronounced bah-hoo-kah) vie with each other in forming an impenetrable wall; but after the first few yards the obstinacy +of the vines seems to relax, their sentinel duty over. + +</p> +<p>Luckily for Piang, the jungle was well supplied with paths here, and he soon found the one leading down to the barrio. His +heart was light, now, and he threw back his head and shouted with glee as he remembered Sicto, pale with terror, lest he too +be swept over the cataract. Very <a id="d0e1209"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1209">125</a>]</span>quickly his exultation subsided, however, when he realized that Sicto could easily be on this same trail, and he redoubled +his efforts as he imagined he heard twigs snapping behind him. What if the boat had already gone. What if its coveted treasures +were lost forever? + +</p> +<p>From his customary trot Piang broke into a run, and, panting and sweating, pushed forward. Soon the trail joined the one he +had taken that morning, and in a moment he would come to the clearing where he had first seen the strange boat. Yes, there +it was; ugly, cross-looking, without one of those bright-patched sails that decorated all the boats Piang had ever seen. But—was +it moving? With a cry, Piang started forward as the white smoke appeared, and the shriek echoed and reëchoed through the jungle. +Fury, resentment, and determination flashed across his face; with a howl he darted down the trail. There was only a little +way to go now, and he would run like the wind. Friends and strangers tried to speak to him as he approached them on the trail, +but he brushed them aside impatiently and rushed onward. +<a id="d0e1213"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1213">126</a>]</span></p> +<p>With his last bit of breath he stumbled through the barrio, but the boat was steadily moving out to sea. He threw himself +on his face and beat the wharf with his clenched fists. All was lost—the beautiful “ban-da-na” for his mother, the “mir-ro,” +too! An exclamation from one of the men arrested his attention, and he sprang to his feet in an instant. The boat had stopped; +and—could he believe his eyes?—the man with the treasures was getting into a small skiff and was beckoning to Piang! + +</p> +<p>Quickly the boy responded. Making sure that the precious quills were safe, he dived into the sea and struck out toward the +approaching boat. When they pulled him over the side, a cheer went up from the Moros on the bank and was answered by another +from the strange boat. Eagerly Piang searched the boat for the two objects so dear to his heart, but the trader silently tapped +the ring and waited. Slyly the boy considered. Finally he drew forth one quill and offered it to the man. He handed Piang +the red calico handkerchief, saying “ban-da-na.” Eagerly the boy grabbed it. Guardedly the two contemplated <a id="d0e1218"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1218">127</a>]</span>each other. The trader reached into his pocket and produced the toy mirror, surrounded by colored pins; Piang offered to trade +for another quill, but the man shook his head. Piang resolutely shook his, and the owner intimated that the trade was over +by slipping the mirror back into his pocket. Piang could not stand the suspense, despite his passion for making a good trade, +so he thrust the other quill into the stranger’s hand, grasped the treasure, and, saluting them in his dignified fashion, +slipped over the side and was off. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>When Sicto slunk into the hill barrio that night he was anxious to avoid Piang, but our hero was not concerned about him at +all. Around the great fire in the center of the village were seated all the important members of the tribe, and Sicto’s envy +was complete when he saw that Piang’s mother was the object of adoration. There she sat, the coveted “ban-da-na” crowning +her stately head, and around her neck was suspended the funny thing that laughed back at you. Silently she offered each member +of the circle one of the <a id="d0e1224"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1224">128</a>]</span>colored pins, and when all were supplied, they fell to the task of picking their teeth, at intervals reverently examining +the instrument. When the allotted period had elapsed, Piang’s mother again extended the mirror, and when each one had gazed +into the depth, the pin was replaced, later to be handed on to a new comer. + +</p> +<p>Sicto had joined the less fortunate persons who were watching the ceremony from a distance. Only the elect were permitted +to approach the circle. From his place of honor Piang glanced loftily in their direction, and as his eyes met Sicto’s, his +triumph was complete. Under Piang’s steady gaze, the bully quailed and, dropping his eyes, shambled off into the darkness. + + + +<a id="d0e1228"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1228">129</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="d0e1229" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="label">Sixth Adventure</h2> +<h2 class="normal">The Jungle Menace</h2> +<p>Dato Kali Pandapatan had declared a three days’ holiday in honor of Piang’s safe return from his long journey to the haunt +of Ganassi, the wonder man. That one so young had accomplished the difficult task proved to the tribe conclusively that Piang +was indeed the chosen of Allah, the charm boy by divine right. Kali was glad of the opportunity to plunge his people into +gaieties, for a mysterious shadow had hovered over the barrio for a week, and he hoped to dispel the effects of a recent disaster +by merriment and fiesta. In the night an infant had disappeared from its hammock under the mango-tree and no trace of it had +ever been found. The mother, who had been sleeping on the ground near her babe, told a strange story of being awakened by +a suffocating pressure on her chest; <a id="d0e1236"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1236">130</a>]</span>as she stretched out her hand in the dark, she encountered a cold, clammy mass that moved under her touch. She must have fainted, +for when she was able to scream for assistance, her baby was gone, and there were no tracks in the sand. The river was searched, +but the crocodile pickets were intact; no monster from the river had broken through the barriers. + +</p> +<p>The ominous whisper, “Bal-Bal,” passed from lip to lip. Only that supernatural jinn could have whisked the infant from their +midst; only Bal-Bal, with his demon body, sailing through the air on enormous wings, could have descended upon them so silently, +so stealthily. Fearfully the wise men kept watch for the return of Bal-Bal, whose fateful visits were believed to come in +pairs. + +</p> +<p>At first the news of the fiesta failed to rouse the people from the lethargy into which they had sunk, but gradually their +pleasure-loving natures responded, and preparations were begun for the three days’ play. + +</p> +<p>“Goody-goody!” exclaimed Papita, the little slave girl, dancing about, clapping her hands. <a id="d0e1244"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1244">131</a>]</span>“We are to have the macasla fiesta, Piang. Just think, we are to go to the ocean to-morrow!” Piang’s newly acquired dignity +would not permit him to respond to Papita’s levity, but he secretly rejoiced, too, over the prospects of fun and excitement +at the macasla. + +</p> +<p>Runners were sent into the jungle to procure the all-important macasla herb, and that night the mixture was prepared. Macasla, +chilli-peppers, carot, and tobah shrub were pounded together in an old dug-out canoe. Wood-ashes, earth, alcohol, and water +were added, and the mixture was allowed to ferment. Early the next morning nearly all the inhabitants embarked upon the short +journey to Parang-Parang, their seaport barrio. Every available boat was filled with the merry throng, and the river sang +a soft accompaniment to their chatter; pet monkeys, parrots, and mongoosen joined in the hubbub, and the din echoed through +the forest, to be taken up by nature’s wild children. Bal-Bal was forgotten, for the moment, by all except the bereaved parents, +who had remained behind with the aged, to mourn their loss. +<a id="d0e1248"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1248">132</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I see the ocean! Oh, I saw it first!” cried Papita, nearly upsetting the banco in her glee. “Piang, do stop being so solemn +and look—over there—through the trees!” + +</p> +<p>“I saw the ocean long ago, Papita,” answered the boy with exaggerated dignity. + +</p> +<p>With a sigh the girl turned away, despairing of drawing him into sociability. Piang, the playfellow, had vanished, and Piang, +the charm boy, was so superior, so awe-inspiring. Out of the corner of his eye Piang watched her. He longed to frolic and +play, as of old, but the weight of the tribe was on his young shoulders, and he must put aside childish things. With folded +arms he watched the revelers; his heart beat violently, but, to the envy and admiration of all, he retained his dignity and +rigidity. + +</p> +<p>The travelers gave a shout as they rounded a bend and came upon the sea. The curving coast line seemed to be ever smiling +as the waves wooed it with cajoling and caressing whispers. + +</p> +<p>The tide was on the turn; not a moment was to be lost. Men, women, and children assembled about the dug-out, carrying wicker +baskets <a id="d0e1259"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1259">133</a>]</span>which they filled with the macasla mixture. Scattering quickly along the extensive shoals, they ran into the water, waist +deep, immersing the baskets, jerking them about until the macasla was all washed out; slowly they retreated to the shore. +Impatiently they waited five, ten minutes; then things began to happen. Crabs abandoned their holes and scurried about aimlessly; +children, wild with delight, pursued and captured the bewildered creatures, tossing them into a brass pot of water over the +fire. Small fish came gasping to the top; finally large ones began to show signs of distress. Screaming and laughing at the +top of their voices, the Moros pursued; the men harpooning the largest fish, the women skilfully dipping up the smaller ones +with nets. Helplessly the beautiful, rainbow-tinted creatures floated about, their opalescent hues fading soon after the Moros +took them from the water. Monsters over a yard long fought for their freedom; giant crabs and shrimp struggled in the nets. +A <i>liendoeng</i> (water-snake), brilliantly striped with red and black, made the women scream with fright. Dashing among them, <a id="d0e1264"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1264">134</a>]</span>laughing and yelling as merrily as the other boys, Piang pursued the offending reptile, here, there, and finally grabbed the +wriggling creature and ran to the beach. + +</p> +<p>“Ah là là là lélé!” he cried, dancing and jumping about, waving the snake above his head. + +</p> +<p>“Oh, goody! Piang has come back to us,” cried the delighted Papita. “You will not frown and scowl again, will you, Piang?” + +</p> +<p>A shadow fell upon the manly young brow of Piang. He had transgressed; he had forgotten his responsibility for the moment +and had allowed his glee to banish the dignity of his calling: Throwing the snake into the basket, he quietly walked away +from the merry-makers. + +</p> +<p>Crowds of friendly natives swarmed along the beach, hoping the kill would be great enough to supply food for all. At other +times the Moros would have preserved any surplus fish, but those caught under the influence of macasla cannot be cured or +dried, as they soon putrify. The macasla only blinds them temporarily, however, and those fortunate enough to escape soon +recover, suffering no ill effects. Ten canoes, full of splendid <a id="d0e1274"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1274">135</a>]</span>fish, were the reward of the macasla fiesta. A huge fire was built on the beach, and the small fish, stuffed into green bamboo +joints, were thrown in the ashes; larger ones were sprinkled with <i>lombak</i> dust (seasoning) and wrapped in pisang leaves. Weird instruments made their appearance: drums of bell-metal, jew’s-harps +of bamboo. The <i>gansas</i>, a flute that the performer plays from one nostril, would have distracted an American’s attention from the music, holding +him in suspense, anticipating the dire consequences of a sneeze. + +</p> +<p>Gradually the monotonous music stirred the savages to action. Solemnly they formed a circle around the fire, arms extended, +lightly touching each other’s finger-tips. To and fro they swayed in time to the crude music, and when the drums thundered +out a sonorous crescendo, they crouched to the earth, springing up in unison, uttering fearful yells. When the individual +dancing commenced, exhausted members began to fall out, leaving the youth and vigor of the tribe to compete for the honors. +A maiden must prevent a youth from confronting her; the youth, <a id="d0e1284"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1284">136</a>]</span>while attempting to gain his position, must beware lest the maiden present her back to him. Fast and furiously they whirled +and dodged, and a shout went up from the bystanders as each unfortunate dancer was compelled to retire. Finally there were +only three contestants left; Papita, Piang, and Sicto. Gracefully the little slave girl eluded the boys; slyly she circumvented +their attacks. Her little bare feet twinkled daintily about on the sand; her brass anklets jingled merrily; and the fireflies, +confined in her hair, glowed contentedly. + +</p> +<p>Now the hands must be held behind the back at all times during the dance, and when Sicto, exasperated at the girl’s nimbleness, +attempted to grab her, Piang protested loudly. A surly growl was Sicto’s response, and during the hot dispute that followed, +as the dancers swayed and dodged, Papita caught Sicto off his guard, and to his mortification he found himself contemplating +the comely back of the girl. Over her shoulder she taunted the astonished boy, and thunderous applause greeted his defeat. +Sicto slunk off into <a id="d0e1288"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1288">137</a>]</span>the shadow, muttering maledictions against Piang, whom he blamed primarily for his downfall. Papita, Piang, which would win? +Breathlessly the audience followed the agile movements of the two; eagerly they claimed the honors for their favorite. + +</p> +<p>The music ceased abruptly. With fear in their hearts and bated breath, the tribe waited again for the sound that had disturbed +their revelry: + +</p> +<p>“<i>Le le, li li.</i>” The tribal call rang through the forest faintly. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Blako ampoen</i>, Allah,” (“I beg for mercy, Allah,”) whispered Kali Pandapatan, supplicatingly. + +</p> +<p>The call was repeated, came steadily nearer. Finally from the gloom of the river shot a banco, a very old man working at the +paddle. It was Pandita Asin from the barrio. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Un-di?</i>” (“Whither?”) called Kali Pandapatan. + +</p> +<p>“The barrio—Bal-Bal!” gasped the exhausted old man. +<a id="d0e1311"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1311">138</a>]</span></p> +<p>The night pressed upon them. Up the river darted Asin’s slender banco with Kali Pandapatan and a few picked warriors. + +</p> +<p>“Asin, we shall need you, and you, Piang,” the chief had said, and the boy jumped into the boat. Far behind they left the +terrified, confused throng, preparing to embark, and soon the night swallowed up the little advance party, as it hurried toward +the stricken barrio. + + +</p> +<p></p> +<div id="d0e1317" class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p139.jpg" alt="Piang reached up on tiptoe to pluck a ripe mango" width="363" height="512"><p class="figureHead">Piang reached up on tiptoe to pluck a ripe mango</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>A white mist rose from the water, obscuring the view; a damp breeze chilled the travelers, and they anxiously scanned the +heavens for Bal-Bal, the terrible. Obstructions in the river were numerous and dangerous. Once they grazed the side of a floating +log; it immediately turned upon them, emitting blood-curdling bellows through gaping jaws. Piang’s spear silenced the menacing +crocodile, and the party hurried on. A <i>taloetook</i> (owl) wailed his melancholy koekh-koekh, and the mournful sound seemed to draw the handful of men closer together. Through +the jungle the river wound its serpentine way; dense growths crowded the bank and leaned far out over the stream. Trailing +vines and hanging <a id="d0e1326"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1326">141</a>]</span>ferns brushed the occupants of the canoe, and in fear they avoided contact with them, so often did their velvety green conceal +wicked thorns and poisonous spines. Fiery eyes dotted the jungle, stealthily watching for a chance to pounce upon the intruders; +rustling of the rushes warned them of invisible dangers. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Karangan!</i>” (“Sand-bar!”) cried Piang, and just in time the banco swerved, avoiding the slimy mud that might have held them prisoners, +at the mercy of prowling night terrors. + +</p> +<p>A light twinkled in the distance; confused sounds reached the rescuers, and they pushed forward with renewed energy. + +</p> +<p>“Ooooh, Mihing!” called Asin, in his cracked, wavering voice. + +</p> +<p>“Ooooh!” came the answer from the barrio. + +</p> +<p>“Piang, we look to you to protect us from Bal-Bal, to you and your sacred anting-anting.” Solemnly Kali Pandapatan made this +announcement. + +</p> +<p>The boy was the first to land. The lame and the halt crowded around him, imploring him to save them. Confused, Piang wondered +what <a id="d0e1343"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1343">142</a>]</span>was expected of him but suddenly he remembered what the great Ganassi had said: + +</p> +<p>“The source of power is faith!” + +</p> +<p>His proud little head went up; his brave eyes smiled: + +</p> +<p>“Have no fear, my people. Piang, the charm boy, will protect you.” + +</p> +<p>A startling phenomenon had terrified the barrio. Just at dusk, old Asin had been squatting in the doorway of his hut, dreamily +watching Papita’s little white fawn munching mangos under the fatal tree, when suddenly he saw it rise, struggle, suspended +in the air, then disappear. Its pathetic cry was heard once, high above their heads. Then there was silence. The aged populace +had been too frightened to investigate and had hovered around the fire, afraid to venture beyond its circle of light. Asin +had been despatched to notify the head of the tribe that Bal-Bal was hovering near. + +</p> +<p>All eyes turned toward the charm boy. + +</p> +<p>“La ilaha illa llahoe,” softly prayed Piang, scrutinizing the frowning jungle, as it closed in on all sides. +<a id="d0e1357"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1357">143</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Kali Pandapatan,” finally announced the boy, “it is given that we act as brave men. If it is Bal-Bal who has been swooping +upon us, have no fear; he can come no more with Piang, the charm boy, prepared to meet him. If it is something else that is +hovering near, we must go boldly forth and slay our enemy.” + +</p> +<p>A relieved sigh from the listeners greeted this speech. + +</p> +<p>“Bravely spoken, little brother,” said Kali Pandapatan. + +</p> +<p>Another boat load arrived from the sea, and when the nature of the calamity had been explained, all volunteered to aid in +the search. Each man bearing a torch, they went in pairs, scattering through the jungle. At given intervals, Piang who remained +in the barrio at the entreaty of the aged, was to respond to the clan call. + +</p> +<p>“Lē lē li li!” echoed through the somber night, giving courage to the faint of heart and keeping the searching party’s spirits +up. Stealthily the charm boy crept around the edge of the clearing, examining every possible opening; cautiously he peered +into nooks and crannies. +<a id="d0e1368"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1368">144</a>]</span></p> +<p>The mango-tree! What was there about that old jungle veteran that drew the boy toward it? The babe had disappeared from under +its shelter; the fawn had been whisked from its protection. A cry from the circle around the fire arrested him as he approached +the tree, but he reassured them, exposing the charm, and bravely went forward. Dew on the heavy, dark foliage glistened in +the firelight, and the golden fruit peeped forth temptingly. Piang reached up on tiptoe to pluck a ripe mango, supporting +his body against a large vine that hung from the tree. The vine stirred, trembled, and disappeared. With a low cry the boy +recoiled. The tree was bewitched, was alive. Would its huge limbs enfold him in its embrace as it had done the other two victims? +Piang was unable to move. Fascinated, he stared wide-eyed at the tree with its wealth of parasite life sapping its vitality. +Trailing orchids and tree-ferns festooned its limbs; <i>liana</i> and <i><span id="d0e1375" class="corr" title="Source: bajuka">bajuca</span></i> vines smothered it in death-like embrace. Coil upon coil of these serpent-like jungle creepers, ignoring or circumventing +the smudge platform halfway up the trunk, ascended to the tree’s very <a id="d0e1378"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1378">145</a>]</span>crest, only to return, dangling and swinging like the ragged draperies of a slattern, reaching out tenacious arms in search +of new support. + +</p> +<p>At any moment Piang expected to be seized by this supernatural monster, and yet he could not cry out or move. Where did it +hide its victims? Did it inhale life or suck it into its trunk? Scarcely realizing what he was doing, the boy focused his +gaze upon two dazzling points of light that gradually came nearer, nearer. A peacefulness came over him, and he wondered why +he had been so terrified a moment before. Slowly a numbness crept up his limbs; a giddiness attacked him. On came the hypnotic, +icy lights, until they were within a few feet of his face. + +</p> +<p>“Lē lē li li!” crashed through the stillness. With the dim past Piang connected the disturbing sounds. The gleaming lights +were beautiful, compelling. + +</p> +<p>“Lē lē li li!” A memory of some duty faintly stirred Piang’s subconsciousness, and his senses tried to respond to the call. +Bright and intense grew the twin fires. One instant they seemed as minute as fireflies, the next as large as moons. <a id="d0e1386"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1386">146</a>]</span>Yes, the tree was alive; it was moving. A giant creeper was swaying toward him, would grasp him in its toils. + +</p> +<p>“Lē lē li li!” persistently the call was repeated. “Lē lē li li!” A duty! What was it? Charm boy? Who was charm boy? Involuntarily +Piang’s hand sought the charm on his breast and grasped it. He was saved! With a shriek he darted back just in time. The vine +lunged out, quivered, and recoiled. + +</p> +<p>Asin, who had been curiously watching Piang for some time, rushed toward him and caught the fainting boy in his arms. