lli.l:l^3fcl: ; ' : :I ; ^:llllffld ' 1 I I ' ' 1 \' THE SON OF PIO ENTV OP CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES THE SON OF PIO BY C. L. CARLSEN AUTHOB OP "THE TAMING OP CAUNGA' NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 681 FIFTH AVENUE COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY Att Rights Reserved printed In the dittoed States of Hmerica CONTENTS CHAPTEB PAGE I A LITTLE MISTAKE 1 II THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE .... 22 III PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 49 IV A CROP OF WHISKERS 84 V THE SPECTER BEJUCO 96 VI RENUNCIATION 113 VII THE CROCODILE'S TOOTH 135 VIII So MANY PRETTY MARKS 146 IX THE MYSTERY OF THE AMERICAN DEVIL . 156 X A SONG BY THE WAYSIDE 163 XI CHARMS OF THE DEVIL 181 XII THAT GOOGOO HIDE o' YOURN .... 205 XIII THE ELDEST OF THE SLAVES 248 XIV THE WAIL OF THE CARABAO 259 2126503 THE SON OF PIO THE SON OF PIO CHAPTER I A LITTLE MISTAKE "Dam', dam', dam' de Filipino, Poc'-marke', cagueyac ladrone! An' beneaz de starry flag Civilizth heem wiz a Krag, An' return us to our own beloved hum." AGAIN and again the clear, sweet voice of a girl floated the words over the river, while a shrill, whistled accompaniment added a snap that was lacking in the singer's effort. The dug- out which served Pacifico and Emiliana as the school-house of their new game, "the American School for Girls," drifted farther and farther from the river-bank. The lad, who played the master part of teacher by virtue of his masculine superiority and of actual experience in school, was so intent upon securing perfect mimicry of such a recitation as had led the negro garrison of the town to dub the local institution of learning, a Howling School, that he failed to observe the imminent prospect of a plunge in the river, or 1 2 THE SON OF PIO the more terrifying danger embodied in the per- son of the approaching ferryman's passenger. Maintaining his graceful poise in the stern of the rocking canoe with the careless clutch of his bare toes on the gunwales, his body swaying in unison with the time-beats of his hand, he thought only of the perfection with which Emiliana mastered the lesson he was teaching her. Now and then the girl glanced over the edge of her banana-leaf "book," dropping her eyes again quickly, lest such inattention call forth a volley of simulated reproof from the diminutive teacher. Despite her apparent docility, Emiliana was aware of the more immediate danger. Nor was the threatened bath alluring. Though undoubt- edly meritorious, a bath is not always appropriate, nor convenient, even to an expert swimmer. But Pacifico had a temper, sometimes. "You will fall?" she finally ventured once more, a pleasing, solicitous plea for his welfare in her voice. "Emiliana!" the boy protested, a staccato snap to each syllable of the name. Eemembering the punishment that Maestro Gerardo, teacher of the local Howling School, would have inflicted for such an interruption, he yelled at the full power of his healthy young lungs, "What say you? Such insolence! The switch shall teach you." And leaning far over her, he vigorously chastised the water with his bejuco a guava switch. The realism in Pacifico 's voice and manner, A LITTLE MISTAKE 3 rather than the resounding smack of the stick upon the surface of the water, suggested to Emil- iana's imagination many tales of Senor Maestro' s art in applying the genuine bejuco to suffering child-flesh; she cowered appropriately, and silent- ly thanked the custom of the Philippines which eliminated the education of girls. With the pretended punishment thoroughly and satisfactorily completed, Pacifico's disappoint- ment over Emiliana's perversity returned. "Why will you do so?" he mourned. "Hard- head! How shall I teach you what to do when the American teacher comes, and opens the School for Girls? Many Holy Days, when Maestro Gerardo had no school and the other boys played, I have worked to learn the beautiful English. Would you be ignorant of what you should know?'* he chided. "And many times you also have heard the Black American soldiers sing the song when they walked about the town of nights. We shall try only once more. I'll be 'Teacher,' and you shall be ' Scholar. ' Now sing, Emiliana, sing the beautiful English." The prompt obedience of the penitent little beauty in a measure restored the lad's hope for a successful game. Nevertheless, an occasional smack of his switch upon the water warned Emili- ana against any relaxation in her enthusiasm. Their concentration upon their make-believe, the noise of their mimicked recitation, deafened the two children to the warning cry, "An Ameri- 4 THE SON OF PIO can, an American,'* raised by the washer-women as they dropped their work and joined in a clam- bering flight up the pathway. Nor did the earnest little students note the excited haste with which the women sought in scattered, hidden retreats on the bank above the sole security from the white man's expected ridicule of their scantily arrayed, statuesque, brown beauty. An amused laugh startled the two children. Glancing around suddenly, Pacifico found a pair of twinkling, cynical, blue eyes focused upon him. But the strong, kindly repose of the American's thin, tanned features belied their humorous mock- ery and won confidence. Boldly, the lad stared at the unexpected intruder. As every one knows, it is rude to stare. Pacif- ico 's surrender to such poor manners exacted its own penalty, or perhaps the swaying canoe was to blame, for with a few wild waves of his arms, a spasmodic tottering, the lad flopped awkwardly into the river, a disgraceful procedure. Back in the dug-out again, Pacifico critically studied the American's slouch campaign-hat, his blue shirt and khaki trousers, his leggings and army boots, all of which blended into an harmonious costume in striking contrast to the conventional Filipino attire, or lack of attire. Half fearful, yet unafraid, too entranced to treat her companion's mishap with the raillery it deserved, the girl crouched in the boat and stared at the white god. A LITTLE MISTAKE 5 "Such beautiful eyes, Pacifico!" she half- whispered, half -exclaimed. "Do you see them? Azull Blue like the heavens!'