Part 6

Gracefully Piang poised his body for the dive. The feathers were safely thrust into his long hair, and his bolo secured in his belt. With hands outstretched above his head, he waited for the great moment. He knew that if he was skilful he could clear the dangerous waters below the falls and either swim to the shore or reach his banco. Faster, faster went the boat, and his little heart thumped so that he feared it would burst. He tried to remember that this was not such a dangerous feat; others had accomplished it, and he could, if he was careful. The drop was only a few yards, but the danger lay in the shoals at the foot of the falls. What a beautiful sight Piang was, poised on the brink of that foaming cataract, the black jungle for a background! As he felt the banco quiver and twist he prepared for the dive. Finally the boat reached the crest and, with a lurch, shot from under the boy as he sprang far out into space. It seemed an eternity to Piang before he plunged into the waters below; then he sank down, down. The roaring and thundering deafened him, and he wondered if he should ever stop tumbling over in the water. It tossed him, tore from his hands any support he was able to grasp, and finally, after almost depriving him of breath, left him floating on the surface of a calm pool. How delicious the rest seemed! How tired he was! As he lay there on his back, he watched the water pour over the rocks above his head, and marveled that he had accomplished it all so easily.

Gradually Piang regained his composure, and his first thought was for the quills. Yes, they were still safe, and he must hurry. Not fearing Sicto's interference any more, he began to wonder how he should find the trail. Searching the river for his banco, he discovered it caught by some reeds near the shore. It was easy to swim on that side of the river; so he slowly made his way to the overturned canoe, deftly righting it, and in a moment was over the side, searching for the extra paddle he always kept tied in the bottom. Fortunately it had not been torn away, and avoiding the rapids, he hugged the shore and finally resumed his journey down the river.

What a wonderful experience Piang had had! How he would boast of his bravery, Moro fashion, and maybe the wise men would praise him. As he paddled down the river he kept his eyes open for trails; and when he heard the next cataract thundering its menace in the distance, he decided to land and search the jungle for a path. Beaching his banco, he hid it in the undergrowth, and, carefully avoiding the stinging vines, crept into the shadow of the jungle.

The great silence was everywhere, and Piang wondered if he could trust his instinct to lead him aright. The heavy vines obstructed his passage, and he was forced to cut and hew his way through the edge of the forest. Nature does her best to protect the jungle, for always, on the edges, bamboo, and _bajuca_ (pronounced bah-hoo-kah) vie with each other in forming an impenetrable wall; but after the first few yards the obstinacy of the vines seems to relax, their sentinel duty over.

Luckily for Piang, the jungle was well supplied with paths here, and he soon found the one leading down to the barrio. His heart was light, now, and he threw back his head and shouted with glee as he remembered Sicto, pale with terror, lest he too be swept over the cataract. Very quickly his exultation subsided, however, when he realized that Sicto could easily be on this same trail, and he redoubled his efforts as he imagined he heard twigs snapping behind him. What if the boat had already gone. What if its coveted treasures were lost forever?

From his customary trot Piang broke into a run, and, panting and sweating, pushed forward. Soon the trail joined the one he had taken that morning, and in a moment he would come to the clearing where he had first seen the strange boat. Yes, there it was; ugly, cross-looking, without one of those bright-patched sails that decorated all the boats Piang had ever seen. But--was it moving? With a cry, Piang started forward as the white smoke appeared, and the shriek echoed and reechoed through the jungle. Fury, resentment, and determination flashed across his face; with a howl he darted down the trail. There was only a little way to go now, and he would run like the wind. Friends and strangers tried to speak to him as he approached them on the trail, but he brushed them aside impatiently and rushed onward.

With his last bit of breath he stumbled through the barrio, but the boat was steadily moving out to sea. He threw himself on his face and beat the wharf with his clenched fists. All was lost--the beautiful "ban-da-na" for his mother, the "mir-ro," too! An exclamation from one of the men arrested his attention, and he sprang to his feet in an instant. The boat had stopped; and--could he believe his eyes?--the man with the treasures was getting into a small skiff and was beckoning to Piang!