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>Quietly Piang gave his orders; unquestioningly he was obeyed. After his mishap he had not regained consciousness for two days, +and during his illness he had prated senselessly about trees that were alive and vines that had eyes, much to the disturbance +of Kali Pandapatan and Asin. But when he whispered his suspicions to his chief, Kali gave a low whistle. + +</p> +<p>Asin and Tooloowee were taken into the secret, and they set to work to develop Piang’s plan. <a id="d0e1398"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1398">147</a>]</span>A wild boar, which had been captured for crocodile bait, was fastened to a pole in the middle of the <i>campong</i> (clearing). Around it was built a bamboo pen, opened at one end, from which extended a low, fenced-in lane about forty feet +long. Arranged in this lane, at intervals, were slip nooses of ratan, which, rising above the structure, looked like skeleton +arches. + +</p> +<p>Impatiently the Moros waited for night; fearfully they watched the mango-tree. There was no tom-tom serenade such as usually +heralds the coming of night; no fires were lighted; the evening meal was forgotten. An ominous silence pervaded the barrio. + +</p> +<p>Night came—soft, fragrant night, with its thousand wonders. The inquisitive moon peeped over the palm fronds, peeped again, +and decided to remain. Papita, her anklets and bangles clinking dully, moved listlessly about, sorrowing for her lost pet; +Sicto followed her persistently, annoying her with his attentions. The sulky mestizo took pleasure in provoking the little +girl, for was she not Piang’s favorite, and was not Piang his enemy? He moodily contemplated the <a id="d0e1407"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1407">148</a>]</span>charm boy at work on the silly-looking structure that he was not allowed to approach. + + +</p> +<p></p> +<div id="d0e1410" class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p149.jpg" alt="Gracefully the little slave-girl eluded Piang and Sicto" width="512" height="382"><p class="figureHead">Gracefully the little slave-girl eluded Piang and Sicto</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>When it was finished, Kali Pandapatan ordered every one to go to their homes, to lock and bar the doors, and, under pain of +his displeasure, to make no sound. The death-like stillness was fraught with tension. From the window in the nearest house, +Piang kept watch with Kali, Asin, and Tooloowee; in his hand he held the ratan cable that controlled the nooses in the narrow +lane. Minutes, hours trailed by, and still the barrio watched. A gentle wind awakened the forest whispers and gathered its +freight of seed and pollen to scatter abroad. The prisoner in the deserted campong protested and struggled, its ugly grunts +disturbing the jungle peace. Dull clouds obscured the moon, and for a long time the barrio was in darkness. When the light +burst suddenly upon them, the Moros started from their drowsiness and gazed with awe on the swaying, shuddering mango-tree. +Not a leaf was stirring on the surrounding trees, but the mango rustled and trembled ominously. +<a id="d0e1416"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1416">149</a>]</span></p> +<p>“See, Kali! I was right!” whispered Piang. No superstitious horror pervaded the hut where the four men watched, but in every +other house Moros fell upon their faces, beseeching Allah to protect them from Bal-Bal. The capricious moon plunged into a +shadowy cloud again. The next flood of light disclosed a vision so horrible that even Kali and his brave followers stiffened +with fear. Out of the mango-tree a black, writhing mass crept toward the terrified squealing boar. Unfolding length after +length, the thing advanced, until nearly thirty feet of sinuous, undulating life stretched between the mango tree and the +boar’s cage. Papita, sickened with fear, buried her face in her mother’s bosom, weeping hysterically; Sicto, pale and trembling, +grasped the window for support. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Ular-Sawa!</i>” (“Giant python!”) he gasped, hastily closing the window. A little captive monkey whined pitifully. + +</p> +<p>The massive creature, distracted by the sound, paused, head up, forked tongue darting in and out of the open jaws, for the +Regal Python has no ears, but hears with its tongue. That delicate <a id="d0e1426"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1426">152</a>]</span>nerve center registers sounds by vibration, and when a python is eager to listen, it extends its black, forked tongue. + +</p> +<p>“Oh, will it go into the trap?” breathed Piang. The boar, watching its fate, squealed, and the python advanced. Missing the +easy lane, it approached the cage from the side, and tried to batter it down with its powerful head. Failing in this, it attempted +to slip over the fence, but the pickets had been sharpened to prevent this, and finally it discovered the opening. + +</p> +<p>Seeming to disapprove of the symmetrical structure, it hesitated to thrust its enormous length into the strange-looking thing. +The Moros were fearful lest the creature escape and continue to overshadow their barrio. Once the python seemed about to retreat, +but at that moment the boar struggled so desperately that the python’s natural instinct prevailed, and without a moment’s +hesitation, it writhed into the lane, past the first loop, past the second, until it reached the cage. + +</p> +<p>“Now, Piang, now!” softly whispered Kali. Calculating the distance, Piang jerked the ratan <a id="d0e1434"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1434">153</a>]</span>cable, and the noose tightened around the snake’s throat. + +</p> +<p>In a moment the fence was lashed to pieces, and the pickets were flying about like so many chips, as the serpent fought and +struggled. Piang and his helpers secured the cable to a post and rushed into the campong. Catching hold of the other cables, +they pulled them tighter and tighter until the snake was unable to move. + +</p> +<p>The clouds were heavy and the moon shone fitfully. + +</p> +<p>“Torches!” yelled Kali, and the women scurried about in search of them. Piang and Tooloowee cautiously approached the monster’s +head, holding on a stick some cotton soaked with poison. Savagely the python bit at the extended stick, and the cotton caught +on the long recurved teeth. Try as it would, it could not get rid of its mouthful. The Moros congratulated themselves, thinking +the danger past, little knowing what the fatal consequences would be. Under the stimulus of the poison the python began to +expand, until the loops of ratan creaked and <a id="d0e1442"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1442">154</a>]</span>snapped. The snake did not plunge or struggle, but quietly, steadily pulled. That python broke green ratan thongs half an +inch in diameter, and soon twisted out of all its fastenings except the one about its neck. Catching hold of the mango-tree +with its tail, it pulled until its eyes bulged from the sockets, but the ratan held. Releasing its hold on the tree, it flopped +about the campong, pulling and straining at the cable. + +</p> +<p>Finally it lay perfectly still, its dull, lidless eyes rolling upward. Without any warning, its lithe tail shot outward, swept +the crowd of bystanders, and those fatal, living rings closed around Sicto, compressing the unfortunate boy with such force +that he gasped for breath. Without a thought for the helpless boy, the women dropped the torches and fled screaming through +the night, leaving the campong in darkness. + +</p> +<p>Only Piang came to the none too popular mestizo’s assistance. He hurled himself at the reptile’s head, campilan raised to +strike, but instead of falling upon the mark, his knife severed the one remaining cable and set the monster free. Perceiving +its new antagonist, and feeling its <a id="d0e1448"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1448">155</a>]</span>freedom, the snake rapidly unwound its tail from Sicto, who fell to the ground with a dull thud. Darting forward with lightening +rapidity, it caught Piang in its circular embrace, and, coiling its tail around the tree, flattened the boy against it, as +if in a mill. Tighter, closer hugged those massive, chilling rings, but Piang fought bravely. + +</p> +<p>“A light! a light!” screamed Tooloowee, as he dragged the insensible Sicto away, and, out of a nearby hut dashed a slender, +graceful figure in response to the call, a fresh torch streaming its smoke and sparks around her head. + +</p> +<p>“Quick, Papita,” urged Tooloowee, and the girl came fearlessly to the aid of Piang. + +</p> +<p>“Piang!” she wailed. “Why didn’t you let it have Sicto!” Her voice seemed to put new life into the suffocating boy. With one +supreme effort Piang managed to loosen his arm and struck once, twice. The python, now bleeding profusely, hissed and writhed, +still tightening around the boy. Once again Piang thrust, at last reaching the creature’s heart. The rings loosened, relaxed, +and Tooloowee’s well-aimed <a id="d0e1456"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1456">156</a>]</span>blow severed the awful head, which bounced and rolled to Papita’s feet. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>When they carried the limp, lacerated body of Piang to his hut, there was lamenting and weeping in the barrio. Piang, their +beloved charm boy was dead. A mournful <i>tilick</i> (death signal) was sounded on the tom-toms, and the wail soon gathered volume until the jungle and river seemed to take up +the plaint. + +</p> +<p>Dead? Could Piang, the invincible, be killed? Papita crouched in the doorway. Kali Pandapatan bent over the still little form. +Anxiously he watched the eyelids quiver, the lips part. A sigh of relief broke from the chief, and he murmured softly: + +</p> +<p>“Little brother, you have the strength of a packda; the cunning of the civet-cat, and the wisdom of the mina-bird. May your +days be long.” + +</p> +<p>A knowing smile flitted across Kali’s face as he caught the irrelevant reply: + +</p> +<p>“Papita—is she safe?” + + + +<a id="d0e1473"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1473">157</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="d0e1474" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="label">Seventh Adventure</h2> +<h2 class="normal">The Secret of the Source</h2> +<p>There had been a great drought. Plague was sure to follow such weather, and the Moros were already dying of starvation. “Rice, +rice!” was the cry, but everywhere the crop had failed, and the natives were desperate. + +</p> +<p>Piang had been more successful in foraging than the other lads had, and his mother was safe for a time, but there seemed to +be no hope, and he sorrowed as he pictured her dying for want of the food that it was his business to provide for her. + +</p> +<p>In the stifling heat of midday, the village was startled by the appearance of several white men on the biggest animals they +had ever seen. Tiny ponies, straying about the village, fled to cover at sight of the strange creatures, and most of the women +hid themselves in fright. The Moro <a id="d0e1485"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1485">158</a>]</span>men sullenly watched the strangers advance, making no attempt to stop them, but there was no mistaking their hostile attitude. + +</p> +<p>“Where is the dato?” asked the interpreter, who rode in ahead of the men. There was no answer. + +</p> +<p>“Come, where is the chief? The white men bring good news; they bring food.” + +</p> +<p>Instantly there was a change. Kali Pandapatan stepped in front of the others and said in his musical patois: + +</p> +<p>“I am Dato Kali Pandapatan. Speak. Do not deceive us.” + +</p> +<p>A lengthy conversation followed, and while the two men were arguing and gesticulating, the strangers gradually coaxed some +of the children toward them. Finally the women sidled nearer, and soon the entire population had hedged the little company +in, and were gazing with awe at the huge American horses with their odd trappings. One mare stamped her foot and neighed loudly, +scattering the spectators in every direction, greatly to the amusement of the white men. + +</p> +<p>It was all very hard for the dato to understand. <a id="d0e1499"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1499">159</a>]</span>He explained to his people that some great power had sent the white men to save them from starvation. The interpreter had +told him that the Moros all belonged now to some nation called the United States. A fierce murmur rippled through the crowd +at this piece of news. The dato raised his hand for quiet. + +</p> +<p>“Let us hear them through. We are hungry; let them feed us. We will fight for our freedom later, if necessary.” + +</p> +<p>Haughtily Dato Kali Pandapatan faced the newcomers and bade them speak. The interpreter explained that the men were United +States soldiers, and that their chief had commanded them to search the islands for starving Moros and to relieve their suffering. +The crafty dato pondered long before he accepted their offer, all the while watching for an attack. It was impossible for +him to believe their generosity could be genuine, so used was he to the treachery of Spanish strangers. When the pack-train +loaded with supplies appeared at the head of the steep mountain pass, a cry went up from the hungry people, and a rush was +made toward it. <a id="d0e1505"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1505">160</a>]</span>When the supplies had been portioned out to each family, and suspicion banished from the minds of the natives, the “Americanos” +were hailed as their saviors. Lieutenant Lewis, in charge of the expedition, was offered every courtesy, and the soldiers +were showered with gifts of brass and trinkets. Dato Kali Pandapatan vowed his allegiance to the soldiers and offered the +services of his tribe. + +</p> +<p>“Ask the dato if he has heard of the mysterious rice that has been found on Lake Lanao, Ricardo,” said Lieutenant Lewis. + +</p> +<p>The interpreter addressed the dato and learned that it was a well known fact that rice had appeared on the surface of the +lake from no apparent source. As it had never been grown in that district, the authorities were puzzled over the persistent +rumors. If it could be cultivated there, it might be possible to supply the tribes with enough to avoid these frequent famines. + +</p> +<p>“He says he is not sure, sir, but travelers from that section all bring the same tales of gathering rice in an eddy at one +corner of the lake. The tribes are very fierce around there, and as they <a id="d0e1513"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1513">161</a>]</span>will not tolerate interference from strangers, no one has dared to investigate.” + +</p> +<p>“I can easily believe it. General Bushing’s expedition through that country met with fearful opposition. It’s a wonder to +me that so many of them came out alive.” The lieutenant was silent for a time, then said: + +</p> +<p>“Ask him if he has a swift runner, some one that he can trust.” + +</p> +<p>Ricardo questioned the chief. + +</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, he says there is a boy named Piang, who is fleeter than the wind, surer than the sun.” + +</p> +<p>“Ask him if he will send this boy for me to the lake to search out the truth about this rice. Offer him fifty bushels of corn +for the lad’s family and tell him I will send him twenty-five bushels whether he is successful or not.” + +</p> +<p>“Piang! Piang!” the name was on every one’s lips. From out the crowd stepped a slender faun of a youth, slim and supple as +a reed. The gaily-colored breech-cloth wound about his loins supported his bolo and small knives, and in his tightly knotted +long hair, glistened a creese. With silent dignity he awaited his orders. No <a id="d0e1527"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1527">162</a>]</span>curiosity manifested itself in his face; no question was on his lips; he simply waited. Lieutenant Lewis marveled at the boy’s +indifference, but when the mission was explained to Piang, the light that sparkled in his eyes and the expressions of excitement +and joy that chased each other across his face removed all doubt from the lieutenant’s mind. + +</p> +<p>Piang was chosen! Piang was to ferret out the secret of the lake! Piang was to bring honor to his tribe! When it was explained +to him that his mother would be provided for, he abruptly turned from the dato and dashed off to his hut to procure weapons +and scanty provisions. A silence held the natives as they waited for Piang to reappear. They all seemed to sense the dangers +that were confronting the boy so eager to undertake the task. Hardly ten minutes had elapsed before he was in their midst +again. He salaamed before the dato and, without a glance at the others, bounded up the trail, away into the jungle. + +</p> +<p>“But,” protested the lieutenant, “no one has given him any orders, any directions.” The interpreter <a id="d0e1533"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1533">163</a>]</span>conveyed the American’s misgivings to the dato. A smile broke over his face. + +</p> +<p>“Piang needs no directions, no advice. No jungle is too thick for him to penetrate, no water deep enough to hide its secrets +from him. Piang will bring you news of the rice. I have spoken.” + +</p> +<p>“And to think of the fuss it takes to get a few dough-boys ready for a hike!” exclaimed the amazed lieutenant. