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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. Asin and Tooloowee were taken into the secret, and they set to work to develop Piang's plan.
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. Jumping up to the platform, Kali Pandapatan raised his hands.
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. "I shall throw my creese into the air.
"Him big chief! Him Kali Pandapatan," hastily corrected Piang. "Excuse me, sor; no hard feelings, I hope. Had a rough trip over, I hear; how did you leave the missus?" 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. "What's all the fuss, kid?" asked the sergeant, innocently.
Kali Pandapatan, with folded arms, paused in the doorway of his hut, watching expectantly the only opening into the frowning jungle. "He comes! He comes!" rippled through the barrio. 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.
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.
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. Gilt collar buttons were forced into the holes in his ears.
"Trouble, trouble," muttered Findy. 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. "Piang!" cried Kali Pandapatan, and instantly his eyes sought out the cowering Sicto.
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. "Where is Piang?" Dato Kali Pandapatan addressed a copper-colored slave who salaamed and replied: "In the jungle, O most high one, searching for the blooming fire branch." "It is well."
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.
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