* "And he has a mustache and beard that burn like a new copper coin!" the boy pointed out. "And such wonderful hair! Yellow like the bamboo, and it shines in the sun like the flower of the Ylang-Ylang tree!" Half -laughing and wholly amused, the American interrupted with the command, " Si-cau, a-bing nga la-la-qui, ma-ca-tao." Thoroughly confused by the white man's use of her native dialect, by the knowledge that he had understood their comments, the girl shrank behind whatever refuge her chum afforded. But Pacifico, heedless of her discomfiture, shouted, "The great American, El Dangeroso! Only that friend of the common people could speak in Ibanag," and rushed to obey the white man's summons, "You, lad, come here." Once ashore, Pacifico stood before El Dangeroso, respectfully, as one could stand before a tried and trusted pro- tector of the oppressed; not cringingly, as one must stand before the domineering Black Ameri- cans who despise all Filipinos and have no pity for the lot of an ignorante. "So you have heard of me?" the white man questioned. "Wen, senor," the lad affirmed. "It is our grand fortune to have El Dangeroso for our 6 THE SON OF PIO American Teacher. And it is my privilege to serve you, senor ?" he in turn enquired. * ' Sure, lad. And your name ? ' ' "I am Pacifico, son of Pio Baliuag, the Ilocano, who is a laborer of the hills, senor. But I know much beautiful English," the boy proudly added, by way of claiming a distinction that might com- pensate somewhat for his lowly caste. The American suppressed a smile. "So I heard," he admitted. "But the nigger in the 'Forty-ninth' who taught you the 'beautiful English * of that song could have done better by you. You don't understand what I mean, lad. And you don't understand why I'll think you a find if your industry equals your enthusiasm. But you do understand how to hold the boat along shore while the boat-man and I get my things off. Let me see you do it." "No, no, senor," Pacifico protested, catching the American 's sleeve and pointing to the rapidly gathering crowd on the bank high above, "you, the illustrious El Dangeroso, must not do the work of an ignorante, where all the people can see. It is not the 'Custom of the Country,' " he explained. "And soon the whole town will be at the river, for the washer-women have fled from their work and have told the news, 'El Dangeroso has come.' See," he insisted, tensing his lithe slight muscles, "I am strong, and I can help the boat-man. I am only an ignorante." Pointing A LITTLE MISTAKE 7 to the girl, he added, "Emiliana can hold the canoe." The American paused and studied the anxious, eager face lifted up to his. Then he smiled. "Your permission, senor?" Pacifico asked. The white man nodded, and said, "Sure, sonny, have it your own way. ' ' Oblivious of the crowd, of everything but the importance of preserving the dignity of his new idol, Pacifico clapped his hands in the most ap- proved fashion of a Eiver-Pilot, and lustily yelled at Emiliana, "Hard head, you! Don't you see that you must hold the dug-out while I help the boat-man. It is the great American, crazy one." And like a good woman, Emiliana hastened to obey the command of the master sex. El Dangeroso leaned against his pony, and pon- dered. The lad's anxiety to save an American from public ridicule for a breach of that custom- lore which decrees that labor contaminates the caste of a PERSONAGE, was impressive. It com- mended the boy. Never in all his years in the Philippines, though he was far-famed as the friend and protector of the oppressed, had Senor El Dangeroso seen a Filipino voluntarily assume such a task in such an unpopular cause. The lad's action suggested the advisability of employ- ing him. Pacifico tugged and strained in anxious rivalry with the experienced boat-man, and quarreled most valorously for the distinction of dropping 8 THE SON OF PIO the last small case of supplies upon the sand. Then, while he worked the kinks out of his arms, he strutted like a principals, and thundered most impressively, "Run to the Tribunal, Emiliana, and notify El Sargento de Policia that the pos- sessions of the American Teacher, the great El Dangeroso, who will live in Tranquilino Carag's wooden house, are at the river-landing. ' ' To the American, he explained, "It is the Custom for the Policia to send a carabao and cart for a Public Official's things." The white man laughed. "And so there is nothing for me to do but learn custombre?" he questioned. Catching the puz- zled, pained, questioning expression in the lad's big, dark eyes, and in his manner an involuntary recoil from the sting of what to a Filipino would seem open ridicule, the American very seriously declared, "It is mighty important for a man to learn the Custom of the Country," and asked, "Can you show me the way