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>The jungle was terrible. Everywhere Piang came across victims of the drought. Little monkeys, huddled together, cried like +babies; big birds, perched on the sun-scorched trees, were motionless. He stumbled over something soft. Always on the alert, +his bolo was ready in an instant, but there was no need for it. He looked down into the dying eyes of a little musk-deer. +Pity and misgiving filled his heart, and he wondered if he would be able to reach the Big Pass before he starved. Surely, +up there it would be different; they always had rain, and if he could only hold out.... A snuff-like dust constantly <a id="d0e1543"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1543">164</a>]</span>rose from the decayed vegetation; it pained his nostrils, and he muffled his face in his head-cloth as he penetrated deeper +into the jungle. He must reach a clearing before night; it would mean almost certain death to sleep in the jungle’s poisonous +atmosphere. There was a good spot further up, and he worked his way toward it, determined to reach it for his first night. +The liana-vine that he cut for water was dry. He listened for the trickle of a brook. The jungle is usually full of little +streams, but no sound rewarded his vigilance. Stumbling along, he began to think his journey would end there, when he was +startled by loud chattering. A monkey settlement was evidently near, and he knew by their liveliness that they were not famishing +for water. Spurred on by hope, he redoubled his efforts and was rewarded by the sight of a cocoanut grove in a clearing. + +</p> +<p>There was a general protest from the inhabitants as he made his appearance, but he paid no attention to the monkey insults +hurled at him and gratefully picked up the cocoanuts with which they bombarded him. Shaking each one, he <a id="d0e1547"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1547">165</a>]</span>tossed it from him. They were all dry. The monkeys were too clever to waste any nuts that had milk in them. Piang tied his +feet together loosely with his head-cloth, and, using it as a brace, hopped up one of the trees as easily as a monkey. Sitting +in the branches, he drained one cocoanut after another, and when his thirst was slaked, he amused himself by returning the +bombardment. He was surrounded by monkey snipers and he laughingly rubbed his head where one of their shots had struck home. +With careful aim he showered the trees, and gradually the monkeys began to disperse. He had won; the fun was over. He watched +them scold and fuss as they retreated into the jungle, regretting that he had not kept them with him a little longer for company. + +</p> +<p>The big sun was dipping into the trees now, and he descended to gather material for his bed. High up in the cocoanut-tree +Piang built his couch. He selected two trees that were close together, and, cutting strips of ratan, bound stalks of bamboo +together making a platform which he lashed to the trees, far out of reach of <a id="d0e1551"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1551">166</a>]</span>night prowlers. He dipped into his scanty provisions, and then, scrambling to his nest, covered himself with palm branches, +which afford warmth as well as protection from the unhealthy dew. Quickly Piang sank into an untroubled slumber. All night +long creatures fought below him for the few remaining drops of moisture in the discarded shells, but he knew that he was safe, +and their snarls and bickerings did not alarm him. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>Piang started guiltily. He must have overslept. The sun was high, but for some reason the heat had not awakened him. Sitting +up, he rubbed his eyes, sniffed the air, and uttered a shout of joy. A gentle rain was trickling through the foliage; the +spell was broken; the jungle would live again. After hastily gathering a few nuts he climbed down the tree and prepared for +his journey, thankful that the drought was to be broken by the gentle “liquid sunshine,” as it is called, instead of by a +violent typhoon. Eating what he wanted of the soft, green cocoanut meat, he tied two nuts to the ends of a ratan <a id="d0e1557"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1557">167</a>]</span>strip, and, slinging them across his shoulder, was off again, darting here and there to avoid the stinging vines and treacherous +pitfalls. + + +</p> +<p></p> +<div id="d0e1560" class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p167.jpg" alt="Over and over they rolled, splashing and fighting" width="512" height="281"><p class="figureHead">Over and over they rolled, splashing and fighting</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>How many days was he from Lake Lanao? He counted the suns that must rise and set before he should arrive. There were four, +if he should be fortunate enough to find the Ganassi trail. Piang had not lost time by returning to the coast to pick up the +trail, but had trusted to his instinct to lead him aright. Surely, if he followed the sun by day, and the big bright evening +star by night, he would come upon the trail the second day. He must avoid the lake people at all costs; they were not to be +trusted, and his life would pay the penalty if they caught him spying. Silently the jungle child sped along. Nothing escaped +his watchful eye; no sound eluded his trained ear. Once he darted aside just in time to escape the toils of the dread python +as it swooped from above to claim its victim. Another time his bolo saved him, and a wild civet-cat lay at his feet. Chuckling +at his prowess, Piang drew his knife across the animal’s belly, and slipped off the skin, almost whole. <a id="d0e1566"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1566">170</a>]</span>It would be useful to him, and maybe he could find the herb that is used to cure pelts. + +</p> +<p>It was very difficult traveling. The sun was not visible during the afternoon, and Piang lost his direction. Blundering here +and there, he often came back to the same place. It was no use; he could not find the trail without the assistance of sun +or stars. Sometimes it was days before either could penetrate the dense mist that accompanies the tropical rains. Discouraged, +he threw himself on the ground. + +</p> +<p>An unusual sound made him jerk his head up to listen. It came again, and the boy rose quietly to his feet, focusing his senses +on the sound. Cautiously he advanced toward it. In the jungle it is always wiser to be the one to attack. The sound was repeated, +and Piang breathed easier. It was made by an animal, not by his dread lake enemies. Gradually he crept nearer and when he +parted the bushes and peeped through, he almost shouted in his excitement. He had reached the Big Pass. A broad river swept +rapidly by, and along the banks wild carabao rolled and splashed, making queer diminutive <a id="d0e1572"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1572">171</a>]</span>sounds, not in keeping with their ungainly size. Piang was careful to keep out of sight, as they are apt to be dangerous when +their very uncertain nerves are startled. + +</p> +<p>For more than two days Piang fought his way through the entanglement of cogon grass and vicious vines, cutting and hewing +his way, afraid to cross the river and follow the Ganassi trail. Finally, one rosy dawn, he came upon the lake as it sparkled +and shimmered in the early light. The boy held his breath, delighted with the beauty of the view. Far in the distance mountains +rose in a blue and purple haze. The lake was nestled in the heart of them, fed by many clear brooks and springs. Its bed had +once been the crater of an active volcano, but Piang did not know this. + +</p> +<p>From his retreat, built high among the dense trees, Piang watched the lake people ply their way to and fro across the water. +Somewhere on that lake was the secret of the floating rice, and the boy was determined to discover the truth. He hid before +dawn at the water’s edge near a spot that he had noticed was much frequented. As usual, a swarm of natives visited <a id="d0e1578"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1578">172</a>]</span>it about noon. Piang watched them dip up gourds and cocoanut-shell cups full of water. They strained it through cloths, repeating +and repeating the action. He was sure it was the coveted rice that they were gathering and he impatiently waited for them +to go; no sooner had they departed, however, than others arrived to take up the task. There was nothing to do, but wait again +for dawn, and Piang wriggled himself back to his grove and mounted his platform home. + +</p> +<p>He was very restless all night and hardly slept at all, so anxious was he for the first streaks of light. As he lay with eyes +upturned, he watched the stars grow dim: before they had entirely disappeared, Piang was standing by the water ready for the +dive. His bolo was slung at his side, and in his mouth he carried a smaller knife. One never knows what one may meet at the +bottom of an unknown lake, and Piang was prepared for any emergency. + +</p> +<p>At last it was light, at last he could see into the clear lake. Climbing out on the rocks as far as he could, he let himself +down into the cool <a id="d0e1584"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1584">173</a>]</span>water. How he rejoiced at the feel of it and how easily he slipped along toward the spot where he had watched the natives +the day before! + +</p> +<p>He looked for signs of rice. Seaweed tricked him; bubbles vanished and he reached to grasp them. Round and round he swam, +and finally his hands closed over something small and slippery. Breathlessly he fingered it, and opening his hand as he trod +water, he beheld the mushy rice grains. + +</p> +<p>Taking a long survey, he assured himself that there was no one in sight. Yesterday the Moros had not come before noon; and +if he worked quickly, he might discover the secret to-day. Taking a long breath, Piang dived straight down and, swimming along +the bottom, examined the rocks carefully; but he came back to the surface none the wiser for his plunge. A puzzled look puckered +his face. Tilting his head to one side, he considered. That was surely rice; it did not grow here, so it must come from under +the water. Again he dived, but this time he swam nearer the surface and he saw that there was more rice floating by than he +had imagined. It was not <a id="d0e1590"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1590">174</a>]</span>coming from the bottom, it was drifting from the center of the lake! + +</p> +<p>Excitedly he headed in that direction, swimming under water whenever he lost the trail of the rice. It was not strange that +it only came to the top in that one spot. There was a strong current that bore it upward, whirling it in an eddy before it +sank to the bottom. Farther, farther he went, always swimming toward the center of the lake; and as he went, the rice grew +thicker. Eagerly he plunged forward, keeping his eyes open, watching the rice. + +</p> +<p>He stopped. What was that dark object resting on the bottom? He did not know how exhausted he was until he paused for breath; +then, knowing that his next dive would take him far down, he rolled over on his back and floated quietly. Burning with curiosity, +he could hardly wait to see what was there. Slowly he swam downward. Something warned him to be more careful, and afterward +he was grateful for his caution, for had he plunged recklessly to the bottom, in all probability in would have been his last +dive. +<a id="d0e1596"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1596">175</a>]</span></p> +<p>He was aware of a large body moving near him and he dodged just in time to avoid a collision, striking out for the surface. +Lying flat on the water, he peered into the depth and discovered several dark things swimming about. Frightened at first, +he remembered that sharks and crocodiles do not live in mountain lakes. Bravely he descended, but this time he swam with his +bolo in his hand. Down, down, and again he saw the queer, square things flopping about. They were huge tortoises, clustered +around a darker object at the very bottom of the lake. Once more Piang came to the top. He was not afraid now; tortoises do +not fight unless attacked, and the boy could easily outswim any of the clumsy creatures. But what were they doing out there +in the middle of the lake? Tortoises live near shoals and feed on fungi and roots. As he plunged down once more, he was met +by a strong up-current and had to fight his way through. Tiny particles stung him as they rushed by, and it seemed to him +that millions of fish were darting here and there, snapping at something. It was rice. Gradually it dawned <a id="d0e1599"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1599">176</a>]</span>on Piang that he had reached his goal; the tortoise had reached it first, and the secret lay hidden in that dark thing at +the bottom. + +</p> +<p>Frantically, but steadily, he worked his way down, avoiding weeds and driftwood. The water grew calmer as he neared the bottom, +the rush of the current less. His breath was almost gone; he could hardly stand it a few seconds longer, but he must see what +it was there. With one supreme effort, he struggled and reached the hard sand of the lake floor. A trifle dazed, he looked +about, and there, towering above him, was a ship. + +</p> +<p>Piang was almost unconscious when he reached the air. Had he been dreaming? How could a ship be resting on the bottom of Lake +Lanao? Restraining his curiosity, he forced himself to rest. Lying on his back again, he took long regular breaths until he +was entirely rested. Slowly he descended and, avoiding contact with the loggy tortoise, circled around the dark thing. Yes, +it was a boat. Piang had seen only one other boat like it in his life. It was only about thirty-five feet long, but to the +boy it seemed <a id="d0e1605"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1605">177</a>]</span>to rise above him like a mountain. Fascinated, he sank lower until he was standing on the deck. The tortoises and fish paid +no attention to him, and he examined it carefully. The big tube, sticking up in its middle Piang recognized as the thing that +belches smoke, and along the sides, covered with slime and weeds, were small black objects. He had heard that these boats +hurl “hot-spit” into the jungle when they are angry, and he supposed it must come from these ugly things. All this occupied +only a few seconds, but to Piang it seemed like years. Making a hasty ascent, he again filled his lungs and prepared to explore +farther. As he worked his way back, he crossed the current that was bearing the rice to the surface and remembered his mission. +Following the milky trail, he arrived at the stern of the boat and shuddered to see the mass of animal life clustered there. +Worming his way alongside, he frightened the swarming creatures, and they scattered, leaving him a clear view of the boat. +Only one old tortoise refused to be disturbed, and Piang watched it pull and bite at something. He was very close to it, when +<a id="d0e1607"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1607">178</a>]</span>suddenly something blinded him. He put out his hands to ward it off, but the rush increased, and when he found his way to +the top his hands were full of soggy rice. The old tortoise had torn the end of a rice-sack, and the contents were being whirled +upward. + +</p> +<p>As the boy lay on the water, reviewing his remarkable discovery, his strength almost exhausted, he was startled into the realization +of a new danger. Quickly he dived, but not before a man in a vinta, headed that way, had seen him. Piang was caught. In his +excitement he had failed to watch for the coming of his enemies, and now he must fight. Swiftly the vinta approached. Piang +could see it through the water and he watched until it was over his head. With a lunge, he struck at it with all his might, +upsetting it and throwing the occupant out. With a yell the man grabbed Piang, and the startled boy recognized his old enemy, +Sicto, the outcast, who drifted from tribe to tribe, a parasite on all who would tolerate him. He was making his home with +the lake people just now and had discovered Piang’s hiding-place. Guessing that <a id="d0e1611"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1611">179</a>]</span>the boy was after the secret of the rice, he had watched his chance and had pounced on him when he was least able to protect +himself. + +</p> +<p>Over and over they rolled, splashing and fighting. Piang was struggling for breath, but luckily he still had his bolo in his +hand. The big bully was sure to win the fight unless Piang could escape soon, as he was already winded and exhausted. A happy +thought flashed through Piang’s mind. He watched for one of the tortoises to swim near the surface, and then shrieking “Crocodile,” +he pointed toward it. When the frightened Sicto shrank from the tortoise, Piang struck with all his might, but he was so weak +and his knife was so heavy that he only stunned his adversary. + +</p> +<p>Then he was away like a flash. Before the bully could recover, Piang had righted the vinta and was paddling off in the direction +of the river. Sicto tried to follow him, but Piang only laughed and paddled faster. He was free again; he had a boat, and +knew the secret of the rice. Allah was indeed good to little Piang. + +</p> +<p>Rapidly he plied his paddle. The current <a id="d0e1619"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1619">180</a>]</span>was against him as he headed for the mouth of the river, but he worked steadily and soon lost sight of the infuriated Sicto. + +</p> +<p>He paused. Coming out of the river was a flotilla of boats. They were the usual rice-fishers, and he must pass them to gain +the outlet. What if they called to him? He could not speak their dialect, and they would surely recognize Sicto’s boat. He +did not think they had seen him, so he changed his course to the east-ward and slowly paddled in that direction. They soon +passed behind him, paying no attention to the solitary boatman, and he thankfully headed toward the river. As soon as the +men reached Sicto, he would tell them of the fight, and they would give chase. Piang’s chances of escape were indeed slim, +but he had a little start. + +</p> +<p>Stubbornly he fought the current; patiently he worked against the swift water. At last he was in the river, but he knew that +by this time the Moros were in pursuit. That they did not appear in the river behind him was no reason to feel safe. He was +sure they would try to head him off by land, as the river wound round <a id="d0e1625"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1625">181</a>]</span>and round through the valleys. The odds were certainly against Piang. He was in a strange country, unfamiliar with the trails +and hunted by the swiftest tribe of Moros. The Ganassi trail was out of the question. It would be lined with the lake people +watching for him. The jungle, which he had worked his way through, would be searched, and his recent camping site discovered. +Every passable trail to his home would be watched. + +</p> +<p>Suddenly Piang remembered the “Americano” soldiers. They lived somewhere off in the other direction, beyond the terrible marshlands. +Without a moment’s hesitation, he headed toward the shore, pulled up the vinta, and secured it. He then plunged into the stream +and swam to the opposite shore. When the lake people found the vinta, they would search that side of the jungle. Piang was +pleased at his ruse. + +</p> +<p>Bravely the boy faced his only avenue of escape. The journey through the marshlands and over the mountains was considered +impossible, but Piang was not discouraged. Searching the surrounding jungle, he made sure that he had <a id="d0e1631"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1631">182</a>]</span>not been discovered, and, turning his back on his home as well as on his enemies, headed toward the distant peaks, the Dos +Hermanas. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>“Halt!” The sentry on Post No. 4 wheeled and took aim. There was another rustle in the bushes. “Halt!” came the second warning. +Luckily the man was an old soldier, whose nerves were well seasoned. There would be only one more warning; the bullet would +come then. Tensely the sentry listened. In the jungle one does not wait long out of curiosity. Just as he was about to utter +his ultimatum and emphasize it with lead, a slender form tottered through the bushes and fell to the ground. + +</p> +<p>“Sure, an’ he ’s a-playin’ dead. None of that game for yer Uncle Dudley.” The Irishman, coming to port arms, sang out: + +</p> +<p>“Corporal of the guard. Number Four!” Never taking his eyes off the still form, he waited. + +</p> +<p>“What’s up?” called the corporal, as he came running up the trail with his squad. + +</p> +<p>“Suspicious greaser!” The sentry pointed <a id="d0e1645"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1645">183</a>]</span>at the prostrate form. Cautiously they approached it. Too many times their humane sympathy had been rewarded by treachery. +The native did not stir. One of the guard poked him with his foot. There was no resistance. + +</p> +<p>“Guess he’s all in, all right,” announced the corporal. “Heave him up. Never mind the leeches; they won’t hurt you.” The boy +was lifted to the top of a woodpile. He bore the marks of the jungle. His hands and feet were scratched and torn by thorns, +some of which still showed in the flesh. His ribs showed plainly through the tightly pulled skin, and leeches clung to him, +sucking the blood from his tired body. The long hair had been jerked from its customary chignon, and was hanging loose around +his head. His thin arms hung listlessly at his side. + +</p> +<p>“Gosh, he needs a wash bad enough. Must have been starving, too.” With his bayonet the corporal removed the black hair from +the face. Uttering an exclamation, he bent over the boy. + +</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll be dinged! This is the kid Lieutenant Lewis sent up to the lake! How in tarnation did he get to us from this direction?” +<a id="d0e1653"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1653">184</a>]</span>The men silently exchanged glances, all remembering their fruitless attempts to make a trail over the Dos Hermanas. Forcing +water between the parched lips, the corporal gently shook Piang. The boy opened his eyes and shuddered. + +</p> +<p>“You’re all right now, little ’un,” the corporal said, and although Piang did not understand the language, he responded to +the kind tone with a weak smile. Slowly getting to his elbow, he motioned toward the garrison: + +</p> +<p>“<i>Hombre!</i>” (“Man!”) he muttered. It was the only Spanish word he knew, and the soldiers guessed that he wanted Lieutenant Lewis. + +</p> +<p>“Give him a lift, boys,” said the corporal and set the example by helping Piang to stand. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>“Why, the boy’s story is incredible, Lewis. It is simply impossible that a gunboat could be at the bottom of Lake Lanao,” +General Beech protested as he walked to and fro in front of his desk in the administration building. + +</p> +<p>“If you will search the records at headquarters, sir, I think you will find mention of three gunboats that were shipped to +this island by the <a id="d0e1670"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1670">185</a>]</span>Spanish government and disappeared mysteriously on the eve of our occupancy.” + +</p> +<p>And so it turned out. Inquiries among the older natives of the barrio brought confirmation of the report, and weird tales +of transporting the diminutive gunboats in sections over the mountain passes began to float about. Finally General Beech was +convinced and gave the necessary orders to equip and send an investigating party to the lake. Piang was to be the guide. + +</p> +<p>The transport <i>Seward</i> carried the troops around to Iligan, and the struggle up the mountain trail to Lake Lanao began. + +</p> +<p>Sicto was the first to give warning of the approach. He came upon the party one morning as they were breaking camp near the +Marie Christina falls and immediately dashed off to Marahui. + +</p> +<p>“The white devils are coming,” he shrieked. “Piang, the traitor, is leading them to us!” + +</p> +<p>Dato Grande assembled his council, and they awaited the coming of the soldiers with misgivings. They had good reason to fear +the Americans. General Bushing had swept that district <a id="d0e1685"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1685">186</a>]</span>in his marvelous campaign, and there was many a cripple among the lake people to testify to the accuracy of his marksmen. +But they were relieved by the appearance of Ricardo, the interpreter, who explained to the dato that the troops were not hostile, +but had come to make friends with the Moros. + +</p> +<p>Proudly Piang swung along at the head of the column, guiding them to his recent platform home. Camp was pitched on the shore, +and the engineers commenced work at once. The boy impatiently waited for the divers to fix their cumbersome suits, and when +all was ready, he plunged into the water and disappeared from view. The grotesque figures floating down with him made Piang +want to laugh. They looked like huge devil-fish, and he wondered how they could stand the clumsy dress. After he had led the +men to the boat he came to the top and swam with eyes down. If there were more boats, he wanted to find them first. The men +on the bank were watching his agile movements with interest. With a shout he disappeared again. Yes, yes, there was a second +boat. And as he circled <a id="d0e1689"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1689">187</a>]</span>the sunken craft he spied another near it. Striking out for the shore, he swam to where the general and the lieutenant were +waiting. + +</p> +<p>“What is he chattering about, Ricardo?” asked the general. + +</p> +<p>“He says he has seen the other two boats, sir.” + +</p> +<p>“This is certainly a fortunate discovery, Lewis. I shall make a report to Washington on the matter, and you shall be commended +for your sagacity.” + +</p> +<p>The young officer flushed with pleasure, but replied: + +</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir, but I think the boy Piang deserves all the credit.” + +</p> +<p>It was many days before the task was completed. The rice had remained a mystery to the last, and the officers puzzled over +the fact that it had not rotted entirely. The first report from the divers confirmed the rumor that the boats had been scuttled, +presumably to prevent the Americans from capturing them. They had all been loaded with rice packed in sacks, and secured in +tin-lined boxes. Until recently it had <a id="d0e1703"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1703">188</a>]</span>been protected from the water, but something heavy from above had fallen on them, crushing the outside coverings. The tortoise +had done the rest. + +</p> +<p>Another surprise awaited the troops. A diver brought up a handful of Krag cartridges. + +</p> +<p>“This <i>is</i> a mystery,” said Lieutenant Lewis. “The Spanish never used Krags; we were the first to bring them to this part of the world, +weren’t we?” + +</p> +<p>A shadow crossed General Beech’s face. Quietly he ordered the divers to search for more ammunition. Silently they waited, +and Lewis wondered what had brought the sad expression to his chief’s face. When the divers brought up a wooden box half filled +with cartridges, the two officers bent over it; on one side, branded in the wood, was plainly visible: + +</p> +<p>“Depot Quartermaster, San Francisco, Cal.” + +</p> +<p>“I thought so,” murmured the general. + +</p> +<p>“Well, what do you know about that!” exclaimed Lewis. “The public has been wondering for years what became of the thousands +of rounds of ammunition General Bushing took with him <a id="d0e1720"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1720">189</a>]</span>on his spectacular march through Mindanao. Murder will out. It is here!” He rubbed his hands together in glee, laughing softly. + +</p> +<p>“How do you suppose this ammunition got here, Lewis?” General Beech asked gravely. + +</p> +<p>“Why, dumped here, of course. Don’t you remember the Sunday editions at home proclaiming Bushing a hero because he had used +more ammunition and apparently done more fighting, than any one on record? Why didn’t he come out with the truth?” + +</p> +<p>General Beech colored at this injustice to his colleague. + +</p> +<p>“The usual hasty conclusion characteristic of Young America!” said the General, sharply. “Do you know, young man, that General +Bushing is not only one of our ablest soldiers, but one of the most finished diplomats in the service?” Lewis had never seen +General Beech so agitated. + +</p> +<p>“This discovery will be no news to the war department; they are in possession of the detailed account of the accident.” He +paused, his eyes sweeping the lake. “Lewis, this lake is the site of a most unfortunate accident. Out there,” <a id="d0e1732"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1732">190</a>]</span>General Beech pointed toward the center of the lake, “dozens of our soldiers were lost, and the public will never know the +tragic story of their fall. General Bushing was trying to transport six rafts of ammunition across the lake to the troops +stranded at Camp Vicars. During a wild night storm, the handful of men set out on improvised rafts, but half-way across they +were attacked from all sides and nearly annihilated. Only the wisdom and bravery of General Bushing saved the entire detachment +from death; he ordered the ammunition thrown overboard and rescued his remaining men after a hard fight. That the survivors, +one and all, have kept faith, and never divulged the story of the lost Krags, proves the remarkable influence General Bushing +had over his command, for had the Moros got wind of this handy arsenal—!” +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>The day finally came when the tiny flotilla was at last raised, and, gay in its paint and polished metal, gallantly rode at +anchor. All the lake tribes were assembled to witness the celebration, and they gazed with wonder at the strange craft. <a id="d0e1738"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1738">191</a>]</span>Many Americans had been attracted to the lake by news of the discovery, and the camp had grown to almost twice its original +size. Some of the officers’ wives had endured the hardships of the journey to witness the novel sight. + +</p> +<p>The boats were pronounced seaworthy and were to be tested. The largest boat, the flagship, was decorated from one end to the +other with its faded pennants, but in the stern, proudly proclaiming its present nationality, flew the Stars and Stripes. +Under the flag at the bow stood a sturdy, nonchalant figure, arms folded, head erect. Condescendingly Piang swept the crowd +of wondering natives with his haughty eye. He paid no more attention to Sicto than to the others. In his supreme self-confidence +Piang scorned to report Sicto to the authorities. He was clothed in a new dignity that put him far above considering such +an unworthy opponent as Sicto and he silently cherished the hope that other opportunities to outwit the mestizo would be granted +him. + +</p> +<p>An order was given. A shrill whistle startled the jungle folk. The engines throbbed, and one <a id="d0e1744"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1744">192</a>]</span>after another the boats responded. A cheer went up from the banks. + +</p> +<p>Piang had been given the honor of renaming the boats. The smallest one bore the name of his mother, Minka. The next was dedicated +to the memory of his tribe’s greatest hero, Dato Ali, and characteristically, on the bow of the flagship, beneath the boy’s +feet, glittered the bright gold letters, “P-I-A-N-G.” + + +<a id="d0e1748"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1748">193</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="d0e1749" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="label">Eighth Adventure</h2> +<h2 class="normal">The Juramentado Gunboat</h2> +<p>The transport <i>Seward</i> was approaching Jolo. Far in the distance the sunset tinged the coast with myriads of delicate tints, softening the harsh +outline of the jungle. A flock of wild pigeons hovering over the town, suggested domestic peace, which was far from the actual +state of affairs in that hotbed of intrigue. Glasses were trained on the isolated garrison, a mere speck of civilization, +hurled at the foot of the jungle, and the excited tourists covered themselves with glory by their foolish questions. + +</p> +<p>Queer, dark-skinned people in dirty, many-colored garments, looking like a rainbow fallen in disgrace, greeted the newcomers +in sullen silence, their disapproval very evident. A quarantine officer boarded and asked for the young lieutenant who was +to join the Siasi garrison. +<a id="d0e1761"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1761">194</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Hello, Lewis! There is some uprising in Basilan. Jekiri again, I guess. They want you up at headquarters immediately.” +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>The chug-chug of the engine was the only sound as the trim little gunboat <i>Sabah</i> slipped along. Lewis had been given command of a squad of cavalry and ordered to proceed to Basilan to put down any outbreak +that might threaten. “Juramentado,” was whispered, and his orders were not to allow the troops to become involved but to quell +any trouble that was brewing. + +</p> +<p>“A pretty big order for a shave-tail (greenhorn) Lewis,” General Beech had said at parting, “but I bet you and that dark shadow +of yours will make good.” The hearty handclasp and kind smile warmed the young officer’s heart. General Beech was unusually +young for his post as division commander, and he had endeared himself to his followers by his kindly manner and dignified +directness, and Lewis would have faced death for him. + +</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir,” was all that he said, and “the <a id="d0e1775"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1775">195</a>]</span>dark shadow” salaamed according to his custom. + +</p> +<p>That night as the Americans swung along under the dome of brilliant stars, a question arose as to the meaning of juramentado. + +</p> +<p>“Piang,” Lieutenant Lewis said, “tell us about this custom of your people, won’t you?” + +</p> +<p>Bashfully the boy hung his head and wriggled his toes. He was ashamed of his fierce people since the good American had taken +him into his home, but they prevailed upon him to explain, and among them they gathered the following story from his funny, +broken English: + +</p> +<p>When a Moro wearies of life and wishes to take a short cut to paradise, he bathes in a holy spring, shaves his eyebrows, clothes +himself in white and is blessed by the pandita. The oath he takes is called <i>juramentar</i> (die killing Christians), and he arms himself with his wicked knife and starts forth. Selecting a gathering, well sprinkled +with Christians, he begins his deadly work, and as long as he breathes, he hews right and left. Piang told them that he had +seen one strong Moro juramentado pierced by a <a id="d0e1788"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1788">196</a>]</span>bayonet, drive the steel further into himself, in order to reach the soldier at the other end of the gun, whom he cut in two +before he died. + +</p> +<p>The horror on the faces of his listeners made Piang pause, but they urged him on. + +</p> +<p>“Since we are headed toward Jekiri’s sanctum, I guess it behooves us to get all the dope goin’ about these fellows,” interjected +a recruit. + +</p> +<p>Piang’s big, black eyes filled with mystery when he described how the juramentado rides to the abode of the blessed on a shadowy, +white horse, taller than a carabao, just as dusk is falling. Indeed, he assured them that he had seen this very phenomenon +himself and shivered at the recollection of the unnatural chill and damp that crept through the jungle while the spirit was +passing. + +</p> +<p>“Bosh, Piang, you mustn’t believe those fairy tales now. You are a good American.” + +</p> +<p>“Sure, me good American, now,” grinned the boy. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>There is nothing to differentiate the island of Basilan from the many others in the Sulu group. <a id="d0e1804"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1804">197</a>]</span>The natives seemed far from hostile, however, and Lieutenant Lewis remarked upon their docility to Sergeant Greer. + +</p> +<p>“Don’t let ’em fool you, sir; they’re not to be trusted,” he replied. + +</p> +<p>“Oh, Sergeant, I think we are all too scared of the dirty beggars. If we ever stop dodging them, they will stop lying in wait +for us.” + +</p> +<p>The old man’s face did not reveal his misgivings, but he wondered where this young upstart would lead the men and inwardly +cursed the war department for sending troops into the jungle under the command of a baby. He was soon to change his opinion +of this particular “baby.” + +</p> +<p>Camp was pitched near the water’s edge in a tall cocoanut grove that supplied them with food and water as well as shade. The +chores over, liberty was granted to explore the island. The sergeant shook his head; he seemed to feel the inexperience of +the new officer and overstepped the bounds of discipline when he warned him again of the treachery of the natives, advising +him to keep the men in camp. + +</p> +<p>“That will do, Sergeant,” replied the lieutenant. <a id="d0e1816"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1816">198</a>]</span>The old man stiffened into a salute, wheeled, and disappeared down the company street. + +</p> +<p>At sunset retreat was sounded, and after all the men had been accounted for, they gathered around the fires. Picturesque natives +mingled with the jolly soldiers, bartering and arguing over trifling purchases. Through the warm fragrance, unfamiliar sounds +kept reminding Lewis that he was far from home. The twilight deepened into night, and pipe in hand, he reviewed the strange +scene. Folks at home were celebrating Christmas Eve. Somewhere the snow was falling, bells jingling, and a mother’s prayers +were being whispered for the far-away boy in the Sulu jungle. Little Piang was squatting at his feet, silently watching the +scene, happy because he was near his master. Suddenly the boy jumped up, dashed into the crowd, and yelled: + +</p> +<p>“Juramentado!” + +</p> +<p>A tall Moro, without any warning, had begun to shriek and whirl, cutting to and fro with his terrible campilan, and before +any one could prevent, <a id="d0e1824"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1824">199</a>]</span>he had felled two troopers. With a howl, Lewis plunged into their midst, pistol leveled, but before he could pull the trigger, +the Moro buried the sword in his own vitals and pitched forward, dead. + +</p> +<p>“See, another!” cried Piang. + +</p> +<p>Just in time a bullet from the lieutenant’s revolver silenced another deadly fanatic. They had slipped into the gathering, +well concealed beneath enshrouding green sarongs, but Piang’s quick eye had detected them before they had a good start. + +</p> +<p>“Piang has saved us from a terrible row, boys,” said Sergeant Greer, and when the wounded were cared for, the rough soldiers +tossed the graceful boy on their shoulders and paraded through the camp, much to the delight of the hero. + +</p> +<p>“I go to find the sultan to-morrow, sir?” asked Piang. “Him at Isabella, and I must give him Kali Pandapatan’s message.” + +</p> +<p>“Well, Piang, I am with you. I’m going to face that old codger and tell him what I think of his fiendish tricks of killing +us off by this beastly <a id="d0e1836"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1836">200</a>]</span>juramentado, when he claims to be at peace with America.” + +</p> +<p>Lewis learned many things during the trip, and Piang delighted in guiding his friends through the jungle he loved so well, +through the grass eight feet high, under trees laden with strange fruits. Monkeys were swinging in the trees chattering and +scolding the intruders. + +</p> +<p>“You want monkey, sir?” asked Piang. + +</p> +<p>“Can you catch one without hurting it?” + +</p> +<p>“You watch Piang,” chuckled the boy. The others hid, and Piang struck a match. The tree, full of curious little people, shook +as they scampered about trying to see what Piang was doing. He paid no attention to them, and as he struck match after match, +they gradually crept nearer. Shielding the flame from the inquisitive creatures, he excited their curiosity until they were +unable to resist, and soon one hopped to the ground. Another came, and another. Piang paid no attention to the visitors, continuing +to hide the flame in his hands. Lewis almost spoiled it all by laughing outright, for it was indeed a ridiculous sight to +see the little wild things consumed <a id="d0e1846"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1846">201</a>]</span>with curiosity. Walking upright, their funny hands dangling from the stiff elbows, they advanced. One venturesome little gray +form clinging to the branch overhead by its tail, timidly touched Piang’s shoulder. It paused, touched it again, and finally +confidently hopped upon it, all the while craning its neck, making absurd faces at the sulphur fumes. Two little arms went +around Piang’s neck; a soft little body cuddled up against him, and all the while the monkey twisted and turned in its efforts +to discover the mystery of the flame. + +</p> +<p>The click of a camera sounded like a gunshot in the intense stillness, and up the trees went