Part 5

"Am I not charm boy?" he demanded. "Any one who refuses to obey me will be thrown to the crocodiles!" Gradually the dominant nature overruled their timidities, and the protests subsided. Following Piang's directions, strips of bamboo were cut, and the charm boy constructed light frames for his feet. They looked like snow-shoes, and when he bound one securely to each foot and jumped lightly to the bank, there was a cry of surprise. Piang, the wonderful, was indeed sent by Allah to guide them!

In a twinkling each Moro was supplied with similar mud-shoes, and like giant land-crabs, they flitted off across the marsh. Too wise to begin before reconnoitering, Piang led his men to the banks of the stream below to Big Bend. After hasty calculations he set them to work digging toward the head waters, following a line of ratan which he stretched to guide them.

Faster, faster flew the scoops and broad knives; deeper, wider grew the ditch that was to form a new river-bed. Piang was everywhere. He flew about on his light frames as lightly as a faun, directing the construction of new tools, calculating and measuring for the ditch.

Once he heard a call from the man guarding the rafts. A troop of wild hogs, attracted by the comoties, was trying to reach the rafts. Piang lighted a torch and hurled it among them. Crocodiles lurked near, and he ordered torches kept burning to frighten them also.

New difficulties confronted Piang. Would the water not at first rush through the ditch with such force that the rafts would be dashed to pieces? He held a branch in the current; it was torn from his grasp. With great foresight, he ordered all the floats to be taken up the river and securely moored. Back to the ditch he flew. Yes, yes, it was going to be successful! Before the attack was made by Kali Pandapatan, Piang would have the rafts through the cut-off, safely on their journey to the estuary. How surprised the dato would be when Piang advanced against the enemy from the other side of the Big Bend! He laughed softly, hugging himself in boyish delight.

Away he pattered toward some men who were apparently in difficulty.

"_Halamantek!_" ("Leeches!") they called. They were pulling the slothful creatures off each other, but as soon as they freed themselves from the pests, more fell from above or crept up from the mud. Piang had foreseen this difficulty and had supplied himself with a small gourd filled with cocoanut oil, strongly saturated with cinchona (quinine). Offering some of his small store to the men, they gratefully rubbed the mixture into their flesh and bent to their task again. Piang exhorted them to work, warning them if the ditch was not completed before moonrise, all would be lost, and off he danced blending in with the night and its secrets like a picturesque _pampahilep_ (jungle imp).

Only Moros could have accomplished so difficult a task in the dark. With a will they sturdily plied the crude tools and before the blackness of the night had been lifted by the rising moon, the excited little party was crowding around Piang as he examined the few remaining feet to be accomplished. Like a general meeting a crisis, Piang sharply gave his orders:

"Tooloowee, take your pole and stand on the far side of the ditch. When I give the signal, push the dyke with all your might." He stationed another powerful Moro opposite Tooloowee.

"Bungao, do you hasten to the rafts and prepare to resist the first flood that will sweep through the ditch."

When all was ready Piang raised his hand and the struggle began. Little by little the soft mud was worked away, and the current, feeling the banks weaken, seemed to lose interest in its natural bed. At first the stream only caressed its new-found outlet, but gradually it concentrated its forces, and, with a mighty rush, attacked the slight remaining resistance and went thundering off into the ditch. A smothered cry went up from the Moros:

"Piang! Piang!" How they loved their wise little charm boy!

But the work was not yet completed. Piang let go his anchorage and headed for the mouth of the ditch. The water was rapidly widening the work of their hands, but in places the cut-off was barely wide enough to let the long slender floats by, and the water was rushing through with terrific force. The moon trembled on the brink of the jungle. Would they reach the other side in time to aid Kali? Suppose he was driven back before Piang and his men could attack from the other side?

"_Ala! ala!_" ("Quickly! quickly!") Piang called softly. His raft came up with a sudden jerk, almost throwing him into the seething, muddy torrent. Other rafts bumped into his, and soon a blockade was forming as the swift current bore them down upon him. Piang cut and slashed at the banks, tearing away protruding vines and accumulating driftwood. The moon, the moon, would it wait? Frantically he toiled while Tooloowee held off the other rafts with his long pole. When Piang's float was finally released, it bounded joyously along, nosing first one bank, then the other. The river! He could see it! Only a few rods more!