to my house?" As the white man followed Pacifico down the lane opened through the crowd at the lad's lusty, important command, he studied the people cas- ually but keenly. In the mob were little, bare- headed, tattered, brown folks of all ages from infancy to youth, some of whom wore a dirty shirt and some a dirty skirt, though most of them were innocent of any clothing. Black-haired, un- kempt, small heads craned forward to see, and black eyes, in restless, half-frightened awe, looked A LITTLE MISTAKE 9 up from besmudged faces at the white god. But among them all there was none whose face showed the intelligence and initiative of the boy before him. That boy pleased the American. When Pacifico had tied the pony to the bamboo rail-fence before the house, and had turned to leave, El Dangeroso stopped him with the ques- tion, "Do you want to be my servant, my muchacho?" Ambitious dreams dazzled the lad's imagina- tion, and the fathomless brown eyes shone with expectancy. For just one wild, ecstatic moment, he danced in glee. Then memory of his caste quelled his exuberance as quickly as it had been aroused. And though a hint of moisture added a brilliant luster to those dark eyes that would smile their disappointment, he slowly shook his head. "The Custom of the Country," he reminded the man. "Americans are like Spaniards; they have gentlemen for their servants. Panfilo, nephew of Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam and a principals boy, who wishes to learn English, ex- pects to become the muchacho of the new Ameri- can Teacher. It is the Custom of the Country, senor," he once more explained to him who was so ignorant of custombre. "Damn custombre/' El Dangeroso swore. "You suit me." And as that was El Dangeroso' s way, the matter was settled. 10 THE SON OF PIO Pacifico spent the day in the hardest work he had ever done ; there was no time for a siesta, no time to smoke, no time for gossip. But as he kept up to the pace which the strenuous white man set for him, and justified the American's selec- tion of a muchacho, Pacifico was elated. Yet later in the evening, when he met Emiliana at the watering-hole, the lad suppressed his exulta- tion, and that he might revel in her sympathy with him for the 'much work' which was expected of the 'muchacho of the American Teacher,' en- larged upon his onerous duties. But finally his exuberance would not be denied, and he spoke of the compensations. "I shall have much American 'chow-chow' to eat, and I shall wear clothes like the American, and learn to speak English," he boasted. Emiliana saw the significance of such facts. She was impressed. "Then some day you will be a principale, is it not so? You will not work, is it not so ? No?" "I will vote when I can speak English," he agreed. "By-and-by you will be Senor Pacifico, and I will bow to you. So," said she, sweeping back imaginary skirts. Despite the gaiety of her manner, there was a certain sad wistfulness about her action, a some- thing that surprised her playmate, almost startled him. But the shadow fled when the boy gravely replied, "And you will be Senora Emiliana, be- A LITTLE MISTAKE 11 canse you are going to be my wife when we get big." The merry laughter lurking in her dark eyes answered him, and swept him into the brighter mood of her rapturous proposal, " Let's make believe. ' ' While they watered their animals, they called each other "Senor" and "Senora," and apolo- gized for little nothings in the most punctilious manner, as though their future distinctions had already been attained. Homeward bound at last, they rode the same somnambulant carabao, shouted at it and thumped its great sides to keep it awake and moving. But at her home, Emili- ana remembered their ' make-believe ' again; she dismounted with the air of a princess, though her castle was only a bamboo shack. Although Pacifico contemptuously designated the incident, " Nothing but a girl's game," it turned his thoughts to all the possibilities that might result from his new position. Strange, fantastic dreams of the future accompanied the lad on the remainder of his homeward ride. By night-time Pacifico had become a 'Person- age' in the town. All the people, even Senor Presidente Don Migual Lasam, came to his home to hear his tales about the American's toilet arti- cles, and medicines, and clothes, but above all, about the 'chow-chow.' The stories aroused the envy of Panfilo, youngest nephew of Senor Lasam, who had regarded service with the American, 12 THE SON OF PIO but without degrading labor, as his prerogative ; and that principale lad implored his uncle to secure for him his gentleman's privilege. The plea resulted in an official order, unpleasant for Pacifico but calculated to prepare the way for Panfilo 's employment by the white teacher. Pacifico followed Senor Presidente and Pan- filo out beneath the stars, threw himself upon the ground, and shed a few disappointed tears over the shattered castle of expectations. Fortunately, his new hopes had not taken a firm grip on his being; the lad's own skepticism concerning the continuation of his luck, in spite of the assurance that had come from the American's utter disre- gard for custowibre, had prevented such a catas- trophe. A little while of grief for the crumbled dreams was enough to reconcile him to what life had taught him was the inevitable outlook for a common ignorante. In answer to the accusation of credulity filed against him by his own experi- ence, he offered the mental defense, "I explained to