the little band in a flash, all +but the prisoner in Piang’s arms. + +</p> +<p>“Great, Piang,” called Lewis. “I hope the picture will be good, for it was the strangest sight I ever saw in my life.” + +</p> +<p>“Oh, me love monkeys,” replied the boy, stroking and soothing the frightened creature. “You want this one?” + +</p> +<p>“No, let the little beast off, I couldn’t bear to cage it up.” A banana and some sugar repaid <a id="d0e1856"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1856">202</a>]</span>the monkey for the experiment and after he was free, he followed the travelers, chattering and begging for sweets. + +</p> +<p>When they came to Isabella, capital of Basilan Island, Piang scurried off in search of the sultan. The men amused themselves +watching the excitement they created. An American soldier is a wonderful and dreadful thing to these wild folk. + +</p> +<p>“The sultan, he out in other barrio. Me catchim.” This being interpreted meant that Piang would guide them to his house. + +</p> +<p>When they finally came to a clearing, Lewis wondered why Piang stopped in front of a filthy hut, half-way up two cocoanut-trees; +he was impatient to be off, as he wanted to reach the sultan’s palace before dark. Piang was arguing with a dirty woman cleaning +fish in the river. + +</p> +<p>“Piang, what’s the idea? Let’s get on,” impatiently said Lewis. + +</p> +<p>“This His Excellency Paduca Majasari Amiril Sultan Harun Narrasid’s house,” replied Piang with awe. + +</p> +<p>“Gee, what a name!” exclaimed Lewis. “And <a id="d0e1870"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1870">203</a>]</span>to go with that dugout, too. Say, Piang, I suppose we could call the old chap Pad for short?” + +</p> +<p>Piang grinned, but instantly went on his knees, head touching the ground as a sullen, dark face, a white scar slashed across +the cheek, appeared at the opening. + +</p> +<p>“What does the beggar mean by that grunt, Sergeant?” asked Lewis. + +</p> +<p>“That’s the old boy himself, sir, wanting to know why you have disturbed his royal sleep.” + +</p> +<p>Lewis was dumfounded! This dirty, insignificant creature the sultan! He wanted to laugh, but the solemn little figure, prostrate +before the man, made him say quietly: + +</p> +<p>“Piang, get up, I want you to talk to him.” + +</p> +<p>Timidly the boy raised his eyes to his august lord; another grunt seemed to give Piang permission, for he rose and faced Lewis. + +</p> +<p>“What you want Piang to say? Be careful. He not like joke and might chop off Americanos.” + +</p> +<p>Lewis realized it was no trifling matter to meet this scoundrel alone in the jungle, far from reinforcements. His message +was simple, short, and impressive: +<a id="d0e1888"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1888">204</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Ask him why the devil he allowed those juramentados to invade my camp?” + +</p> +<p>With much ceremony Piang addressed the sultan, bowing and scraping before him. The low, ugly growls in response made Lewis +furious, but he refrained from showing his anger. The sultan’s reply amazed him. + +</p> +<p>He expressed his regrets indifferently, that the camp had been disturbed. But (he threw up his hands to indicate his helplessness) +who could stop the sacred juramentado? Not he, powerful sultan that he was. To-day was a feast of the Mohammedans. To-day +was a most holy day, and, of course, the sultan could not be held responsible if some of his men had become excited. True, +many good Americans had met their death in this way; it was most unfortunate, but how could it be stopped? Did the Christians +not have their Christmas, and did they not kill turkeys and cut trees? The Moros are a fierce people and celebrate their feast +days in a more violent manner. + +</p> +<p>Poor Lewis! Thoroughly exasperated, he tried to argue through Piang, but finding it hopeless, <a id="d0e1897"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1897">205</a>]</span>he told the boy to finish Kali Pandapatan’s business with the sultan as quickly as possible. + +</p> +<p>Discouraged, he started back through the jungle, wondering how many more fanatics had broken loose during his absence. The +sultan was deliberately picking the troops off, a few at a time, always insisting that he was at peace with the Americans. +The war department, many miles away, was unable to understand the situation. Orders required that the Moro receive humane +treatment, and forbade any drastic measures being taken against the juramentados, saying time would cure it. It was outrageous, +and intelligent men were being made fools of by the sultan, who understood the state of affairs perfectly. + +</p> +<p>The jungle began to irritate Lewis; it was a constant fight. The terrible heat, the tenacity of the vines and undergrowth +seemed directed toward him personally, as he stumbled and fought his way along. How impossible to deal with the crafty sultan +according to Christian standards! He should be given treatment that would bring <a id="d0e1903"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1903">206</a>]</span>him to terms quickly, and Lewis longed to get a chance at him. + +</p> +<p>Suddenly an idea flashed into his head. He hurried Piang, bidding him find a shorter cut home, as night was gathering. + +</p> +<p>“Sergeant Greer, come to my tent immediately,” ordered the lieutenant when he had looked over the camp and found everything +safe. + +</p> +<p>“Allow no one to enter, orderly,” he said and closed the flaps. + +</p> +<p>“Sergeant, I have a plan and I need your experience and advice to carry it out. That old sultan is a fiend, and I am going +to get him!” + +</p> +<p>“That’s been tried many times, sir, and he is still ahead of the game.” + +</p> +<p>But after Lewis had talked rapidly for a few minutes, disclosing the plan that was slated to best his majesty, a smile broke +over the weather-beaten features of the sergeant, and he slapped his thighs in appreciation. + +</p> +<p>“Well, sir, we can try it, and if it does work, headquarters will flood you with thanks; if it fails, and I warn you it might, +you will be cut into hash either by the sultan or the war department.” <a id="d0e1919"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1919">207</a>]</span>This was good advice from the old soldier. + +</p> +<p>“I know it, Sergeant, but I am going to take the risk if you are with me.” The enthusiastic young man dashed out of the tent +to make the necessary preparations for the great event. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>Christmas morning dawned sultry and heavy. The mist lifted after reveille and the troops were astonished that the <i>Sabah</i> had disappeared. Their surprise was greater to find a corporal in charge of the camp. There was a positive order that no +trooper should enter the barrio, and an air of mystery hung over the whole camp. Where was the gunboat, the lieutenant, the +sergeant, and the interpreter, Piang? The corporal shook his head to all these questions. + +</p> +<p>Suddenly rapid firing was heard in the direction of the barrio, and every soldier seized his gun and ran into the company +streets, but the corporal, calm and undisturbed, dismissed them. + +</p> +<p>Nervously the men wandered about; the two wounded men became the center of attraction and related for the hundredth time their +sensations <a id="d0e1934"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1934">208</a>]</span>when the juramentado had struck them down. They were not seriously wounded, but the cruel cuts were displayed, and they did +not prove an antidote to the tenseness of the situation. + +</p> +<p>The firing had ceased after about ten minutes, and new sounds took its place: wails and shrieks, the crackling of bamboo, +told the story of the burning village. But who had attacked the town? The corporal smiled to himself, quietly. + +</p> +<p>Cheerily a whistle rang out, sending the men running to the beach; there was the <i>Sabah</i>, tripping jauntily through the water toward her recent mooring-place, and on her deck, smiling and waving, were the missing +men. + +</p> +<p>“Merry Christmas,” Lewis greeted the men, as he walked down the company street. Stopping at the cook’s tent, he inquired what +there was for dinner. + +</p> +<p>“Beans, bacon, and hardbread,” was the reply. + +</p> +<p>“Tough menu for Christmas, eh, cook?” + + +</p> +<p></p> +<div id="d0e1950" class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p210.jpg" alt="A shrill whistle echoed through the forest" width="381" height="512"><p class="figureHead">A shrill whistle echoed through the forest</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>Since their arrival, every turkey and duck had disappeared, and the barrio offered nothing to <a id="d0e1956"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1956">211</a>]</span>enhance their limited ration. It was an old trick; the natives objected to sharing their food with soldiers, and as soon as +any troops landed on the island, ever possible article was spirited away into the jungle. + +</p> +<p>It was a bad day for every one. Most of the men were homesick, and they all felt the shadow of impending disaster; only Lewis +and his <span id="d0e1960" class="corr" title="Source: confidents">confidants</span> realized the seriousness of the situation, however. + +</p> +<p>“Corporal, take four men with bolos and cut six banana trees,” called Lewis. “Plant them in a row down the company street.” + +</p> +<p>Curiosity and amusement were mingled with indifference as the men started toward the thicket to execute the order. What had +come over the lieutenant? Obediently the trees were brought, and Lewis superintended the planting. The squad was kept busy +cutting ferns and palms, and it began to dawn on the astonished men that they were preparing for a holiday. The spirit was +taken up generally, and the gloom was gradually dispelled. + +</p> +<p>“Here, Jake, hang this mistletoe up over the <a id="d0e1969"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1969">212</a>]</span>folding doors,” commanded the corporal, handing him a bamboo shoot, and pointing to the tent door. “Now when she comes asailin’ +in to dinner, all unaware of your presence, smack her a good one, right on the bull’s eye.” + +</p> +<p>Laughter and shouts greeted this order, and when Kid Conner offered to impersonate a lovely damsel and, with mincing step +and bashful <span id="d0e1973" class="corr" title="Source: mein">mien</span>, appeared at the opening, Jake was game, and a skuffle ensued. Shrieks of merriment coming from the cook tent aroused Lewis’s +curiosity, and even his weighty matters were forgotten when he beheld Irish cooky on his knees before the incinerator arranging +a row of well-worn socks. Solemnly folding his hands he raised his eyes in supplication: + +</p> +<p>“Dear Santa, don’t forget your children in this far-away jungle. We are minus a chimney on this insinuator, but we are bettin’ +on you and the reindeers just the same, to slip one over on us and come shinnin’ down a cocoanut-tree with your pack. Never +mind the trimmin’s and holly, just bring plenty of cut plug and dry matches.” + +</p> +<p>And so the day worn on. Toward noon the <a id="d0e1980"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1980">213</a>]</span>storm broke; runners announced the approach of the sultan, and Lewis was far from calm when he gave the order to admit him +to camp. + +</p> +<p>“Piang,” he said, “there is the deuce to pay, I know, but you stick by your uncle, and we will pull through.” + +</p> +<p>No insignificant nigger greeted Lewis this time. The sultan had come in state. Where he had gathered his train, the men could +not imagine, but there he was, garbed in royal raiment, attended by slaves and retainers. Solemnly the procession advanced. +Advisers, wives, slaves, and boys with buyo-boxes followed his majesty, who was arrayed in a red silk sarong, grotesquely +embroidered with glass beads, colored stones, and real pearls. His hair was festooned with trinkets strung on wire, and on +his fingers were fastened tiny bells that jingled and tinkled incessantly. They got on Lewis’s nerves, and he quaked inwardly +when he realized why he was honored by this visit. + +</p> +<p>Finally when the members of the court had arranged themselves around their master, he loftily signaled for his buyo; Lewis, +nothing <a id="d0e1988"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1988">214</a>]</span>daunted, motioned to his striker. Amid smothered laughter he produced the lieutenant’s pipe and tobacco, using a tin wash-basin +for a tray. Mimicking the actions of the royal slave the man salaamed before Lewis and proffered the pipe. Lest the sultan +should despise his barren state, minus slaves, advisers, and wives, Lewis summoned Sergeant Greer and directed him to remain +beside him to share the honor of the visit. + +</p> +<p>When Lewis caught Irish cooky, arrayed in apron and undershirt, with a basting spoon and a meat ax held at attention, making +faces at his old sergeant, the humor of the situation came over him, and he smiled to himself as he looked at the scene before +him: the banana-trees, loosely flapping their wilted leaves, the socks idly waiting to be the center of merriment again, the +troop drawn up at attention, regardless of the variety of uniform, and beyond, the <i>Sabah</i>, sole reminder of civilization, bobbing at anchor. + +</p> +<p>Never removing his eyes from Lewis’s face, the sultan completed the ceremony of the buyo, and after deliberately rolling a +quid of betel-nut, <a id="d0e1997"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e1997">215</a>]</span>lime-dust, and tobacco leaves, the august person stuffed it into his mouth. + +</p> +<p>The trees rang with silence. Lewis thought his ears would burst as he strained them to catch the first sound that was to decide +his fate. Faithfully Piang remained by his friend’s side, despite the angry glances directed toward him from the sultan’s +party; the lad was fearful of the outcome of this tangle. + +</p> +<p>Finally the spell was broken. Women giggled, slaves flitted about, administering to the wants of the party, and the interpreter +rose to deliver the complaint. + +</p> +<p>Had there not been a treaty of peace signed between Moroland and America? + +</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Lewis. “And I am happy to serve a government that greets the Moro as brother.” The sultan stirred, perplexed +by the reply. + +</p> +<p>“Then what right had that boat,” asked the interpreter, pointing to the <i>Sabah</i>, “to shell the barrio, destroying property and killing?” + +</p> +<p>This question was received by Lewis and the sergeant with grave surprise. Solemnly they <a id="d0e2014"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2014">216</a>]</span>exchanged inquiring glances, then in mock indignation glowered at the <i>Sabah</i>. The <i>Sabah</i> disturb the peace? When had that happened? + +</p> +<p>Insolently the interpreter related the story of the attack, and a rustle of surprise and delight ran through the troop. Sorrowfully +Lewis and the sergeant shook their heads, and the sultan, puzzled at first, began to realize that he was dealing with a new +kind of “Americano.” The two men’s heads bent lower and lower as they sorrowed over the misdemeanor of their little boat. +Weighed down with grief, Lewis signaled Piang to prepare for his reply to the noble visitor. + +</p> +<p>How could he (Lewis) appease the powerful sultan for this mishap? What amends could he make for the treachery of his little +gunboat? Not even he [his hands went up in imitation of the sultan’s own gesture of the day before] could help it, powerful +officer though he was. It was Christmas, a most holy day, and doubtless before dawn the truant craft had slipped out of the +harbor without permission and had gone juramentadoing. + +</p> +<p>“Attention!” commanded Sergeant Greer, <a id="d0e2028"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2028">217</a>]</span>startling the troop into rigidness. Their delight had almost expressed itself in a whoop. + +</p> +<p>With exaggerated gestures, Lewis continued. + +</p> +<p>Did the Moro not have similar customs? And did the sultan not sympathize with him in his inability to stop this dreadful practice +in the Celebes Sea? American boats are dangerous on their feast days, and no one can tell when they may go juramentadoing +to celebrate the occasion. That is the only custom they could celebrate to-day. Look! [He pointed at the pitiful banana-trees.] +There are no gifts to adorn them with, no turkeys to kill; and the soldiers’ hearts are sad. But the <i>Sabah</i> evidently appreciated her capabilities, and doubtless before night she would again honor her country by recklessly shelling +the jungle. + +</p> +<p>At this moment from the <i>Sabah</i> a shrill whistle echoed through the forest, scattering the assembled guests in all directions. Some took to trees, others +threw themselves face down, on the ground. + +</p> +<p>The sultan was furious. He gruffly ordered his subjects back, and his beady eyes glared at <a id="d0e2044"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2044">218</a>]</span>the impostor, but he was too much of a diplomat to display his feelings further. The soldiers had been amused at first, but +they realized the danger of trifling with the sultan. Every tree and corner of the jungle would respond with an armed savage, +eager to destroy them, should the order be given, and uneasy glances were directed at the irate potentate. All the recent +good humor and mirth had vanished; only the sergeant and the lieutenant retained an air of utter indifference. They quietly +continued to smoke, gazing off into the far horizon, oblivious of their surroundings. Were they pushing that huge American +bluff too far? + +</p> +<p>After long deliberation, the sultan apparently reached his conclusion. He whispered an order, and several runners disappeared +into the jungle. Lewis heard the sergeant catch his breath, but the old man preserved his dignity admirably. More silent waiting +and smoking followed. The sultan growled his displeasure as an adviser attempted to give some piece of advice, displaying +a far from lovely temper. Piang valiantly stood his ground, ready to fight and die by his friend. +<a id="d0e2048"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2048">219</a>]</span></p> +<p>Finally sounds of the returning slaves reached the gathering. What was coming? Armed savages? Or had he ordered his poison +reptiles to be let loose among the soldiers? The stillness was oppressive. No one moved, and the sultan continued to study +the averted face of the officer. + +</p> +<p>A sound floated to them, nearer, nearer. The men braced themselves for a fight. But the sound? It was one they had all heard, +a familiar, homelike sound. + +</p> +<p>“Gobble-gobble!” It was answered from all directions. Gradually the truth dawned on Lewis. He had won, and the warm blood +rushed through his tired limbs. + +</p> +<p>“Turkeys, by gosh!” shouted a recruit, and the cry was taken up by the whole command, for slaves were pouring in with fowls +of every description. The sergeant vainly tried to establish order in the ranks, but the reaction was too great. All the good +humor and excitement of the morning was restored, and the innate childishness of the soldier began to assert itself. + +</p> +<p>“Here, Jake, hang this fellow up on that tree so he can salute his majesty in true turkey fashion,” <a id="d0e2059"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2059">220</a>]</span>shouted one man, and Jake, game as usual, tossed a big gobbler up in one of the mock Christmas-trees. From this point of vantage +the bird made the jungle resound with its protests, while the troop screamed with laughter as Jake undertook to interpret +the creature’s address. + +</p> +<p>“Piang, what will we say to the old codger now?” asked Lewis. + +</p> +<p>“I ask for gift for <i>Sabah</i>; it keep her good,” grinned the boy, and when he delivered that message to his majesty, a smile nearly destroyed the immobility +of his features. A slave handed Lewis a package done up in green leaves, and when he curiously loosened the wrappings, a handful +of seed-pearls, beautiful in luster and coloring fell in his palm. + +</p> +<p>“Thank him for the <i>Sabah</i>, Piang. I guess this will ease her restless spirit, all right. Tell him it will also serve as a balm for the wounds of the +men who were attacked by the juramentados.” + +</p> +<p>Regally the old potentate rose to take leave. Lewis wanted to slap him on the back in that “bully-for-you-old-top” manner, +but the farce <a id="d0e2075"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2075">221</a>]</span>must be completed. When the sultan paused opposite Lewis, measuring him with those cruel, steely eyes, Lewis’s only indiscretion +was a wavering of the eyelid, just one little waver, but it was very much like a wink. There was undoubtedly a response in +the other’s eyes, but that is between the sultan and Lewis. + +</p> +<p>As solemnly as they had come, the procession disappeared into the jungle. The giant trees, smothered by vines and noxious +growths, swallowed the brilliant throng and seemed to symbolize the union of the savage and the jungle. The sergeant’s great, +brawny hand was extended and grasped by Lewis in appreciation of what they had been through together. + +</p> +<p>Excitement reigned everywhere. The bedlam of fowls about to be decapitated and the shrieks of the troopers vied with each +other for supremacy. Piang was being lionized by the men, toasted and praised in high fashion. + +</p> +<p>When Lewis inspected the Christmas dinner, the old Irishman winked a solemn wink, as he reminded the lieutenant of the discarded +menu. + +</p> +<p>“You knew it all the time, sor; why didn’t you <a id="d0e2085"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2085">222</a>]</span>put me on?” With a noncommittal smile, Lewis proceeded on his usual inspection tour. After he had returned to his tent and +was settling himself to enjoy the hard-earned meal, he was startled by an unusually loud outburst among the men. It gradually +dawned upon him what it was. “Three cheers for the lieutenant! Three cheers for Piang!” was the cry that was disturbing the +jungle twilight. + + + +<a id="d0e2087"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2087">223</a>]</span></p> +</div> +<div id="d0e2088" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="label">Ninth Adventure</h2> +<h2 class="normal">The Bichara<a id="d0e2093src" href="#d0e2093" class="noteref">1</a><span class="displayfootnote"><i>Bichara</i> means meeting and corresponds to the East Indian word, <i>durbar</i>.