At the mouth of the ditch there was more trouble. Mud and debris had collected along the sides, but these were quickly worked through and they passed into the main river. Little short of a miracle had been performed. The ditch was growing wider and deeper every moment and judging from the enormous flow of water, it would not be long before the river deserted its circuitous route in favor of this direct one.

"Quick! quick!" whispered Piang. "Bungao, bind the siwaka rafts together and head for Cotabato. We will overtake you before sunrise." A faint cry reached them. Kali had begun the attack. In an agony of suspense the brave Moros worked their way up toward the Big Bend. Suddenly Piang grasped Tooloowee's arm and pointed toward a streak that ran across the river.

"The boom! We must cut it!" They made a dash toward the obstacle that stood in Kali's path, but an arrow whizzed by their heads.

"Tooloowee, we have been discovered. I go to cut the way!" and before the astonished Tooloowee could prevent, Piang had dived into the water and disappeared.

"Piang, the crocodiles, the crocodiles!" wailed Tooloowee, but the charm boy could not hear as he slipped up the muddy river, swimming easily under water. Just as Kali was preparing to retreat, driven back by the fierce storm of arrows, he gave the signal that had been agreed upon. Three loud calls in imitation of the mina-bird went wailing through the night. What was Kali's surprise to hear the answer a few yards in front of him! And what was that dark shape bobbing up and down on the boom?

While he watched, amazed, the big clumsy logs divided, and swung slowly out, leaving the channel clear. Piang had severed the ratan thongs.

"Leeeee lelele ouiiiiii!" crashed through the night, and Kali recognized his tribal war-cry.

"Piang! Piang!" he cried. The dark shape, clinging to the drifting boom answered, and Kali rushed toward it. Before the enemy could gather their scattered wits, the whole party was sweeping by, on toward freedom. As Kali bore down on Piang, the boy raised himself to meet the raft. It was coming at a terrific rate, and he feared it would knock him off the boom; measuring the distance, he prepared to leap. On came the raft, Kali leaning far over the side, arms extended to grab the boy. When Kali was only a few yards off, Piang screamed:

"_Boia! boia!_" ("Crocodile! crocodile!") The men on the raft saw the water stir and hurled spear and arrow, but they glanced off the scaly hide. It was a race with death, and what a miserable death for Piang, their idol! The boy grew cold and sick as he waited. Suddenly the raft paused, held in check by Kali's pole. Piang almost fainted. What was his chief doing? In a moment he realized that the quick action had saved his life. The raft swerved, bumped against the crocodile, and came between it and Piang. The next moment Piang was in Kali's arms.

In the light of the gray dawn, Sicto watched these two as they gazed into each other's eyes; they swept triumphantly by, heedless of flying arrows. The radiant fire-tree blooms still clustered around Piang's head, and his sacred charm gleamed in the early light. Firmly believing that spirits had aided Piang in his remarkable feat, Sicto trembled with fear, and, with a last glance at the victorious charm boy, he turned and fled into the jungle.

Wonderingly, Kali Pandapatan and his followers viewed the new cut-off as they floated by. Amazed, they listened to the marvelous tale. Old Dato Kali Pandapatan laid his hands once again on his favorite's head:

"Little brother," he said, "this shall be known as Piang's Cut-off. Some day you will be the greatest dato in Mindanao."

FIFTH ADVENTURE

RIDING THE CATARACT

News that a strange craft had put into Cotabato reached Piang in his mountain home. Hurriedly he gathered his few weapons together and started down the trail. He passed many traders and venders, who had also heard of the boat, and he hastened his steps in his desire to be there early.

"_Un-di?_" ("Whither?") called Sicto as Piang trotted past him.

"To the barrio," replied Piang. Sicto hurried to keep up with him, but Piang had no wish to be in company with the ne'er-do-well Moro boy, and he did not try to conceal his feelings. The natural dignity of the Oriental kept Sicto from displaying his anger at the repulse, but he sullenly slackened his pace and registered a black mark against this haughty Piang.

Piang loved to be alone; his playmates were too noisy, too talkative; he, too, loved to chatter and play games at times, but now in the jungle, as the morning light slowly broke through the damp foliage, he wished to be alone and watch nature unfold to the coming day. It seemed to him that the huge elephant ears lifted their dew-weighted leaves and shook themselves in the gentle wind. The monkeys peeped out at him and continued to make their toilet undisturbed. Other travelers startled the little creatures into watchfulness, but Piang came upon them so silently, so peacefully, that they scarcely noticed him.

