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.
"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!"
"I saw the ocean long ago, Papita," answered the boy with exaggerated
dignity.
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.
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.
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
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 _liendoeng_ (water-snake),
brilliantly striped with red and black, made the women scream with
fright. Dashing among them, 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.
"Ah la la la lele!" he cried, dancing and jumping about, waving the
snake above his head.
"Oh, goody! Piang has come back to us," cried the delighted
Papita. "You will not frown and scowl again, will you, Piang?"
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.
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 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 _lombak_ dust (seasoning) and wrapped
in pisang leaves. Weird instruments made their appearance: drums of
bell-metal, jew's-harps of bamboo. The _gansas_, 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.
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, 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.
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 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.
The music ceased abruptly. With fear in their hearts and bated breath,
the tribe waited again for the sound that had disturbed their revelry:
"_Le le, li li._" The tribal call rang through the forest faintly.
"_Blako ampoen_, Allah," ("I beg for mercy, Allah,") whispered Kali
Pandapatan, supplicatingly.
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.
"_Un-di?_" ("Whither?") called Kali Pandapatan.
"The barrio--Bal-Bal!" gasped the exhausted old man.
The night pressed upon them. Up the river darted Asin's slender banco
with Kali Pandapatan and a few picked warriors.
"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.
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 _taloetook_ (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 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.
"_Karangan!_" ("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.
A light twinkled in the distance; confused sounds reached the rescuers,
and they pushed forward with renewed energy.
"Ooooh, Mihing!" called Asin, in his cracked, wavering voice.
"Ooooh!" came the answer from the barrio.
"Piang, we look to you to protect us from Bal-Bal, to you and your
sacred anting-anting." Solemnly Kali Pandapatan made this announcement.
The boy was the first to land. The lame and the halt crowded around
him, imploring him to save them. Confused, Piang wondered what was
expected of him but suddenly he remembered what the great Ganassi
had said:
"The source of power is faith!"
His proud little head went up; his brave eyes smiled:
"Have no fear, my people. Piang, the charm boy, will protect you."
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.
All eyes turned toward the charm boy.
"La ilaha illa llahoe," softly prayed Piang, scrutinizing the frowning
jungle, as it closed in on all sides.
"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."
A relieved sigh from the listeners greeted this speech.
"Bravely spoken, little brother," said Kali Pandapatan.
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.
"Le le 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.
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; _liana_ and _bajuca_
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 crest,
only to return, dangling and swinging like the ragged draperies of
a slattern, reaching out tenacious arms in search of new support.
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.
"Le le li li!" crashed through the stillness. With the dim past Piang
connected the disturbing sounds. The gleaming lights were beautiful,
compelling.
"Le le 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. Yes, the tree was alive;
it was moving. A giant creeper was swaying toward him, would grasp
him in its toils.
"Le le li li!" persistently the call was repeated. "Le le 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.
Asin, who had been curiously watching Piang for some time, rushed
toward him and caught the fainting boy in his arms.
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.
Asin and Tooloowee were taken into the secret, and they set to work
to develop Piang's plan. A wild boar, which had been captured for
crocodile bait, was fastened to a pole in the middle of the _campong_
(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.
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.
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
charm boy at work on the silly-looking structure that he was not
allowed to approach.
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.
"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.
"_Ular-Sawa!_" ("Giant python!") he gasped, hastily closing the
window. A little captive monkey whined pitifully.
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 nerve
center registers sounds by vibration, and when a python is eager to
listen, it extends its black, forked tongue.
"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.
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.
"Now, Piang, now!" softly whispered Kali. Calculating the distance,
Piang jerked the ratan cable, and the noose tightened around the
snake's throat.
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.
The clouds were heavy and the moon shone fitfully.
"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 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.
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.
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 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.
"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!" 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 blow severed the awful head, which bounced and rolled to
Papita's feet.
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 _tilick_ (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.
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:
"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."
A knowing smile flitted across Kali's face as he caught the irrelevant
reply:
"Papita--is she safe?"
SEVENTH ADVENTURE
THE SECRET OF THE SOURCE
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.
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.
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 men sullenly watched the strangers advance, making
no attempt to stop them, but there was no mistaking their hostile
attitude.
"Where is the dato?" asked the interpreter, who rode in ahead of the
men. There was no answer.
"Come, where is the chief? The white men bring good news; they
bring food."
Instantly there was a change. Kali Pandapatan stepped in front of
the others and said in his musical patois:
"I am Dato Kali Pandapatan. Speak. Do not deceive us."
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.