the very ignorant American," while memory of the day, a great day as days had been, was a consolation. During the next morning, Panfilo Calimag, Senor Presidente Lasam's youngest nephew, called formally upon Senor Maestro Americano. Finding the white man out, Panfilo followed the conventional social usage between equals, and walked in. An hour later, Senor El Dangeroso found a A LITTLE MISTAKE 13 gentleman, a young gentleman, a young Filipino gentleman, standing before the mirror and most intensely interested with the details of a personal toilette. Senor El Dangeroso's comb, hair-brush, shaving-soap, razor, tooth-brush, tooth-wash, nail- file, all had suffered from the young gentleman's experiments. As evidence of their service in per- fecting said toilet, the odor of cocoanut-oil clung to them. At the immediate moment, the clothes- brush was cleaning patches of mud from white canvas slippers. Senor El Dangeroso swore. Panfilo dropped the brush. But his confusion was short-lived. "Buenas, senor," said he in greeting. "Well?" Senor El Dangeroso demanded. The American's cool, sweeping survey of white trousers and black coat led Panfilo to shift his weight from foot to foot. "I have come to be your muchacho, senor," he informed his host. The American stared at the confident young man. "So?" he questioned. "Pacifico Baliuag is my muchacho." Pityingly, Panfilo glanced at the unenlightened man. "My uncle, Senor Don Miguel Lasam, Presi- dente of Badi, thinks it best this way ; it is proper for the illustrious American to have a principale servant, senor," he explained. "I am a princi- 14 THE SON OF PIO pale. I speak Spanish, and will translate your wishes to the people; I will be your interpreter, senor. ' ' El Dangeroso dryly smiled. "Pacifico suits me," he replied in Spanish, "and I fear that that settles it. You see, I do not need an interpreter." The American's facility in the use of the language disconcerted Panfilo, even filled him with a dubious uncertainty. But the lad's habit- ual assurance quickly restored his poise. "Pardon, senor! It seemed best to my uncle, Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam, that Pacifico stay home," he pointedly suggested in correction of any misapprehension that might still delude the inexperienced American. "But perhaps the il- lustrious Senor El Dangeroso will wish two serv- ants, a gentleman companion to interpret for him and a laborer to work? My uncle, Senor Presi- dente Don Miguel Lasam, will arrange it for you. ' ' "With the matter thus apparently settled to Pan- filo 's satisfaction, he remembered the amenities required by * ' Custom, ' ' and again turned toward the make-shift bureau. Picking up the largest photograph on the transformed box, he admired it, with long-drawn breaths, with many grunts of approval, with many a muttered, "Jesu!" In- dicating the subject of his comment with the uncut, twisted nail of his little finger, he asked, "Your A LITTLE MISTAKE 15 concubine in the United States?" and gushed a most commendatory, "Very desirable!" The American was ignorant of the " Custom": he misunderstood. Panfilo dropped the picture, hurriedly, and tried to dodge the swooping advance of the angry white man. But the wiry arms gathered in their tight embrace all the ruffled finery of the of- fender's person, twisting fingers twined in the cloth of the lad's immaculate, black coat-collar and almost strangled the wearer, while a strong hand gripped the proper portion of the white trousers. A jerky heave lifted the young Filipino gentleman into the air. Another propelled him, feet first, out through a convenient window. Panfilo landed in the midst of a group of curious children, and sprawled into the mud of a carabao- wallow. The same envious youngsters who had followed a boastful Panfilo to the teacher's home, and should have formed an admiring Guard of Honor after his triumph in displacing the upstart, Pacifico, now formed a taunting, jeering escort for his crest-fallen retreat. They halted only when the whimpering principals met his uncle, Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam. Though the crowd of sneering children scattered in fright at sight of the great man, Senor Lasam saw the mockers, and surmised that Panfilo had suffered some terrible humiliation. Senor Lasam 's corpulency shook with sup- pressed rage. 16 THE SON OF PIO But when Panfilo explained ! ''So!" Senor Lasam puffed. "Unh," he wheezed. "So. The 'Pig' of an American has given an ignorante the preference over my nephew ! And publicly, too ! But he shall learn ! ' ' the angry man stormed, "that 'Pig' of an Ameri- can!" Senor Lasam 's emotions almost choked him. "I observed every courtesy, even to admiring his taste in choosing a 'woman,' " Panfilo sniffed in concluding the tale of his wrongs. "It must have been due to the crazy anger that afflicts the American 'Pigs,' " he suggested, lest his uncle suspect that some fault of his had brought the disgrace upon him, and should punish him for the affront thus brought upon their family prestige. But Senor Lasam 's wrathful resentment was far beyond the point where he cared for nice dis- tinctions in placing the responsibility. There was the very real fact of the insult. "Jesu, Santa Maria, y Josep!" he roared. The mighty man's volcanic anger comforted Panfilo. It promised him security from personal punishment. Yet, since past experiences had taught him the fickleness of his uncle's more tem- pestuous moods, Panfilo deemed it wise to direct Senor Lasam 's desire