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Updated: June 9, 2025
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?
The current was so swift here that it was hardly necessary to paddle at all; so he rested to examine the shore. 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.
"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. "Quick, Papita," urged Tooloowee, and the girl came fearlessly to the aid of Piang. "Piang!" she wailed. "Why didn't you let it have Sicto!"
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.
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.
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.
A maiden must prevent a youth from confronting her; the youth, 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.
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.
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. 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. Up, up, he climbed.
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. "Sicto!" called Kali.
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