</span></h2> +<p>Piang was about to land for the first time at Zamboanga. His tribe had looked with distrust upon the overtures made by Governor +Findy, and although they obeyed his command to appear at the <i>bichara</i>, they were prepared to fight if necessary. Pagans, Mohammedans, Catholics, and Protestants were ordered to assemble at Zamboanga +to establish peaceful trading relations, a thing that had never been dreamed of in the belligerent Sulu Isles, and Americans +as well as natives were fearful of the outcome. The governor was severely criticized for his experiment, but he had made a +deep study of the Moros, and was willing to run the risks of the present in his desire to bring the light of freedom and peace +to the misguided savages. After centuries of <a id="d0e2105"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2105">224</a>]</span>oppression and outrages against them, the Moros had of necessity become suspicious and cautious. Preyed upon by Jesuits, Filipinos, +and Spaniards, they had long ago found a ready bolo the safest argument. Governor Findy had sent them word that they were +to be protected from their enemies, and that Americans were their friends, but disturbing whispers of traps and bondage made +the wild folk hesitate to obey the summons. + +</p> +<p>Thus, a strange scene was being enacted at the Zamboanga wharf. From all directions weird crafts made their way hesitatingly +toward it. The sentries were distrustfully scrutinized, but not a soldier was armed. + +</p> +<p>“See, Kali Pandapatan, I told you the new governor was good. He trusts us and permits us to enter his barrio as friends.” +Proudly the tribe’s charm boy sprang from the war-prau, and, to the astonishment of the soldiers, as well as the Moros, strutted +up to the sergeant in charge and offered his hand, American fashion. + +</p> +<p>“I’ll be dinged, if it ain’t Piang!” exclaimed Sergeant Greer. “Is this your old man, Piang?” he asked genially, pointing +to Kali Pandapatan. <a id="d0e2113"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2113">225</a>]</span>The old chief stiffened at the apparent familiarity. + +</p> +<p>“Him big chief! Him Kali Pandapatan,” hastily corrected Piang. + +</p> +<p>“Excuse me, sor; no hard feelings, I hope. Had a rough trip over, I hear; how did you leave the missus?” + +</p> +<p>When the remark had been interpreted, a murmur rippled through Kali’s ranks, and hands flew to hips. No Moro permits his women +to be spoken of. + +</p> +<p>“What’s all the fuss, kid?” asked the sergeant, innocently. + +</p> +<p>With an impish grin, Piang replied: + +</p> +<p>“Him no like talk about missus; him got twenty.” + +</p> +<p>“The deuce he has!” laughed the sergeant. “Some old scout!” + +</p> +<p>The good-natured Irishman finally gained the confidence of the ruffled potentate, and when Piang explained that he and the +soldier were old friends, Kali solemnly acknowledged the union with a stiff handshake. + +</p> +<p>“Ver’ good,” said the savage with a grin. Piang <a id="d0e2133"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2133">226</a>]</span>glowed with pride at Kali’s display of English. + +</p> +<p>“Now what do you know ’bout that?” commented Greer. + +</p> +<p>The savages were for all the world like packs of wild animals brought to bay. Gaudy Bogobos from Davao brushed shoulders for +the first time with Sabanas and Kalibugans, and their snarls and bickerings boded ill for the success of the bichara; but +finally the natives huddled together, linked by the common suspicion of their Christian enemy. + +</p> +<p>Before entering the town, every visitor was required to place his weapons in the <i>lanceria</i>. Now a weaponless Moro is the most embarrassed of men, with the possible exception of the dreamer who finds himself at a +party in pajamas. A Moro’s idea of his costume, arranged in order of its importance is: first, weapons; second, hat; third, +shirt, and, incidentally, trousers. + + +</p> +<p></p> +<div id="d0e2145" class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p227.jpg" alt="“Juramentado! Gobernado!” faintly whispered Piang" width="512" height="398"><p class="figureHead">“Juramentado! Gobernado!” faintly whispered Piang</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>The timid creatures slunk along, looking suspiciously behind them, but as the soldiers paid no attention to them, they gradually +forgot their enmity toward civilization and became engrossed <a id="d0e2151"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2151">229</a>]</span>in the new delights: pink lemonade, pop-corn, toy balloons. They were beside themselves with joy. When ice-cream was introduced, +and they had been assured that it would not burn them, their admiration was unbounded. Piang surreptitiously slipped some +of the heavenly sweet into his wallet for future consumption and was dismayed a little later to find a thin stream trickling +down his leg and an empty wallet. + +</p> +<p>Governor Findy watched with interest the mingling of the many alien people. Wily Chinamen behind their bamboo street-stalls +ministered to the wants of the throng, taking in trade bits of gold-dust and trinkets of brass; Filipinos offered their wares, +cooling drinks and sweets. The Filipino’s costume is very different from that of the Moro. He wears stiff, white trousers, +carefully creased and immaculate shirts which hang outside the trousers. He wears no shoes, and his short black hair is oiled +and brushed very carefully. + +</p> +<p>“Now, it’s many times I’ve been wonderin’ what the advantage is in wearin’ your shirt outside your trousers,” said Sergeant +Greer to a <a id="d0e2157"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2157">230</a>]</span>sentry. “That’s what I call practical,” and he pointed to an ice-cream vender, industriously wiping a spoon on the tail of +his shirt, before offering it to a new customer. + +</p> +<p>There was great excitement over the coming <i>baile</i> (ball). That night savages and Christians were to enjoy the festivities side by side, and marvelous tales of preparation +were being circulated. Piang and Kali Pandapatan wandered about the village, pausing here and there, filled with awe at the +novel sights. The value of garters as necklaces had been discovered, and a brilliant crimson pair decorated the chief’s neck +(he had gladly parted with five dollars’ worth of gold-dust for the treasure). Gilt collar buttons were forced into the holes +in his ears. Safety-pins and their surprises had to be investigated, and an admiring throng crowded around, marveling at Kali’s +daring. + +</p> +<p>“Kali!” Piang exclaimed suddenly. “Look!” + +</p> +<p>Seated at a table in front of a Chino café, were three men in earnest conversation: Alverez, a Filipino mestizo, who had acquired +by deception the Moro title, Dato Tamangung; his cousin Vincente; <a id="d0e2168"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2168">231</a>]</span>and the Moro malcontent, Sicto. The two Filipinos were disloyal employees of the government, already suspected of being the +instigators of unrest among the Moros. Sicto was a deserter from Kali’s ranks and was wanted by that august chief for many +serious offenses. Dato Kali Pandapatan scorned to report Sicto to the authorities. A Moro dato is supreme and has the right +to punish his subjects according to his own lights. A woman, mingling with the gala bichara throng had a mere stump for an +arm; she was a thief and her hand had been severed to prevent it from offending again. A man with face half covered showed +the savage justice dealt a liar; his mouth had been split from ear to ear to permit easier passage of the truth. Sicto would +be handled according to Moro law, but not here. + +</p> +<p>Kali and Piang exchanged a knowing look, and Piang wandered off, apparently seeking new pleasures, but furtively watching +the three men. He wormed his way through the crowd intent on a game of chess, played by two venerable old Chinamen. A sudden +“Sssshhh” from Sicto interrupted <a id="d0e2172"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2172">232</a>]</span>Alverez’s excited whisper, but not before Piang had caught a few significant words: + +</p> +<p>“The baile—juramentado—Findy.” + +</p> +<p>The little charm boy’s heart beat violently, but his face never changed expression. Juramentado! So some poor misguided fanatic +had been persuaded to assassinate the governor. He and Kali must prevent the outrage, for had they not sworn allegiance to +this new chief? Piang feared that Sicto suspected the words had been overheard, so he carefully avoided Kali and strolled +on among the people. A glance at his chief had warned Kali that trouble was in the air. + +</p> +<p>Sicto, Alverez, and Vincente moved off toward the dock. + +</p> +<p>“Sicto, did Piang hear what I said?” asked Alverez. + +</p> +<p>“Does the jungle hear the trumpeting of the elephant?” angrily retorted Sicto. + +</p> +<p>“He hasn’t spoken to any one yet,” said Vincente, significantly. “We had better get rid of him before—” +<a id="d0e2186"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2186">233</a>]</span></p> +<p>A whispered conversation followed, and Alverez finally exclaimed: + +</p> +<p>“I’ll do it! Wait here. Watch Piang.” Then he hurried off. + +</p> +<p>Without approaching Kali, or divulging the secret to any one, Piang followed the men to the dock, and Sicto laughed softly +as he watched the unsuspecting boy walk into the trap. The little gunboat <i>Sabah</i> was bobbing at her moorings, and Piang joined the crowd that was gazing in wonder at the strange craft. A shrill whistle, +signifying the <i>Sabah’s</i> intention of immediate departure, so terrified the Moros that some took to their heels while others sought the safety of +tall lamp-posts. Piang was laughing merrily when he was startled by a noise, and turning, he saw Alverez and a soldier running +toward him. + +</p> +<p>Instantly everything was confusion, and Piang realized that he was the center of the excitement. + +</p> +<p>“Are you Piang?” asked the soldier, cautiously approaching him. + +</p> +<p>“Sure, me Piang.” + +</p> +<p>“Hike! Beat it!” said the man, pointing to the <i>Sabah</i>. +<a id="d0e2210"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2210">234</a>]</span></p> +<p>What did he mean? Was Piang to be allowed to go aboard the boat? + +</p> +<p>The soldier made it very plain, finally, that such was the case, but Piang insisted that he could not depart on a pleasure +ride without getting his chief’s permission. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Sigi</i>, beat it, I tell you, <i>pronto</i>!” said the soldier impatiently, emphasizing the command with a push. Almost before Piang realized it, he found himself on +the gunboat, which was slowly moving out toward the channel. In his hand was a crumpled piece of paper which the soldier had +gingerly thrust into it. + +</p> +<p>“Here’s your passport, kid,” he had said with a grin. Piang carefully unrolled the paper and stared at the queer American +characters. A sailor offered to translate it for him, but when he glanced over the paper, he uttered a low whistle. + +</p> +<p>“Say, you go away back and sit down! Don’t you come near me or any one else, sabe?” + +</p> +<p>Piang recoiled before the look of disgust on the sailor’s face. What was the matter with every one? Why were they all afraid +to come near <a id="d0e2229"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2229">235</a>]</span>him, and where were they taking him? He summoned up enough courage to ask who had written the letter, and when he was told +that it was signed by Governor Findy, he felt reassured. Surely if the good governor was sending him somewhere, it would be +all right. Disconsolately, Piang crouched in a corner, watching sharks and dolphins sporting in the foaming wake. He wondered +how long the boat was going to be out, if it would return in time for him to save the governor. When he started toward a group +of men to ask for information he was met with a shout. + +</p> +<p>“Get out of here, you!” they yelled, and poor Piang hurriedly retreated to the stern. Much talk of the coming baile seemed +to indicate that the sailors expected to return before evening, so Piang patiently squatted on a coil of rope, wondering when +the mysteries of his errand would be revealed to him. + +</p> +<p>The ocean is dotted with many lovely islands off Zamboanga. Somber, lowering Basilan guards its secrets to this day; Sacol, +home of Dato Mandi, invites and then repels the intruder; tiny clumps of vivid green rise out of the channel <a id="d0e2235"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2235">236</a>]</span>in the most unexpected places, as if timidly wishing to investigate before adding their emerald mite to crown the Celebes. +The island toward which the <i>Sabah</i> was making her way seemed blacker and denser than its more frivolous neighbors. Two staccato whistles warned the islanders +of the <i>Sabah’s</i> approach, and the beach was soon the scene of lively commotion. The engines stopped, and the gunboat slid along easily. A +boat was lowered. The sailors were speaking in low voices; one looked toward Piang and shook his head sadly. + +</p> +<p>“My task is not to be an easy one,” thought the charm boy, but his head went up proudly. These sailor men should see how a +brave Moro executed the commands of his superiors. + +</p> +<p>“Come on, kid,” called a jacky, and just as Piang stepped over the side a kindly sailor slipped a quarter in his hand. It +was evidently a gift, and the boy grinned appreciatively. + +</p> +<p>“Wastin’ your coin, man,” remarked another sailor with a harsh laugh. “He’s not likely to need <i>dinero</i> (a silver coin) soon.” Piang wondered again at the pitying looks that were cast <a id="d0e2252"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2252">237</a>]</span>at him, but he only held his head higher and climbed into the boat. The men seemed in a great hurry; they landed far up the +beach, and bags and provisions were hastily dumped on the sand. + +</p> +<p>“Here you are, young ’un,” said a sailor, and Piang looked up eagerly. + +</p> +<p>“Me, here?” + +</p> +<p>“Yep, this is your place,” replied the man, looking away quickly from the soft brown eyes. + +</p> +<p>Obediently the jungle boy jumped out, awaiting instructions. The sailor in charge pointed to the paper in Piang’s hand and +waved toward the barrio. + +</p> +<p>“For dato?” Piang asked, with a puzzled look. + +</p> +<p>“Sure, the dato,” replied the man evasively, and Piang turned and started off through the jungle, following a well defined +path. + +</p> +<p>“Plucky kid, that,” said the sailor who pushed off. “Wonder if he knows what’s up? Half the time they don’t tell the poor +devils. Row over toward the patrol-boat, and I’ll warn them to watch carefully to-night in case he tries to <a id="d0e2268"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2268">238</a>]</span>escape. When they first land here they kick up a terrible row and usually try to make a get-away or commit their particular +brand of hari-kari [suicide].” + +</p> +<p>Piang was in a great hurry. There was no time to be lost and whatever the business in hand might be, it must be finished quickly. +He wondered why some of the sailors had not come with him. Americans are always so curious and never lose an opportunity to +visit a strange barrio. He ran on swiftly. + +</p> +<p>Two sounds broke simultaneously on his ears. What was there in them to strike a chill to his heart, to fill him with forebodings? +That shrill whistle! It was surely the <i>Sabah’s</i>, and as Piang came to a small clearing, he caught a glimpse of the harbor. A cry broke from him. The <i>Sabah</i> was sailing away. Before he could fully realize the calamity, that other sound, ominous and terrible, came again from the +barrio. A low rumbling, punctuated with shrieks and screams, came nearer, nearer. Suddenly from out the dense undergrowth +protruded a face, shoulders, and finally a woman, old and bent, crept through. <a id="d0e2280"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2280">239</a>]</span>Spell-bound, Piang watched her. Wisps of unkempt gray hair straggled around her head; filthy rags hung from her lean, stooping +shoulders; sunken eyes, sly and vicious, glared at Piang. Tremblingly the boy watched her creep toward him. There was something +about the old hag that turned his blood cold. The distant rumble became individual howls, and Piang suddenly realized that +he was being hunted. But why, and by whom? The innocent paper in his hand crackled. The old hag was very near, was about to +touch him. With a shriek, Piang jumped back. Her hands were festered; her face and neck were covered with white splotches. + +</p> +<p>“A leper!” cried the boy and suddenly he realized that he had been trapped by that villain, Sicto. Not Sicto, but Alverez +had filched the order for the confinement of a leper, had erased the name, and substituted Piang’s. He flung the damning paper +from him. + +</p> +<p>As the boy darted off through the jungle, the old woman yelled. The cry brought the others, and when Piang caught sight of +them, he almost lost hope. Would he be able to escape the contamination <a id="d0e2286"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2286">240</a>]</span>of this island? With mad shrieks, the lepers gave chase, eager to lay hands on one so lately relegated to their colony. Was +he not a leper too? What right had he to scorn them, his brothers? Hotter, fiercer grew the chase. The island was so small +that it afforded little refuge for the hunted boy. Sounds from all sides indicated that the chase was almost over; it was +only a matter of minutes now, and never again could he leave the dread colony. + +</p> +<p>A rustle at his feet startled him, and some animal scurried off into the bush. A dark hole from which it had evidently crawled +attracted Piang’s attention, and without an instant’s hesitation, he flung himself on the ground and wormed his body into +the welcoming shelter. Pulling a fallen branch in front of the opening, he shrank farther back into the cave. Cave? No, he +had taken refuge in a fallen tree trunk, hollowed out by the persistent ferreting of termites (ants). + +</p> +<p>“He was here, here,” screamed the old woman. The pursuers flocked to the spot, and Piang listened as they beat the bush, clamoring +for their victim. They were so infuriated at the new arrival’s <a id="d0e2292"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2292">241</a>]</span>unsociability that they would probably kill him if they found him. + +</p> +<p>Piang crouched back in his cramped quarters. The tiny white ants announced their disapproval of the intrusion by vicious stings, +but Piang did not move. A sudden