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Updated: July 5, 2025
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. "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. The old chief stiffened at the apparent familiarity.
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. 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.
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. 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.
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