for vengeance toward some other person who could be punished. "The American Pig has gone for Pacifico," the lad added by way of an apt irritant that also might bring about a pleasing retaliation. A LITTLE MISTAKE 17 Senor Lasam spent the fury of his rage in mut- tering many and varied imprecations upon Paci- fico's "hard-head." But presently he trudged belligerently on his way to the home of his peon, Juan Danga. Now, mere chance had decided Senor Lasam to begin on this particular day the collection of the interest due upon his many crop-mortgages. Likewise, mere chance determined it that Juan Danga, father of Pacifico's playmate, Emiliana, should b the first debtor visited after Senor Lasam had heard of the indignity heaped upon him through the person of his nephew. Fortunately for Juan Danga, he had the money ready. But unfortunately, Emiliana happened to enter the house during the business transaction. As her appearance suggested Pacifico, Senor Lasam scowled at her. But at no time, not even when he was consciously endeavoring to cow an- other with threatening glares, could Senor Lasam resist the appeal of feminine beauty, of which the girl had her fair share. Senor Lasam was im- pressed by her, so impressed in fact that he re- membered all he had recently heard about her many attractions, remembered, too, his eldest concubine 's importunities that he present this girl to Pedro Tallud, the woman's son, as a gift. Thus far, Senor President had slightingly ig- nored the request. But his present mood, the day's unpleasant events, gave that request a new significance ; it could be made the means of retal- 18 THE SON OF PIO iation upon Pacifico. Senor Presidente demanded her for Pedro's mistress. Under any circumstance, Juan would have re- fused, but timorously. As he had just paid his immediate debt, Juan refused, positively, and in spite of all of Senor Lasam's threats, though the prospects they presented made Juan tremble and plead for pardon, the ignorante father persisted in his refusal. Incensed, the Master promised prompt ven- geance. "Do you think the senility of second childhood has already made it safe for an ignorante to defy my power in my own town?" he sneered, as he turned away from the door. "So? So? You would pile your insult upon top of the American 'Pig's/ would you? Jesu! But you shall quick- ly learn. ' ' Juan licked his lips, but his head shook a final refusal. That night the Municipality's Gray Pony died of the "Pest." Somehow, the carcass was de- posited in Juan 's yard, where a Municipal Police- man found it next morning. Juan was arrested and brought before Senor Lasam. As Juan could give no explanation, and only be- came more and more terrified at Senor Lasam's sneering demands for one, Senor Presidente took the matter under consideration. He pondered mightily upon the case. A LITTLE MISTAKE 19 "Juan must have stolen it ; he must have ridden it to death,'* he finally decided. And when the ignorante protested his innocence and begged for mercy, Senor Lasam's eyes reproached the cul- prit. "My heart is very sad," Senor Presidente assured Juan. "I feel keenly the disgrace of having such an unworthy debtor." Further pro- tests received but a judicious shake of the head, and the sentence, "Pedro Tallud will administer fifty lashes to-morrow afternoon." When the people heard of the incident, they laughed, and shrugged their shoulders. "Ten lashes will win Juan's consent to any- thing. Another five, and he will beg Senor Presi- dente to accept as a gift whatever Pedro wants. At least, Pedro is a master with the lash, and we shall have a great spectacle," summarized their gossip. Next morning, Pacifico wandered aimlessly about his employer's house, mechanically per- forming his chores, or repeating the motions con- nected with them for the sake of the relief to be found in action without thought. He did not cry over the things which his Filipino reason told him were Inevitable Fate; his hot eyes burned away his tears, while strange, gripping bonds about his throat stifled his moans. In the early afternoon, he rolled his head in a blanket and hid himself in his room, lest Juan's shrieks of pain should drive him mad with the knowledge of the price the tortured father might pay for re- 20 THE SON OF PIO lease. But when that terrible cry, a great agon- ized scream, flooded the silence, it pierced through the deadening weight of the cloth, and reached the lad's ears, undulled. El D anger os o sprang from a chair, which clat- tered on the floor and seemed to echo and reecho the agonized cry. He shook the lad, as though to awaken him, and pulled the blanket from the head of him who seemed asleep. Very quietly, the man asked, "What was that!" Pacifico told him. El Dangeroso drew his terrible "boom-boom," and picked up his bejuco, the whip with the heart of steel and the crossed, deer-thong binding. He spoke but the one word, "Come." Together they raced for the plaza, where El Dangeroso plowed his way through the mob and sprang upon the bamboo band-stand before any one realized that he was near. He was very cool; so very, very cool. "This is a little mistake," he drawled in the Ibanag dialect. "You have forgotten that I am El Dangeroso, he that flogs bad presidentes. " Senor Lasam quailed before the American's wrathful sneer. "It is the Law," he quavered. Senor El Dangeroso laughed, the harsh laugh of righteous anger well controlled. Then he un- bound Juan and handed the laborer his own per- fect bejuco. A LITTLE MISTAKE 21 "The