XX.

IN THE WOODS.

There had not been much hope in this second baklad. Every one expected to find there the crocodile's mate; but the net always came up full. The fishing ended, the boats were turned toward the shore. There was the party of the townspeople whom Ibarra had invited to meet his guests of the morning, and lunch with them under improvised tents beside a brook, in the shade of the ancient trees of the wooded peninsula. Music was resounding in the place, and water sang in the kettles. The body of the crocodile, in tow of the boats, turned from side to side; sometimes presenting its belly, white and torn, sometimes its spotted back and mossy shoulders. Man, the favorite of nature, is little disturbed by his many fratricides.

The party dispersed, some going to the baths, some wandering among the trees. The silent young helmsman disappeared. A path with many windings crossed the thicket of the wood and led to the upper course of the warm brook, formed from some of the many thermal springs on the flanks of the Makiling. Along the banks of the stream grew wood flowers, many of which have no Latin names, but are none the less known to golden bugs, to butterflies, shaded, jewelled, and bronzed, and to thousands of coleopters powdered with gold and gleaming with facets of steel. The hum of these insects, the song of birds, or the dry sound of dead branches catching in their fall, alone broke the mysterious silence. Suddenly the tones of fresh, young voices were added to the wood notes. They seemed to come down the brook.

"We shall see if I find a nest!" said a sweet and resonant voice. "I should like to see him without his seeing me. I should like to follow him everywhere."

"I don't believe in heron's nests," said another voice; "but if I were in love, I should know how at once to see and to be invisible."

It was Maria Clara, Victoria, and Sinang walking in the brook. Their eyes were on the water, where they were searching for the mysterious nest. In blouses striped with dainty colors, their full bath skirts wet to the knees, outlining the graceful curves of their bodies, they moved along, seeking the impossible, meanwhile picking flowers along the banks. Soon the little stream bent its course, and the tall reeds hid the charming trio and cut off the sound of their voices.

A little farther on, in the middle of the stream, was a sort of bath, well enclosed, its roof of leafy bamboo; palm leaves, flowers, and streamers decked its sides. From here, too, came girls' voices. Farther on was a bamboo bridge, and beyond that the men were bathing, while a multitude of servants were busy plucking fowls, washing rice, roasting pigs. In the clearing on the opposite bank a group of men and women had formed under a great canvas roof, attached in part to the branches of the ancient trees, in part to pickets. There chatted the curate, the alferez, the vicar, the gobernadorcillo, the lieutenant, all the chief men of the town, including the famous orator, Captain Basilio, father of Sinang and opponent of Don Rafael Ibarra in a lawsuit not yet ended.

"We dispute a point at law," Crisostomo had said in inviting him, "but to dispute is not to be enemies," and the famous orator had accepted the invitation.

Bottles of lemonade were opened and green cocoanut shells were broken, so that those who came from the baths might drink the fresh water; the girls were given wreaths of ylang-ylang and roses to perfume their unbound hair.

The lunch hour came. The curate, the alferez, the gobernadorcillo, some captains, and the lieutenant sat at a table with Ibarra. The mamas allowed no men at the table with the girls.

"Have you learned anything, senor alferez, about the criminal who attacked Brother Damaso?" said Brother Salvi.

"Of what criminal are you speaking?" asked the alferez, looking at the father over his glass of wine.

"What? Why, the one who attacked Brother Damaso on the highway day before yesterday."

"Father Damaso has been attacked?" asked several voices.

"Yes; he is in bed yet. It is thought the maker of the assault is Elias, the one who threw you into the swamp some time ago, senor alferez."

The alferez reddened with shame, if it were not from emptying his glass of wine.

"But I supposed you were informed," the curate went on; "I said to myself that the alferez of the Municipal Guard----"

The officer bit his lip.

At that moment a woman, pale, thin, miserably dressed, appeared, like a phantom, in the midst of the feast.

"Give the poor woman something to eat," said the ladies.

She kept on toward the table where the curate was seated. He turned, recognized her, and the knife fell from his hand.

"Give the woman something to eat," ordered Ibarra.

"The night is dark and the children are gone," murmured the poor woman. But at sight of the alferez she became frightened and ran, disappearing among the trees.

"Who is it?" demanded several voices.

"Isn't her name Sisa?" asked Ibarra with interest.

"Your soldiers arrested her," said the lieutenant to the alferez, with some bitterness; "they brought her all the way across the pueblo for some story about her sons that nobody could clear up."

"What!" demanded the alferez, turning to the curate. "It is perhaps the mother of your sacristans?"

The curate nodded assent.

"They have disappeared, and there hasn't been the slightest effort to find them," said Don Filipo severely, looking at the gobernadorcillo, who lowered his eyes.

"Bring back the woman," Crisostomo ordered his servants.

"They have disappeared, did you say?" demanded the alferez. "Your sacristans have disappeared, Father Salvi?"

The curate emptied his glass and made another affirmative sign.

"Ho, ho! father," cried the alferez with a mocking laugh, rejoiced at the prospect of revenge. "Your reverence loses a few pesos, and my sergeant is routed out to find them; your two sacristans disappear, your reverence says nothing; and you also, senor gobernadorcillo, you also----"

He did not finish, but broke off laughing, and buried his spoon in the red flesh of a papaw.