Quickly the boy responded. Making sure that the precious quills were safe, he dived into the sea and struck out toward the approaching boat. When they pulled him over the side, a cheer went up from the Moros on the bank and was answered by another from the strange boat. Eagerly Piang searched the boat for the two objects so dear to his heart, but the trader silently tapped the ring and waited. Slyly the boy considered. Finally he drew forth one quill and offered it to the man. He handed Piang the red calico handkerchief, saying "ban-da-na." Eagerly the boy grabbed it. Guardedly the two contemplated each other. The trader reached into his pocket and produced the toy mirror, surrounded by colored pins; Piang offered to trade for another quill, but the man shook his head. Piang resolutely shook his, and the owner intimated that the trade was over by slipping the mirror back into his pocket. Piang could not stand the suspense, despite his passion for making a good trade, so he thrust the other quill into the stranger's hand, grasped the treasure, and, saluting them in his dignified fashion, slipped over the side and was off.

When Sicto slunk into the hill barrio that night he was anxious to avoid Piang, but our hero was not concerned about him at all. Around the great fire in the center of the village were seated all the important members of the tribe, and Sicto's envy was complete when he saw that Piang's mother was the object of adoration. There she sat, the coveted "ban-da-na" crowning her stately head, and around her neck was suspended the funny thing that laughed back at you. Silently she offered each member of the circle one of the colored pins, and when all were supplied, they fell to the task of picking their teeth, at intervals reverently examining the instrument. When the allotted period had elapsed, Piang's mother again extended the mirror, and when each one had gazed into the depth, the pin was replaced, later to be handed on to a new comer.

Sicto had joined the less fortunate persons who were watching the ceremony from a distance. Only the elect were permitted to approach the circle. From his place of honor Piang glanced loftily in their direction, and as his eyes met Sicto's, his triumph was complete. Under Piang's steady gaze, the bully quailed and, dropping his eyes, shambled off into the darkness.

SIXTH ADVENTURE

THE JUNGLE MENACE

Dato Kali Pandapatan had declared a three days' holiday in honor of Piang's safe return from his long journey to the haunt of Ganassi, the wonder man. That one so young had accomplished the difficult task proved to the tribe conclusively that Piang was indeed the chosen of Allah, the charm boy by divine right. Kali was glad of the opportunity to plunge his people into gaieties, for a mysterious shadow had hovered over the barrio for a week, and he hoped to dispel the effects of a recent disaster by merriment and fiesta. In the night an infant had disappeared from its hammock under the mango-tree and no trace of it had ever been found. The mother, who had been sleeping on the ground near her babe, told a strange story of being awakened by a suffocating pressure on her chest; as she stretched out her hand in the dark, she encountered a cold, clammy mass that moved under her touch. She must have fainted, for when she was able to scream for assistance, her baby was gone, and there were no tracks in the sand. The river was searched, but the crocodile pickets were intact; no monster from the river had broken through the barriers.

The ominous whisper, "Bal-Bal," passed from lip to lip. Only that supernatural jinn could have whisked the infant from their midst; only Bal-Bal, with his demon body, sailing through the air on enormous wings, could have descended upon them so silently, so stealthily. Fearfully the wise men kept watch for the return of Bal-Bal, whose fateful visits were believed to come in pairs.

At first the news of the fiesta failed to rouse the people from the lethargy into which they had sunk, but gradually their pleasure-loving natures responded, and preparations were begun for the three days' play.

"Goody-goody!" exclaimed Papita, the little slave girl, dancing about, clapping her hands. "We are to have the macasla fiesta, Piang. Just think, we are to go to the ocean to-morrow!" Piang's newly acquired dignity would not permit him to respond to Papita's levity, but he secretly rejoiced, too, over the prospects of fun and excitement at the macasla.

Runners were sent into the jungle to procure the all-important 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.