LAW?" he questioned. "This is the LAW," he answered. A trip dropped Senor Lasam on his porcinine belly, while a twist of the wrist sprawled Pedro Tallud beside his master. The "boom-boom" en- forced submission. At Juan's head the terrible weapon compelled that ignorante to inflict upon both Pedro Tallud and Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam five lashes, the number of the sen- tence which Juan had endured. After the punishment had been duly and properly administered, El Dangeroso turned to the assemblage, which had watched, in terrified silence, the utter, public humiliation of their Ty- rant. Senor El Dangeroso disapproved of such serious countenances; they accused him of spoil- ing the day's amusement. He stepped back be- hind Senor Lasam. Not to disappoint the popu- lace, which had gathered to view a "spectacle" and to laugh, Senor El Dangeroso snapped his whip in the neighborhood of Senor Presidente 's most sensitive feet. So Senor Presidente danced and grunted, and danced and puffed, and danced again, until every- body was happy and tired. CHAPTER II THE DIGNITY OF A PEBSONAGE THE manner in which Senor El Dangeroso personally introduced himself to Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam, before even the barest amenities of good social usage had been observed between them, provided the people of Badi with a sensational topic for gossip, when Senor Presidente's friends were not present. And the tale was whispered from end to end of the North Provinces, whispered with many a "hish" and "sh," lest Senor Lasam seek venge- ance upon the tale-bearer for thus heaping ridicule upon so illustrious a man. Though less drastic than the public floggings formerly meted out to principale agitators by the Spanish Government, as illustrations of the danger in disloyalty to Spain, even mild by comparison, this punish- ment was stranger, more terrifying, more weird than any chastisement ever before endured by a principale of Badi. In Spanish times, the victims of Spam's retaliations were honored for their martyrdom. But such defiance of "Custom" as was embodied in visiting retribution upon a prin- cipale for an injustice done to an ignorante sur- 22 THE DIGNITY OP A PERSONAGE 23 passed anything recounted in all the local Myths of Spanish Times; it sentenced Senor Lasam to sneers, and laughter, and ridicule, unless The people waited patiently for a vengeance that should square the account, waiting patiently, and interestedly, because vengeance concerned, not them, but the American, and Juan Danga, and Pacifico. Pacifico was intensely interested in all the calamities that might happen as* a result of the episode, but he was not patient in awaiting the fulfillment of his anticipations. He trembled through one whole day of terrified expectancy. Nor was his terror allayed by the fact that the mode of Senor Lasam 's humiliation confirmed even the wildest rumors of Senor El Dangeroso's deeds in other towns. Suppose that the white man's defense of ignorantes had always met with success in the past. What guarantee did that fact give against Senor Lasam 's certain, ingenious vengeance upon El Dangeroso, upon Emiliana, upon the lad's own small person? Perhaps it meant that El Da.igeroso WAS "The Dangerous" even to the mighty Senor Lasam. But what other principale, or presidents, could be so terri- ble, so sinister in the method of his retaliations, so awful in his anger, as Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam of Badi! Pacifico knew Senor Lasam. Again and again, he searched his employer's face for some sign of a tremor. But the American was always tran- 24 THE SON OF PIO quil, as unconcerned over the retributions that one might expect to follow the event as Pacifico would have been had Pacifico suffered and danced in place of Senor Lasam and at Senor Lasam's di- rections. When a second nightfall came without the ex- pected having happened, Pacifico was both puz- zled and doubtful. When next morning, Panfilo brought the American gift of chicken and eggs, with the compliments of his uncle, Pacifico 's doubts were dispelled. Pacifico could understand such gifts under such circumstances; to the wise, they signified anxiety to propitiate him whose power was dangerous to the bad of heart. Such weakness was contemptible. Even a Paci- fico could despise the Tyrant of Badi for such a craven exhibition of fear, for Pacifico, while the servant of the American, was assured of his own safety. With the terrifying problem so promptly and satisfactorily settled, Pacifico turned his attention to the many marvels connected with his new sta- tion in life. By a reasonable assumption, numer- ous perquisites belonged to the position of "the muclwcho of the Amercan Teacher," among which the most enticing was the opportunity for testing and trying the strange contents of El Danger oso 's box cupboards regular mines of wonders. A case of medicines, magical in their power as com- mon report had it, especially fascinated Pacifico. Knowledge of their stimulating effect gave the THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE 25 Americans their physical superiority over Fili- pinos, he believed. With a feeling akin to awe, Pacifico conducted a week-long series of experi- ments, with himself and the pigs as subjects. In a measure, the results disappointed him; the much praised drugs produced no unusual sensa- tion, nor did they fill him with the new and vitally compelling energy of an American, nor did more generous doses of the medicines