jolt made his heart beat wildly. Some one had jumped on the other end of the log, and the +rotting wood had caved in. He expected each moment to be his last. Over his head the pattering of bare feet, running along +the trunk, sounded like thunder. + +</p> +<p>When the lepers moved off into the jungle, Piang was not deceived. They would lie in wait, and their revenge would be the +more terrible for the delay. Sweat poured down Piang’s face; his body ached where the ants had stung him. He tried to plan +some means of escape, but none came to his tired brain. + +</p> +<p>“There is no God but Allah,” whispered the charm boy, and a peace seemed to fall upon him. + +</p> +<p>Many weary hours went by before a squawk penetrated the death-like stillness. Fruit-bats! It must be night. Very slowly he +made his way toward the opening. Unfortunately for Piang <a id="d0e2302"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2302">242</a>]</span>the full moon was rising, making the soft, tropical night a wonder of beauty and loveliness. Cautiously he thrust his head +through the branches that shielded his retreat. He was very near the ocean; the other end of the fallen tree, in which he +had found refuge, was lying in the water, and the rising tide was gradually creeping up over it. The gentle swish of the sea +comforted Piang. It was his friend, the only friend that could help him escape from this island of decay. His practised eyes +discerned the shadowy forms of watchers squatting along the beach; beyond, the patrol-boat moved about restlessly, and in +the distance twinkled the lights of Zamboanga. + +</p> +<p>“If I could only get past the lepers and the boat, I could swim back,” thought Piang, and he looked with longing at the oily +smoothness of the water. Nothing could slip past the boat on that sea of glass in the bright moonlight. He remembered the +schools of sharks he had seen in the <i>Sabah’s</i> wake and shuddered; but even that was better than being doomed to die here. He pillowed his head on his arms and leaned against +<a id="d0e2309"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2309">243</a>]</span>the trunk; his hand closed over a piece of dry bamboo. Lifting it to his eye, he idly squinted through it; it was smooth and +clean. + +</p> +<p>Piang fell to soliloquizing. How many times, surrounded by his friends, he had swum in the moonlight. He remembered one night +in particular. How they had sported with bamboo sticks, blowing the spray high in the air, laughing as it fell upon each other! +Piang could swim miles with arms folded, pushing through the water like a fish, rolling over on his back or sides, when tired. +He had fooled the tribe by staying under water for three minutes, breathing easily through his hollow, bamboo tube. Kali had +given him a prize. + +</p> +<p>Piang’s eyes widened, brightened. With the bamboo stick—could he? He blew through it softly and laughed. But how to get into +the water without being detected? The approaching tide, lapping the other end of the fallen log, seemed to be caressing it +in pity. Piang examined it closely. Dared he crawl along the trunk? His eyes fell upon the hole just above the water where +one of his pursuers had broken through. +<a id="d0e2315"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2315">244</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Allah, I thank Thee,” breathed the excited boy. He had found his chance, had discovered a possible means of escape. + +</p> +<p>Crawling back into the log, he tested the heart of the tree and to his joy, it crumbled under his touch. With a smothered +cry, he began to cut his way through the pithy, dust-like wood, and as he gradually worked quantities of the soft fiber loose, +he tossed it behind him. If he could work his way through the rotted trunk before the tide turned, it would be an easy matter +to slip through the hole into the water. + +</p> +<p>It was suffocating in the damp inclosure, as the discarded pith began to fill the opening. Tiny apertures let in just enough +air, but Piang was panting and dripping with sweat. As he struggled on toward the hole, he could feel the water under him, +as it swayed the log gently. Only a little further! + +</p> +<p>The moonlight bathed Piang in its soft light; a cool breeze blew across his face. One of the watching lepers stood up suddenly. + +</p> +<p>“There are many crocodiles to-night,” he finally said, pointing toward the log where a <a id="d0e2326"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2326">245</a>]</span>slight ripple, widening into vanishing rings, closed over a dark form. +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>“That’s a queer kind of fish!” + +</p> +<p>The sailors on the patrol-boat crowded around the speaker, glad of any excitement to break the monotony of their vigil. A +thin stream of water had spurted up, disturbing the perfect calm of the surface, and a small black object could plainly be +seen, hurrying through the water. + +</p> +<p>“Now what the deuce?” said the captain. Two bells were loudly sounded, and the boat bounded forward. + +</p> +<p>“Look out, don’t run it down. Steer to one side.” + +</p> +<p>The search-light, turned full upon the strange object, revealed to the puzzled sailors a slim bamboo tube, sticking upright, +propelled by a strong force from below. + +</p> +<p>“Now, why don’t that stick float, instead of sailing along like a periscope?” pondered the captain. + +</p> +<p>As suddenly as the phenomenon had appeared, it sank from sight and the chase ended abruptly. +<a id="d0e2344"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2344">246</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Look at our visitors,” said a sailor, pointing over the side. Long streaks of phosphorescence darted back and forth in the +shadow of the boat. + +</p> +<p>“That’s a pretty bunch of shovel-nosed man-eaters, for you,” remarked the mate. “Gosh, wouldn’t you hate to give the hungry +devils a chance at you, though?” +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>The baile was in full swing. The bichara was proving a great success. Governor Findy graciously accepted the savages’ allegiance +to the new government and their promises to make the trading system a success. The small park in the center of the garrison +was teeming with life. On one side the American band gave the first notes of civilized music that the Moros had ever heard; +opposite, rows of brass tom-toms responded mournfully. Gaudy lanterns festooned the tall trees and swung between, describing +graceful curves. Flickering moonlight and fireflies added their bit. At one end of the park a platform had been erected for +the officers and their families. The savages crowded around as the Americans swayed to the waltz, and their surprise <a id="d0e2353"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2353">247</a>]</span>was no less than that of the Americans, when the tom-toms stirred the Moros to the dance and they whirled and crouched in +native fashion. + +</p> +<p>Governor Findy was surrounded by his personal guard; burly Irishmen shared this honor with stalwart Moros, thus proving the +governor’s trust in the wild people. + +</p> +<p>Dato Mandi, Dato Kali Pandapatan, and Governor Findy were conversing on the steps of the dancing platform. + +</p> +<p>“Kali says that Piang mysteriously disappeared about noon to-day,” explained Mandi in excellent English. + +</p> +<p>“Who is this Piang, Mandi?” asked the governor. + +</p> +<p>“Piang is the idol of the Buldoon tribe. He is Kali Pandapatan’s famous charm boy, friend of General Beech and Lieutenant +Lewis,” replied Mandi. + +</p> +<p>“Strange that one so well known should disappear. Yes, I have heard much of this boy’s loyalty and sagacity.” The two Moros +turned quickly, warned by a startled look on the governor’s face. Far down the smooth shell road a <a id="d0e2367"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2367">248</a>]</span>figure was staggering, wavering toward them. + +</p> +<p>“Trouble, trouble,” muttered Findy. + +</p> +<p>The music ceased with a discordant jar, there was a slight stir among the spectators as Sicto and his companions attempted +to retire, but to their surprise, Kali’s faithful men closed about them significantly. On came the figure, lithe, slim, and +brown. + +</p> +<p>“Piang!” cried Kali Pandapatan, and instantly his eyes sought out the cowering Sicto. + +</p> +<p>The heavy, labored breathing became audible as the exhausted boy stumbled through the crowd. A sentry started forward to seize +him, but the governor waved him aside. Dripping and panting, Piang staggered toward his chief. + +</p> +<p>“Juramentado—gobernador!” faintly whispered Piang. + +</p> +<p>A wild shriek crashed through the intense stillness; a green sarong was torn off, and the white-clad figure of a juramentado +rushed at the governor. But Kali Pandapatan was quicker, and just as the assassin raised his barong, a slender kriss glistened +in the moonlight and descended. The juramentado lay bathed in his own blood. +<a id="d0e2381"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2381">249</a>]</span></p> +<p>Jumping up to the platform, Kali Pandapatan raised his hands. + +</p> +<p>“My brother chiefs,” he cried, “did any of you know of this foul plot?” + +</p> +<p>“No, no!” came the quick response from every Moro, and although the Americans could not understand his words, they began to +realize that Kali was exhorting his people to disclaim knowledge of the outrage. + +</p> +<p>“Viviz Gobernador!” came from the full, savage throats, and the cry was taken up by the multitude. + +</p> +<p>The dazed governor looked down at the prostrate figure at his feet, looked long, and sorrowed. + +</p> +<p>“But for the brave Piang I should have been lying there,” he murmured. + +</p> +<p>Piang supported by Kali watched this new chief. + +</p> +<p>“Come here, Piang,” said the governor. Fumbling with the collar of his white uniform, he loosened something. + +</p> +<p>“My lad, I thank you for your bravery,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “For your <a id="d0e2400"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2400">250</a>]</span>timely arrival, and your courage. Your name shall be sent to the great chief at Washington.” + +</p> +<p>The words were repeated to the jungle boy, and his manly little chest swelled with pride. + +</p> +<p>“Piang, I am about to decorate you with the emblem of our government; these infantry cross-guns I shall pin on your breast.” +The dignified governor reached forward to make good his words, but he paused in embarrassment, the noble speech dying on his +lips. He gazed in dismay at the naked little savage, standing straight and expectantly before him. + +</p> +<p>“I shall <i>place</i> this emblem.” The officer began again. There was a titter among the spectators. + +</p> +<p>Piang, eagerly eyeing the treasure, wondered why the governor delayed. Suddenly a gleam of understanding broke over him, and +he grinned, broadly. With the tip of his finger he touched the shining cross-guns, then his necklace of crocodile teeth. The +situation was saved. + +</p> +<p>Amid thunderous applause the smiling governor fastened the guns to the indicated article of dress, and loud and clear rose +the shout: + +</p> +<p>“Piang! Piang!” + + + +<a id="d0e2417"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2417">251</a>]</span></p> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="label"><a id="d0e2093" href="#d0e2093src" class="noteref">1</a></span> <i>Bichara</i> means meeting and corresponds to the East Indian word, <i>durbar</i>. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="d0e2418" class="div1"><span class="pagenum"> +[<a href="#d0e149">Contents</a>] +</span><h2 class="label">Tenth Adventure</h2> +<h2 class="normal">Piang’s Triumph</h2> +<p>Two years had passed since the bichara. Prosperity and honor had come to Dato Kali Pandapatan and his people under the rule +of General Beech and Governor Findy, and Piang had been raised to the post of official interpreter. Sicto, the disturber, +had been seized in Zamboanga on the charge of complicity in the plot on Governor Findy’s life; he had attempted to escape, +and there were varying reports as to the results. Some said that he had been killed by a crocodile, others that he had escaped +and swum to Basilan; but the tribe had not heard of him since the bichara, and they were relieved to be rid of his bullying +presence. Especially the little slave girl, Papita, whom Sicto had annoyed since infancy, was glad that he was gone. Sicto’s +father had captured the little maid in a raid on <a id="d0e2425"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2425">252</a>]</span>the Bogobo country, and the boy seemed to think it his special privilege to abuse and torment her. + +</p> +<p>Along the steep mountain trail, dividing the jungle as a river might, crept a slow procession. A lumbering carabao swayed +lazily forward, and on each side walked four stalwart Moros, ever heedful of the dignified figure astride the beast. Dato +Kali Pandapatan rode in silence. Occasionally he gazed down into the deep valleys or off in the direction of Ganassi Peak, +but the sorrowful, patient expression never left his face. + +</p> +<p>Where was Piang? For three days the boy had been missing, and Kali guessed only too easily what had taken him away in such +haste. A few days before little Papita had mysteriously disappeared. It was whispered that the notorious Dato Ynoch (Ee-nock) +had kidnapped her, and Kali was already preparing an expedition against the marauder. He felt the strain of civilization for +the first time, for he had given his word never to assemble his warriors without the permission of the white chiefs at Zamboanga. +But Piang, the impatient, the valiant, could not brook the delay, and had in all probability started <a id="d0e2431"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2431">253</a>]</span>after his little friend alone. Kali’s messengers should return to-day, and he had ridden far out to watch for their coming. + +</p> +<p>The procession reached the clearing that gave a full view of the sea. In the distance the eye could discern the curving coast +of tiny Bongao; Kali was impervious to the summer beauty and youth of the sparkling ocean, to the charm of the dainty island +so gaily chatting with the garrulous waves. He did not see the graceful, white rice-birds or the regal aigrets flitting about +among the trees; he saw only the vast, restless ocean. There were no boats in sight. + +</p> +<p>Slowly the willing carabao was turned homeward, and the aged monarch sorrowfully gave up hope of sending succor to Piang that +night. The recent storm had probably delayed his envoys, and he must wait the <i>Sabah’s</i> monthly visit, which would come the next day. + +</p> +<p>At the door of his hut Kali Pandapatan was helped from the royal beast’s back and up the steep ladder entrance into the cool +dusk of the interior where industrious women squatted at their several tasks. +<a id="d0e2442"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2442">254</a>]</span></p> +<p>“I miss the child’s lively chatter,” Aioi was saying sadly. + +</p> +<p>“She was a trying pupil, I can tell you,” remarked the woman at the loom, “but a winning child.” She leaned closer to Aioi +and whispered: + +</p> +<p>“Did you know that Papita had been asked in marriage?” The surprised look on Aioi’s face made an answer unnecessary. + +</p> +<p>“Our chief is said to have spurned the offer. You know he has always hoped to prove Papita’s noble birth; he wanted Piang +to have her, so when the terrible Dato Ynoch’s offer came—” + +</p> +<p>“Who speaks the name of our enemy in my house?” thundered Kali, glowering at the chattering women. “Bend to your tasks and +have done with idle gossip.” +</p> +<hr class="tb"><p> + +</p> +<p>What difference did it make to Piang if he was alone, if he had only the barest clue to Papita’s whereabouts? He was going +to follow up that clue, and something seemed to tell him that he was on the right track. The jungle was dripping and steaming +after a three days’ downpour; <a id="d0e2457"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2457">255</a>]</span>monkeys and birds were huddled in the trees, melancholy, but patient, knowing that their friend, the burning tropic sun, would +come to them again, some day. Piang trudged on through the sticky, slippery jungle. An occasional fresh track or recent camping +site made him push forward eagerly. What he should do when he did overtake the kidnappers, he had no idea, but something always +happened to help Piang. He reverently touched his sacred charm. + +</p> +<p>The deluge through this lower jungle must have been terrific. Piang was glad that he had been in his mountain barrio during +the tempest. Strewn everywhere were branches and enormous tree-ferns; a dead hablar-bird lay in his path. Leeches, hiding +on the backs of leaves and twigs, caught at Piang as he brushed by, clinging and sucking their fill, before he could discover +them. He raised one foot quickly and yelled: + +</p> +<p>“<i>Tinick!</i>” (“Thorn!”) While he was searching for the thorn his other foot began to ache and pain. Piang was too wise to hesitate a +moment, so he swung up to a low branch and sat there nursing his feet. He was puzzled; there was no <a id="d0e2466"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2466">256</a>]</span>thorns in them, and he could find no cuts. Gradually the soles of the feet began to swell and take on a purplish hue. Piang +gave a low whistle and bent to examine the ground. + +</p> +<p>“<i>Badjanji!</i>” (“Bees!”) he exclaimed. The ground was yellow with the little bedraggled, stupified creatures. They had been beaten down +by the storm and would remain there until the sun came to coax them into industry again. Swinging lightly from one tree to +another, Piang reached one of the numberless brooks that ramble aimlessly about through the jungle, and, dropping to its banks, +buried his feet in the healing clay. After a short time the pain grew better, and he continued his journey. + +</p> +<p>He was nearing Dato Ynoch’s domain on the banks of Lake Liguasan. The outlaw had chosen his lair well, for it was one of the +most inaccessible spots in Mindanao. On all sides treacherous marsh lands reached out from the lake, and it was almost impossible +to tell when one might step from the solid jungle into a dangerous morass. A few hidden trails led to the barrio, and by great +good luck Piang discovered <a id="d0e2475"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2475">257</a>]</span>one. Quietly he crept along into the ever-increasing twilight, for the trail led deep into the jungle’s very heart where daylight +and sunshine never penetrate. Sounds came faintly from the barrio; tom-toms and many drums beat a monotonous serenade. A fiesta +must be in progress. A fiesta? Piang’s face grew hot, and his black eyes flamed. Could it be that the fiesta was poor Papita’s +wedding? He broke into a run and, panting and sweating, pushed farther into the darkening jungle; but the trail was evidently +an abandoned one, for it brought up suddenly against a wall of thorns and closely woven vines. Throwing himself on the ground, +Piang wriggled through the offensive marsh weeds, and finally found himself almost on the edge of Lake Liguasan. From his +retreat he could plainly see the village streets. The barrio was certainly preparing for a fiesta and no ordinary one, either, +for elaborate and barbaric decorations shrouded huts and street. Raised on two posts at the entrance of the village, was a +carcass of a mammoth crocodile, in its opened jaws a human skull. Piang shuddered. He had heard that Dato <a id="d0e2477"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2477">258</a>]</span>Ynoch’s followers were gathered from among the renegade Dyak pirate head-hunters, who fled to Mindanao from Borneo justice. +The human skull confirmed the rumor, for there are no cannibal tribes among the Moros. + +</p> +<p>It was certainly a marriage feast that the women were preparing. A raised platform in the middle of the campong (common), +tastefully decorated with skulls small, skulls large, and skulls medium, formed the altar, and a large black bullock was already +tied to the <i>sapoendoes</i> (sacrifice post). Piang flushed with excitement at an unusually loud beating of tom-toms; the chief was coming. Piang had +long wished to see this terrible Ynoch. Weird stories of his terrible personality, his disfigured countenance were widespread. +That so powerful a dato could have sprung up so suddenly puzzled the Moros, and Ynoch’s identity still remained a mystery. + +</p> +<p>Down the center of the street advanced a gaudy procession headed by a barbaric