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; _bajuca_ 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.
On, up, fled the boy. He came to a clearing 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.
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.
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?
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
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.
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.
"I am the real charm boy," he whispered, "and nothing will hurt
me. Ganassi, the wonder man, is with me. Forward!"
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.
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. 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 _packda_ (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.
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 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?
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. 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.
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.
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.
"Piang!" The name echoed and vibrated through the forest. Who had
called him? Trembling with fear, filled with apprehension, 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?
"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.
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 be led along a well defined path, trodden by many feet.
"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.
"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; 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.
"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.
"Thank you, my little friends, for bringing Piang to Ganassi," said
the voice from within.
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 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.
"So, my little pet, you have frightened Piang, the charm boy! You
must not do that."
The snake, responding to the voice, stuck its head through the foliage
and slipped from sight.
The voice! The voice! It had called him the charm boy! Piang's fear
abated, and he said tremblingly:
"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 his knees. The hermit surrounded by his pets,
advanced and raised the boy.
"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."
"Is it true, O wise man, that I am the real charm boy, and that I
shall lead Kali Pandapatan's tribe to victory?"
"You have spoken, my son. It was over you, not the impostor, Sicto,
that the mystic star hovered on the night of your birth."
At the mention of his enemy's name, Piang quickly scanned the
surrounding jungle, but Ganassi's soft chuckle reassured him.
"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."
"How do you know all this, O Ganassi?"
"The question shall be answered, Piang, because you are charm boy,
but should other lips utter it, they should never speak again. Enter."
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.
Piang could scarcely believe his eyes. Here all was at peace, and
natural enemies forgot to fight and kill.
"Piang, all these creatures are going to be your friends."
Piang seated himself on the soft turf opposite Ganassi; the fawn
nosed her head under Piang's arm and sank by his side.
"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."
Solemnly the boy followed the words of the old man.
"You shall be taught all the truths of the nation, and you shall pass
them along to the generations."
Piang's face brightened. At last he was to know the answers to many
puzzling questions.
"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."
"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:
"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.
"'Answer correctly, or you pay for it with your life!' thundered
Mahomet. Isa then replied that he had two strange animals in the room.
"'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."
Piang was shocked. No wonder his people abstained from the flesh of
the boar.
"Can you tell me what makes the sea rise and fall, and why the tides
rush in and flow out again?" asked Piang.
A smile broke over Ganassi's leathery features.
"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.
"Where do we go when we die," asked the inquisitive boy.
Ganassi scouted the Christian's belief that heaven is in the
clouds. Were they not in the clouds now?
"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? 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 of punishment is over, it precedes to heaven,
cleansed of its sins."
The big ape, sleeping soundly, emitted a snore so human, that Piang
laughed.
"Why does the packda look so like a man, Ganassi?"
"Because he once _was_ 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."
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.
Piang was very happy. He had reached Ganassi, was proclaimed the
real charm boy, and was at last to receive the glorious charm. Some
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.
"Up, up with you, sleepyhead!" called Ganassi. "The sun will catch
you napping if you do not hurry."
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
packda contemplating him with indifference. From the doorway Ganassi
smilingly watched him.
"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.
"Piang, no dato can boast of a grander court than Ganassi,
eh?" chuckled the old man.
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.
"Piang, my creatures approve my action. This is the sacred charm. One
and all the animals 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.
"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!"
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.
"You may rise, Piang. You are now invincible!"
Bounding to his feet, Piang clasped the charm.
"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.
"And if it is not beautiful, shiny, and bright, boy, what then?"
"Oh, but it must be, Ganassi! It is the most valuable thing in
the world!"
"You may unclasp it, Piang."
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.
"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:
"I am satisfied."
"Shake the gourd, Piang."
A hollow rattle came from the immature growth, and Piang's face
brightened.
"Its worth may be inside. Who knows? Only Ganassi, the wonder man,
and he will tell no one." The keen old eyes twinkled as they watched
Piang's face.
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:
"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."
A silence fell upon them all. The solemn words had sobered Piang,
and he gazed into the eyes of the wise man.
"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."
FOURTH ADVENTURE
THE FIRE TREE
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 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.
"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." 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. Women gathered their children to them; men grasped their
weapons more firmly, and the young boys looked with longing eyes at
the fortunate Piang.