have any of the expected effects on the pigs. Pacifico concluded that the unsatisfactory results arose from his failure to discover the right charm. A yellow powder from a can with a gaudy yel- low label provided the material for Pacifico 's final independent investigation. Believing in generous proportions of whatever he used, Pacifico mixed with water approximately one half the contents of the tin. The method of applying the paste to the chest was no mystery to the lad ; he had seen El Dangeroso spread it on a cloth. This charm proved noticeably effective, but not as he had de- sired. Next morning, Pacifico felt indisposed. Although there was a certain pleasure in being sick, when one had a real American canvas-bed to be sick in, he was frightened. In his appeal to El Dangeroso, he specifically indicated his chest in making his complaint. "I have great pain here, senor," he quavered. At first the white man was suspicious. Much past experience during the period of his full faith in Filipino plaints, had taught him that curiosity 26 THE SON OF PIO concerning American drugs, and particularly about whisky, was generally the ailment produc- tive of the " great pain," for otherwise nothing less than a modern miracle could explain the in- stantaneous cures effected by such agents as salts, and quinine and whisky. El Dangeroso had no objection to satisfying the curiosity of a small boy whose faults were just the faults of children the world over, provided the means of gratifying it were harmless, but he preferred to grant the boon on an honest understanding that would not make himself appear the victim of guile. He realized that he must carefully guard against de- ceit in any form, if he were to combat successfully that too frequent Filipino fault. "I suppose you really mean that you would like to try the medicines ?" he asked. "I've won- dered that you didn't want to." But the evident sincerity of the lad's denial of such a desire, his genuine suffering, convinced El Dangeroso. Investigation of the designated portion of Pacifico's anatomy revealed a great blotch of blue discoloration extending across the sufferer's whole chest. And under his arms! And such blotches were symptoms of ? The white man recoiled from the sufferer. The bu- bonic plague ! The Black Death ! Chance directed his eyes toward the Mustard Can. Its half -closed lid stirred another suspicion. He picked it up, opened it THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE 27 "Not that, senor, not that class of medicine," Pacifico implored. "Not this time," El Dangeroso gasped be- tween roars of laughter, a laughter more expres- sive of his relief from a mental strain than of merriment. * ' But ' ' Pacifico confessed hurriedly, yet hesitantly; hesitantly, because he knew with what means his father, Pio, would have punished his fault, and hurriedly, that his honesty might win a measure of leniency. The hesitancy was further war- ranted by the fact that Pacifico had seen El Dan- geroso sharpen a razor on a broad band of leather, which, the lad imagined, might well serve the pur- poses of a switch ; and the hurry by the fact that much depends upon the earnestness of the chas- tiser, as all boys know. To Pacifico 's great joy, he received, not an application of razor-strop, but a glorious promise, one that comforted him through his illness and overshadowed his fears for the welfare of the pigs, the permission to try freely anything he could find in the shack, after asking his employer's consent. Although Pacifico religiously observed the single restriction, he took complete advantage of El Dangeroso 1 's kindness, and therefore rapidly became ' * an Authority on Things American. ' ' He found that the element of experience, that the simple words, "I have tried it," were a "Magic" which increased both the envy and the deferential attitude of his friends and of the many curious 28 THE SON OF PIO townsmen who questioned him. In fact, people very shortly began to treat him like a "Person- age." Final realization of that fact presented new problems. First in importance was the difficulty of determining whether or not he was a "Per- sonage," as he suspected. Then the distinction of being a "Personage" entails the duty of sus- taining the part, and certain observances in the manner of appearing in public. As every one knows, clothes that would become a young "Per- sonage," like Panfilo, would seem ridiculous on a youngster like well? of Pacifico's former caste. Pacifico knew that an appearance in pub- lic in the garb of a " Personage ' ' would settle all doubts concerning his status. He might have de- ferred the adoption of a new street attire until the promised American outfit arrived from Manila. But that would have meant delay in test- ing his belief, and he was impatient to know, and the materials were at hand. Certainly, the "blue shirt" which El Danger oso had that morning thrown into the wash pile, would make an appropriate substitute for the calico shirt of daily wear. Nor would it be wanted imme- diately. A pair of heavy, brown army shoes, res- cued from the rubbish fire and securely hidden under the house, were leather shoes, and could be worn, though they might prove less comfort- able than bare feet. For trousers, and white trousers at that, there was the pair which El THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE 29 Dangeroso had tossed to his servant on their first day together, with the remark, "You had better wear these around the house, boy, until that