priestess. From her head protruded massive +horns decorated with flaming red flowers. Around her loins was strapped a crimson sarong; her body swayed <a id="d0e2486"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2486">259</a>]</span>and twisted to the savage rhythm of the tom-toms. A tall, amazingly fat man stepped to the platform. His back seemed oddly +familiar to Piang, as well as the slinking gait, the shambling step. Straining his eyes, Piang waited. Dato Ynoch raised his +hand for silence and turned toward the waiting populace. Piang nearly cried out as he caught sight of the face. + +</p> +<p>Oily of hair, oily of eye was this Dato out-law. His shifting glance wandered restlessly over the heads of the people, meeting +no man’s eye. Beneath the pomp of his trappings, the fat, overfed body protruded grotesquely, and his movements were slow +and clumsy. One almond-shaped eye had been partly torn from its socket, leaving a hideous, red scar. An ear, which appeared +to have slipped from the side of the oily head and lodged on a fold of the fat neck, had in reality been neatly carved from +its proper place by an enraged slave and poorly replaced by a crude surgeon. A bamboo tube had been inserted in the original +ear-drum. + +</p> +<p>“Sicto!” gasped Piang. The mysterious Dato Ynoch, was Sicto, the mestizo. +<a id="d0e2492"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2492">260</a>]</span></p> +<p>That Papita had been dragged to the barrio, Piang now had no doubt, and his nimble wits began to look about for a way of escape. +He was near the banks of a creek that led to the Cotabato River and thinking that the most likely escape, he wormed his way +toward it. Along the bank were canoes of every description. The swift ones seemed to be all four-oared, and he knew that he +must have a fleet, light vinta to elude the Dyaks. He spied a tiny white boat tied to a gilded post, and his heart nearly +stopped beating when he read the name “Papita” on the bow. + +</p> +<p>“Papita!” Piang scornfully whispered. “Papita, indeed!” His lip curled, and he glared through the rushes at the hideous Sicto. + +</p> +<p>“Well, it shall be Papita’s after all!” Piang said and he smiled. He crept toward the little craft to see if there were paddles +in it. There were two, and Piang suddenly remembered that part of the Dyak betrothal ceremony takes place upon the water. + + +</p> +<p></p> +<div id="d0e2500" class="figure"><img border="0" src="images/p261.jpg" alt="The waterspout caught the eggshell praus in its toils" width="381" height="512"><p class="figureHead">The waterspout caught the eggshell praus in its toils</p> +</div><p> + + +</p> +<p>Long Piang pondered as he watched the preparations for Papita’s betrothal. He examined the <i>cotta</i>, counted the praus, and his keen eyes <a id="d0e2509"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2509">261</a>]</span>followed the creek to its sharp turn. He crawled past the bend to make sure that the stream was navigable. Satisfied that +he could escape through its waters, Piang began to cut rushes, and, squatting in the protecting undergrowth, busily worked +while he indignantly listened to the loquacious Sicto telling his followers that Papita was no slave, but a maiden of royal +Bogobo birth. He and his father had kept it secret because they intended her for his wife, and at last he had captured the +girl from Kali Pandapatan. Faster and faster flew Piang’s fingers, and finally a basket began to shape itself out of the rushes. +Soon Piang had two perfect baskets, and he slung them over his shoulder. While Sicto and his villains were celebrating the +coming wedding, Piang quietly slipped back through the jungle, back to the brook where the medicinal clay had cured the bee +stings. When he returned later, he handled the baskets with great care and chuckled softly to himself. + +</p> +<p>A second beating of tom-toms thundered through the barrio. The bride was coming. Down an avenue made for her by hostile looking +<a id="d0e2513"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2513">264</a>]</span>women, crept a tiny, terrified figure. It was draped in the softest Eastern stuffs; jeweled anklets and bangles tinkled merrily. +A gauzy veil of wondrous workmanship swathed the figure, but through it all Piang recognized his beloved Papita. Slowly she +approached the altar; fearfully she raised her eyes to the man who awaited her there. Her little feet faltered, and the priestess +supported her. Papita leaned heavily against the woman. Three soft notes of a mina-bird floated over the barrio, and Papita +became suddenly alive. Again the notes stole through the jungle. The bride threw back her veil. + +</p> +<p>“The unwilling maid seems to have forgot her woe,” said one scornful woman to another. “Now that she is about to become our +chief’s first wife, she does not weep and cry to be taken home.” + +</p> +<p>The priestess commenced the ceremony that was to last all night. Chants, prayers, admonitions, all, Papita responded to with +renewed vigor, and her eyes furtively glanced toward a spot near the curve of the creek where a slender <a id="d0e2519"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2519">265</a>]</span>reed swayed unceasingly. After many hours the priestess led the way to the water and Ynoch placed Papita in her gala vinta +and pushed her out into the stream. He got into another, and the two boats nosed each other while the crowd showered them +with oils and perfumes. When the command came to part, each boat shot off in an opposite direction. A maiden and a bridegroom +are each supposed to meditate for the last time on the advisability of the union before the final ceremony; so reads the Dyak +marriage laws. + +</p> +<p>As indifferently as a queen, Papita plied her paddle, paying no heed to the unfriendly eyes and mutterings of the Dyaks; she +seemed in no haste and managed her vinta with amazing skill for one so small. Only once she seemed to lose control; her vinta +cut deep into the tall rushes near the bend of the creek. Had the Dyaks been less intent on exhibiting their scorn, they might +have noticed that when the boat drew back from the rushes it rode deeper in the water, and the little figure labored harder +at the paddle as the vinta turned the bend and passed from sight. +<a id="d0e2523"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2523">266</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Piang! is it you?” + +</p> +<p>As Papita spoke, the form lying in the bottom of the vinta slowly unfolded like a huge jack-knife. The merry eyes twinkled, +the youthful, firm mouth curved at the corners, and Piang, the adventurer, smiled up at the astonished girl. + +</p> +<p>“But yes, Chiquita, did you think that Piang would suffer the outcast Sicto to kidnap his little playmate?” Piang took up +the paddle and the vinta shot forward. Silently the two bent to the task, every moment increasing the distance between them +and their enemies. + +</p> +<p>“Will they catch us, Piang?” + +</p> +<p>“Of course not, my Papita. Piang, the charm boy comes to rescue you.” The proud head went up with arrogant superiority. + +</p> +<p>“But there are many hidden cut-offs and creeks between us and the river, Piang; Sicto will surely trap us.” The terrified +expression in the girl’s soft eyes touched Piang’s heart. + +</p> +<p>“Have no fear, Papita. Let Sicto overtake us and he will be sorry. Put your ear to the baskets.” +<a id="d0e2538"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2538">267</a>]</span></p> +<p>As the girl bent over the two baskets, lying in the bottom of the vinta, a frown puckered her brow. A dull hum, like a caged +wind protesting in faint whispers, rose from them. Gradually a smile broke over her face, and she laughed softly. + +</p> +<p>“Yes; Sicto will be sorry if he overtakes us,” she whispered. + +</p> +<p>Through the deepening night, a roar came to the fugitives. A deep, cruel howl; tom-toms beat a ragged and violent alarm; savage +war-cries rent the air, bounding back from one echo to another. Papita’s hand wavered at her paddle. Piang’s stroke grew swifter, +surer. The outraged bridegroom had returned from his meditations to find himself brideless. + +</p> +<p>“How will they come, Piang?” Papita’s voice trembled. + +</p> +<p>“Some by water, some by land. Work, Papita.” + +</p> +<p>And so the deadly tropic night closed about them. The little nut-shell sped down the river, past snags, skulking crocodiles, +and many unseen dangers. The jungle came far out over the water, dangling her treacherous plant-life above <a id="d0e2551"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2551">268</a>]</span>them, ready to drag them from the vinta: it crept beneath them, shooting up in massive trees that obstructed their passage—trees +loaded down with parasites, intertwined, interlaced in hopeless confusion, each trying to crush and climb over the other in +the fight for supremacy. + +</p> +<p>Where the creek empties into the Cotabato River, Piang paused; there were suspicious-looking shadows close to the bank, and +he reached for his precious baskets. + +</p> +<p>“Work slowly, Papita,” he whispered, and the trembling girl kept the vinta just moving. From its ominous silence, the jungle +crashed into chaos. + +</p> +<p>“Lè lè lè lè iiiiiio!” shrieked the echoes. + +</p> +<p>Piang was ready. + +</p> +<p>“Lè lè lè lè iiiiiio!” he tauntingly replied. + +</p> +<p>Kneeling in the bow of the vinta, he hastily lighted a green resinous torch and stuck it upright. It gave forth the pungent, +heavy perfume of the jungle pitch. Waiting until his enemies were almost upon him, Piang raised one basket above his head +and opened the trap. A sudden buzz and whirl filled the air; Piang reached for the second basket and held it in the smoke +of the <a id="d0e2565"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2565">269</a>]</span>torch, ready to open. For a few moments, nothing happened, but the enemy slackened their pace, and the war cries were silenced. +Finally yells of rage and pain broke from them: + +</p> +<p>“Badjanji!” they screamed. The little insects, infuriated at the treatment they had received, fairly pounced upon the defenseless +Dyaks. No jungle pest is so dreaded as the enraged honey-bee. Its envenomed stings are poisonous, deadly, and often cause +more painful wounds than bolos. The men fought desperately. Tauntingly Piang laughed, swiftly he and Papita paddled, and the +smoke from the torch enveloped them in its protecting waves. Coming abreast of the war-prau, Piang loosed the other basket +of bees. + +</p> +<p>On sped the vinta, and ever nearer came the great estuary that gave upon the Celebes Sea. The sounds of the sufferers grew +fainter, and finally Papita and Piang were again alone in the great night. + +</p> +<p>“They will return and assemble the war fleet, Papita; they will pursue us into the ocean. If the water is rough, we cannot +cross the bay to Parang-Parang in this vinta. We must hide <a id="d0e2573"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2573">270</a>]</span>near the coast and make our way homeward on foot.” + +</p> +<p>Morning fairly burst upon them. Twilight in the tropics is a name only, for the sun rises and disappears abruptly, and it +is day or night in a few moments. The early light showed the ocean in the distance, and at the same moment sounds behind made +Piang listen anxiously. + +</p> +<p>“They are coming, Papita; we must hide.” + +</p> +<p>As Piang headed for the bank, he noticed a thin stream of smoke trembling above Bongao. He paused and trained his eye on the +blur. Suddenly he dug his paddle into the water. + +</p> +<p>“Papita, quick! The <i>Sabah</i> is coming!” + +</p> +<p>Again the vinta shot forward, down through the shifting, treacherous delta, out into the ocean. Louder grew the beating of +paddles against the Dyak war-praus, and Piang could hear the war chant. He knew that Sicto cared little for ships; he had +evaded too many of them. Only the <i>Sabah</i>, Sicto feared, but he would probably take a chance on this being the Chino mail boat or a Spanish tramp. That the Dyaks would +take the chance and follow, Piang was sure. +<a id="d0e2591"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2591">271</a>]</span></p> +<p>The sea was choppy and fretful. The little bride boat danced and careened about recklessly. Between the <i>Sabah</i> and Piang lay Bongao, and straight for Bongao he headed, skilfully keeping the vinta steady. A white mist rose, as if to +hide the vinta from the pursuers, but when the fleet reached the river’s mouth a yell announced that they had been discovered. +The race was for life, for more than life, and the boy seemed possessed of a supernatural strength. Nearer came the smoke, +and finally around the point of Bongao, burst the little gunboat. At first the Dyaks did not heed the stranger, so used were +they to hurling contempt at island visitors, but when in answer to Papita’s signal, as she stood up waving her disheveled +wedding veil, there came a shrill whistle, they paused in dismay. + +</p> +<p>In a very short time Papita and Piang were raised over the side of the <i>Sabah</i>, and General Beech and Governor Findy were questioning them. + +</p> +<p>“You say that Dato Ynoch is pursuing you?” + +</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, that is him in the first prau,” excitedly replied Piang. +<a id="d0e2606"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2606">272</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Well, Piang, it is Ynoch that brings the <i>Sabah</i> here to-day. We thank you, my boy, for tempting him into the open.” + +</p> +<p>When the Moro boy disclosed Ynoch’s identity, a grim smile settled over Governor Findy’s face. + +</p> +<p>“Man the guns, Captain!” commanded General Beech in his dignified, quiet way. + +</p> +<p>The Dyaks were scattering in the wildest confusion, making their way back to the river with all speed, but the <i>Sabah</i> relentlessly pursued. A sudden darkening shadow startled the captain of the <i>Sabah</i>, and he pointed toward the mountains. + +</p> +<p>“Something queer hatchin’ over there, General.” + +</p> +<p>A dense mist hid the hills; only old Ganassi Peak stood out, dignified and stern. Like a dirty piece of canvas, one cloud +balanced itself on Ganassi’s shoulder and rapidly spread itself around the peak. It seemed to sap the very life from Ganassi, +as it enveloped it in a chilling embrace. Slowly the cloud loosed its hold and bounced along on the lower hills. In its center +<a id="d0e2628"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2628">273</a>]</span>it seemed to bear a restless, struggling mass, and the passengers on the <i>Sabah</i> watched it nervously. Strange things happen very suddenly in the sunny Celebes. Fascinated, they watched the odd cloud lumbering +toward them, dipping and lifting its burden. It sailed over the mountains, flitted past the jungle and reached the ocean, +where it hovered and waved as if undecided which way to go. At times, like canvas, it would belly down in the middle, almost +burst, right itself, and come sailing on. Again and again the heavy contents pulled the cloud to earth, but valiantly struggling +with its burden, it resisted. The cloud brought with it a death-like mist, damp and choking, and the sunshine was abruptly +put out. The thing hesitated over the <i>Sabah</i>, dipping and sucking itself back, as if made of elastic; it wandered about aimlessly and paused over the fleeing Dyaks. Finally +as if discouraged and strained beyond its endurance, it gave up. + +</p> +<p>With shrieks and cries the Dyaks watched it. Tons and tons of water burst from the cloud, striking the sea with a hiss that +sent the spray high in the air. +<a id="d0e2638"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2638">274</a>]</span></p> +<p>“Waterspout!” yelled the captain and ordered the <i>Sabah’s</i> engines stopped. In horror they beheld the crazy column careen about, obeying its master, the capricious wind, and following +any stray current; around and around the spiral, grinding mass of water veered and circled aimlessly. It danced and capered +about the ocean like some malignant monster loosed from torment, and finally, as if by direct intent, started for the river’s +mouth. The Dyaks saw it coming, and in their puny efforts to escape, looked like ants before an elephant. The five streams, +flowing through the delta of the Cotabato River, seemed to draw the vicious waterspout toward them, and on it went, directly +in the wake of the doomed Dyaks. Tensely the <i>Sabah’s</i> passengers followed the course of the spout. The whirling Nemesis descended upon the pirates; their cries of anguish came +faintly through the roar and hiss of water; crude Dyak prayers, shrieked by terrified worshipers, smote upon their ears, and +finally, like a whirlwind, the waterspout pounced upon its victims. It caught at them with a thousand arms; it tossed them +up, <a id="d0e2647"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2647">275</a>]</span>bore them down, tore them from the light eggshell praus, crushing them to bits. + +</p> +<p>Through the entire fleet stalked the monster, dealing out death and destruction to all, and, when there remained naught to +vent its wrath upon, like an insatiate giant, it turned toward the jungle. Straight up the river it marched, rooting up trees, +tearing down banks, and gradually vanished in the distance, leaving wreckage and disaster in its path. + +</p> +<p>Silenced by the terrible spectacle, the Americans seemed to huddle closer together for protection, or comfort. But two figures +stood out alone on the <i>Sabah’s</i> deck. + +</p> +<p>Papita’s eyes were fastened on Piang, on the charm that dangled from his necklace of crocodile teeth; Piang was lost in Ganassi +Peak. His eyes were filled with a divine awe as he silently faced his beloved peak, where dwelt his wonder man, the Hermit +Ganassi. Every element of his being, his very attitude, proclaimed that his spirit was pouring out a thanksgiving to his patron, +whose prayers to Allah, the Merciful, had sent the waterspout to destroy his enemies. The <a id="d0e2658"></a><span class="pagenum">[<a href="#d0e2658">276</a>]</span>Christians, boasting a greater God, were put to shame by this artless exhibition of a faith that they could never feel, and +their eyes were filled with admiration as they looked upon this Moro boy, transfigured in his faith, as he muttered softly: + +</p> +<p>“There is no God but Allah!” + + +</p> +<p class="aligncenter"><span class="smallcaps">The End</span> + + +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="back"> +<div class="transcribernote"> +<h2>Colophon</h2> +<h3>Availability</h3> +<p>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 <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/">www.gutenberg.org</a>. + +</p> +<p>This eBook is produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at <a href="http://www.pgdp.net/">www.pgdp.net</a> from scans made available by Google. + +</p> +<p>The scans used to prepare this eBook can be found at Google Books at <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=0i_6HtWLwIsC">http://books.google.com/books?id=0i_6HtWLwIsC</a>. + +</p> +<h3>Encoding</h3> +<p></p> +<h3>Revision History</h3> +<ul> +<li>25-AUG-2007 Started. + +</li> +</ul> +<h3>Corrections</h3> +<p>The following corrections have been applied to the text:</p> +<table width="75%"> +<tr> +<th>Location</th> +<th>Source</th> +<th>Correction</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a href="#d0e348">Page 11</a></td> +<td width="40%"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] + +</td> +<td width="40%">”</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a href="#d0e870">Page 82</a></td> +<td width="40%">Assin</td> +<td width="40%">Asin</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a href="#d0e1375">Page 144</a></td> +<td width="40%">bajuka</td> +<td width="40%">bajuca</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a href="#d0e1960">Page 211</a></td> +<td width="40%">confidents</td> +<td width="40%">confidants</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width="20%"><a href="#d0e1973">Page 212</a></td> +<td width="40%">mein</td> +<td width="40%">mien</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Piang the Moro +Jungle Boy, by Florence Partello Stuart + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES OF PIANG *** + +***** This file should be named 22407-h.htm or 22407-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/4/0/22407/ + +Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ from scans made +available by Google Books. + + +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. 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