The curate began with some confusion:

"I was responsible for the money."

"Excellent reply, reverend pastor of souls!" interrupted the alferez, his mouth full. "Excellent reply, holy man!"

Ibarra was on the point of interfering, but the priest recovered himself.

"Do you know, senor alferez," he asked, "what is said about the disappearance of these children? No? Then ask your soldiers."

"What!" cried the alferez, thus challenged, abandoning his mocking tone.

"They say that on the night when they disappeared shots were heard in the pueblo."

"Shots?" repeated the alferez, looking at the faces around him. There were several signs of assent.

Brother Salvi went on with a sarcastic smile:

"Come! I see that you do not know how to arrest criminals, that you are unaware of what your soldiers do, but that you are ready to turn yourself into a preacher and teach others their duty."

"Senores," interrupted Ibarra, seeing the alferez grow pale, "I wish to know what you think of a project I've formed. I should like to give the mother into the care of a good physician. I've promised the father to try to find his children."

The return of the servants without Sisa gave a new turn to the conversation. The luncheon was finished. While the tea and coffee were being served the guests separated into groups, the elders to play cards or chess, while the girls, curious to learn their destiny, posed questions to the "Wheel of Fortune."

"Come, Senor Ibarra!" cried Captain Basilio, a little gayer than usual; "we've had a case in court for fifteen years and no judge is able to solve it; let's see if we cannot end it at chess."

"In a moment, with great pleasure," said Ibarra; "the alferez is leaving us."

As soon as the officer had gone the men grouped around the two players. It was to be an interesting game. The elder ladies meanwhile had surrounded the curate, to talk with him of the things of religion; but Brother Salvi seemed to judge the time unfitting and made but vague replies, his rather irritated glance being directed almost everywhere except toward his questioners.

The chess players began with much solemnity.

"If the game is a tie, the affair is forgotten!" said Ibarra.

In the midst of the play he received a despatch. His eyes shone and he became pale, but he put the message in his pocket without opening it.

"Check!" he cried. Captain Basilio had no recourse but to hide his king behind the queen.

"Check!" said Ibarra, threatening with his castle.

Captain Basilio asked a moment to reflect.

"Willingly," said Ibarra; "I, too, should like a moment," and excusing himself he went toward the group round the "Wheel of Fortune."

Iday had the disc on which were the forty-eight questions, Albino the book of replies.

"Ask something," they all cried to Ibarra, as he came up. "The one who has the best answer is to receive a present from the others."

"And who has had the best so far?"

"Maria Clara!" cried Sinang. "We made her ask whether her lover is constant and true, and the book said----"

But Maria, all blushes, put her hand over Sinang's mouth.

"Give me the 'Wheel' then," said Crisostomo, smiling. And he asked:

"Shall I succeed in my present undertaking?"

"What a stupid question!" pouted Sinang.

The corresponding answer was found in the book. "'Dreams are dreams,'" read Albino.

Ibarra brought out his telegram and opened it, trembling.

"This time your wheel lies!" he cried. "Read!"

"'Project for school approved.' What does that mean?" they asked.

"This is my present," said he, giving the despatch to Maria Clara. "I'm to build a school in the pueblo; the school is my offering." And the young fellow ran back to his game of chess.

After making this present to his fiancee, Ibarra was so happy that he played without reflection, and, thanks to his many false moves, the captain re-established himself, and the game was a draw. The two men shook hands with effusion.

While they were thus making an end of the long and tedious suit, the sudden appearance of a sergeant and four armed guards, bayonets fixed, broke rudely in upon the merry-makers.

"Whoever stirs is a dead man!" cried the sergeant.

In spite of this bluster, Ibarra went up to him and asked what he wanted.

"We want a criminal named Elias, who was your helmsman this morning," replied the officer, still threatening.

"A criminal? The helmsman? You must be mistaken."

"No, senor, this Elias is accused of having raised his hand against a priest. You admit questionable people to your fetes."

Ibarra looked him over from head to foot and replied with great coldness.

"I am in no way accountable to you for my actions. Every one is welcome at my fetes." And he turned away.

The sergeant, finding he was making no headway, ordered his men to search on all sides. They had the helmsman's description on paper.

"Notice that this description answers well for nine-tenths of the natives," said Don Filipo; "see that you make no mistakes!"

Quiet came back little by little. There were no end of questions.

"So this is the Elias who threw the alferez into the swamp," said Leon.

"He's a tulisane then?" asked Victoria, trembling.

"I think not, for I know that he once fought against the tulisanes."

"He hasn't the face of a criminal," said Sinang.

"No; but his face is very sad," said Maria. "I did not see him smile all the morning."

The day was ending, and in the last rays of the setting sun everybody left the wood, passing in silence the tomb of Ibarra's ancestor. Farther on conversation again became animated, gay, full of warmth, under these branches little used to merry-making. But the trees appeared sad, and the swaying bindweed seemed to say: "Adieu, youth! Adieu, dream of a day!"