There was one spot, half-way down the trail which he wanted to reach alone; there the jungle seemed to part, as if to grant a glimpse of the harbor below. He quickened his stride, and as he passed a party of men one of them called to him, "You will be first to-day, little fleet one." So there was none before him. He was glad, and when he came within sight of the clearing, he rejoiced in his solitude. He wondered if the boat was a vinta from Borneo, or if it was loaded with copra for Japan. There now, when that mist lifted, he would know.

As the beautiful harbor broke upon his sight, Piang paused, holding his breath, for out of the boat, the only one in view, smoke was pouring. It was on fire! But why were the people not trying to save the cargo? A huge black stick standing in the middle of the hull was belching smoke. While he was regretting that he would be too late to assist at the rescue, he was startled by a thin white stream spurting out of the mast-head. Gradually he connected it with the shrill whistle that pierced his ears.

Piang wanted to run back, to warn the others that some strange monster had sailed into their midst; but he saw that his brothers in the barrio were calmly watching the thing, and as it did not seem to hurt them, he took courage and dashed on down the trail into the jungle. All the rest of the journey he strained his ears to catch that shrill voice, which he was now sure came from the boat. As he flew through the silent forest he recalled the tales of the demons that the wise men talked about, and he decided to approach the thing with caution. Finally he stood on the shore, and there before his eyes was a boat that seemed to be alive. It was breathing. But where were its sails? How did it move? Clusters of natives, their fear stilled by curiosity, watched the approach. Breathlessly they waited. It was coming toward the tiny wharf, and just as it settled alongside, a piercing screech from it sent them tumbling over each other in a mad attempt to get away. From the safety of trees and huts they waited. Big men, pale and straight, walked from the boat and beckoned them to descend. Cautiously the more daring ones responded, and soon the whole population was gathered around the visitors.

Curious to see what the strangers were showing the dato, Piang slipped quietly up behind and caught sight of the most beautiful colored cloth he had ever seen. "Bandana," the pale man called it. Piang longed to possess it for his mother; how she would love to wear it for her gala head-dress! The sailor then produced a tiny object that glistened and sparkled in the sun; it was about as large as the palm of Piang's hand and very thin. The Moros were very much excited over it, and when Piang reached up on tip-toes to peer through the crowd, he cried aloud, for there, staring back at him was a boy he had seen somewhere. The little brown face and the piercing black eyes, the long hair twisted in a knot with the ends flying loose, were all strangely familiar. It was--Piang! "Mir-ro," he repeated after the white man when his scattered wits permitted, and the crowd had ceased its merriment at his expense. The Moros were more interested in the knives, tobacco, and strange food that the strangers had brought than in the red bandana handkerchief and the toy mirror; but Piang longed to carry the two things that had caught his eye back to his mother, and he was silently gazing at them when Sicto, attracted by Piang's admiration, picked the mirror up to look at it.

Before Piang realized it, Sicto was negotiating with the owner, offering in trade his brass buyo, or betel-box, used for containing a preparation of the betel pepper, extensively chewed in the East. Why had Piang not brought his brass? He would run and fetch it; but the man would not wait. Just as he saw the things about to pass into the hands of his rival, he remembered his ring. Attracting the attention of the trader, he quickly unscrewed the tiny center and proudly displayed a few glittering flakes; Piang did not know that they were gold dust; but the trader whistled a low note of surprise and called one of his shipmates aside. 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. Heat, thirst, nothing slackened his pace. Arriving at his home, he flew to the lake, and, without a word to any one, jumped into his banco and pushed out into the water. Sweat poured down his face; mosquitos buzzed around his head: but he had no time to build a smudge. He must hurry, or the strange boat would leave the island and take forever the treasures Piang so coveted.

Soon he struck the current, and when he felt the boat settle into it he dropped over the side, holding on to the outriggers, and let the boat pull him through the cool water. He noticed another banco in the distance and wondered what brought another person out on the lake in the heat, but the mosquitos occupied all his attention, and he dived and swam under the water to avoid them, soon forgetting the other boatman.

Which stream had he paddled up before, when he had found the bright sand? He examined the shore carefully as he climbed into the boat. It must be there. Yes, he remembered the orchids in that tree. Cautiously he guided the banco to the mouth of the creek, and he shuddered as he caught sight of a shiny black object slipping into the water. It was a harmless snake, but Piang did not like snakes and he hurried past the spot. Gradually he lost sight of the lake and the sun; overhanging vegetation and fallen trees engulfed him. At times he could not use his paddle, and cautiously avoiding the thorns and poisoned things, he pulled the boat along from above. Soon this little stream would take him into the big river where he had found the pretty sand.

Piang was startled by a sound behind him. Surely he had heard a paddle. But all was silence when he paused to listen. When he came to the river he shouted with delight, for his journey was half over, and there in the sun sparkled his treasure. Taking his gourd from the boat, he filled it with sand and then started the long process of washing it away. Always in the bottom would be left a few of the bright grains. These he poured on a leaf, but he discovered in dismay that they stuck there, and when he tried to brush them off, they sank into the leaf.

While he was pondering on his predicament he heard the chatter of a hablar-bird, and he chuckled to himself. He searched his banco for his bow and arrows, but was astonished to find only the bow. What a misfortune! He must have lost the arrows on the trail. Nothing daunted, little Piang set about his task in another manner. Scattering a handful of parched corn in a clearing, he laid the noose of his rope around it, and taking the end of it in his hand, silently withdrew into the thicket and waited.

Soon the big bird discovered the handy meal and, loudly proclaiming its rights to possession, flapped its way to the earth and lighted right in Piang's noose. The hablar-bird fluttered and chattered as it settled to the task of filling its craw with the good food. Cautiously Piang watched his chance and, with a deft twitch of the rope, secured the noose around the bird's foot. Such screaming and flapping! "Now you be good bird, and I no hurt you," Piang admonished. Catching hold of the creature behind the head, Piang held it firmly and quickly plucked three large feathers from its brilliant plumage. He then set it free and laughed to see it searching for its lost glories.

Piang would have enjoyed watching it, as it scolded him from a high limb, but he could not delay and he set about his task quickly. Cutting off the end of each quill, he scraped it clean inside and washed the pithy part out. He had seen his father prepare a quill in this way for packing tobacco-powder.

When these receptacles were ready to receive the gold-dust, he began washing the sand again; and when he had secured enough to fill all three quills he stuck a piece of green banana on the ends for a stopper. Now he would have the treasures for his mother--that beautiful cloth and the funny, thin thing that played pranks on you when you looked into it.

What was that sound? Surely some one was spying on him. In a flash he remembered the banco on the lake, the other sounds he had heard. Also he remembered that Sicto wanted the same treasures that he coveted. He had been followed by the bully, and now, without his bow and arrows, he was helpless. To gain the lake again, he must pass through that treacherous creek, and he knew that Sicto would think nothing of robbing him and hastening to the village to buy the treasures with Piang's hard-earned bright sand. Somewhere those wicked eyes were watching him from the foliage, but Piang bravely covered his misgivings.

There were two trails to the village; one lay to the west through the lake that he had crossed; the other was straight ahead, down the river. But there were cataracts on this river, and Piang wondered if he could make his way on foot from the head of the first one to the right trail. He decided to take the risk and quickly headed his banco in that direction. As he started down the river, he heard a howl of rage, and glancing back, saw Sicto preparing to follow.

So! It was to be a race! Piang had foiled the bully, and his little heart beat faster as he realized the consequences if Sicto should catch him. Piang had a good start, but the river was so treacherous, the eddies so powerful, that sometimes his boat seemed to stand still or almost turn around when it was caught by the counter-current. How he loved his slim little craft! Whenever possible, it obeyed his wish, and he chuckled to see Sicto struggling with his heavy boat. If he could only reach the first head-water and land on the opposite shore, he would not fear defeat. For who was more fleet-footed than Piang, who more able to ferret his way through the almost impenetrable jungle?

Cautiously he watched the shore; he had been this way only once before, and wondered if he could remember where the trail began at the water's edge. 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. To his horror he found that he could not control the boat; fight as he would, it paid no heed to his struggle, but dashed on toward the waterfall. At first Piang thought he would swim, but realized that he would be swept over just the same. There was only one thing to be done--he must ride the cataract. Sicto was left far behind, clinging to the bank, watching with a sneer the boy going as he thought, to his death. He wondered why Piang was standing up in the banco; surely it would be best to lie flat in the boat and cling to the bottom.