American outfit comes from Manila. They will be a bit roomy for you, and if you don't want to wear them outside of the house, you don't need to. But should American visitors come, I can't have you running around here in that pant-less dignity." Pacifico surveyed those trousers. True, they were somewhat baggy, even big, though El Dan- geroso was a small man for an American, and it was difficult to keep them where they belonged on his person. And yet, upon mature considera- tion, with all their faults, Pacifico rather approved of those pants. The prevalent Filipino styles in pants favored a certain degree of bagginess Panfilo's were the latest extreme of the fashion. With the extra length of bamboo shoe-strings wound about his ankles and restraining the lower extremities of the trousers, with the "blue shirt" outside and safely hiding the extreme height of the waist-band, with his ears filling out the sur- plus space in an army campaign-hat, the chance attire left nothing to be desired, despite El Dan- geroso's slight regard for the trousers. Pacifico paraded the length of the main road right in the middle of it and smoked a real, fac- tory-made cigar borrowed from El Dangeroso's stock. All the people came to the openings in the outer walls of their shacks, and deferen- 30 THE SON OF PIO tially greeted "the muchacho of the American Teacher." Only Panfilo sneered, and his slurs could very properly be credited to envy. Emili- ana frankly admired her playmate's new glory. And upon Pacifico 's return to the house, El Dangeroso smiled his approval, and overlooked the liberties which had been taken with his shirt and hat. So Pacifico knew that "the muchacho of the American Teacher " WAS a "Personage." For a full half hour, he enjoyed his pleasurable exaltation to the utmost. Nevertheless, when he had divested himself of his finery, he sighed in relief; his normal, pant-less estate was so much more comfortable. He tossed the "blue shirt" back upon the pile of dirty clothes. That pile of prospective wash- ing was suggestive. It reminded Pacifico of a duty of "the muchacho of the American Teacher," a duty which scarcely became his new distinction. Slowly a frown developed on his face, and fixed itself there. Who ever heard of a "Personage" washing clothes? at the river! and in public! "Woman's work!" he sneered to himself. He had no objection to the exertion involved in spreading the clothes on a rock and flaying them with, the flat paddle, nor to the moist discomfort of squatting in the river. There would be no novelty in such incidentals to the labor; he had often washed clothes for his mother. But that had been when he was simply, "Pacifico, son of Pio Baliuag, who was nothing but a laborer of THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE 31 the Mils, a common ignorcmte." With a " Per- sonage" he did not as yet say, "Principale," even in thought with a " Personage," it was dif- ferent; Panfilo never washed clothes in the river; and a "Personage," like "the muchaclio of the American Teacher," also had a certain Dignity to maintain. Washing clothes mere woman's work! lacked every element of Dignity. But there were the clothes ! And wash-day came on Monday! Pacifico pondered long over the situation, but not for three days did a scheme for evading the impending duty suggest itself. Then it came, and in this wise. Playing "house" was Emiliana's favorite di- version. She always wanted to play "house," as might be expected of a woman. Sometimes she even made a game out of real work! So Pacifico speculated. Now, with real clothes, American clothes for the "Senora" of the game to wash in the real river, where all the town washer-women gathered to work, Emiliana cer- tainly ought to find a new zest in the "make- believe." For himself, as the "Senor," Pacifico could imagine many realistic touches. Another "store" cigar! El Dangeroso would never miss it. Possibly a chew of buja! the Chino, Ah Sam, was sometimes generous. And squatted among the loungers on the bank above, Pacifico was sure that he ;could give a perfect imitation of the critical witticisms, and personalities, and jests of 32 THE SON OF PIO the men. Emiliana would sustain her part in retort and sally, for she always excelled one's ex- pectations. And there was nothing belittling to her a woman in washing clothes in the river! But sometimes Emiliana was perverse. There was enough of uncertainty in the prospect to pro- vide Pacifico with many tantalizing moments in the next few days. On Monday morning, just as soon as Emiliana appeared, Pacifico drove the rest of the loitering children out of the yard. Such a marked exhibi- tion of his preference for her company flattered Emiliana ; undoubtedly, he had some new wonder to relate that would be their secret. 1 1 We shall play ' house, ' " he proposed. * ' Many things, we can " Emiliana promptly interrupted; the opportu- nities were instantly revealed to her mind. "Muy bien!" she exclaimed. "That far win- dow of the maestro' s house shall be a tienda, an American store, in the United States," she en- thused, her excitement brooking no interruption from him. "And the porch shall be the street, is it not sol No? And we will walk past, and see all the things, and you we shall play that you have been in the United States you will tell me about the wonderful things and buy me something, is it not so f And and, ' ' she paused for breath, "come. We shall begin." Since Emiliana scampered up the stairs without waiting for a reply, there was no alternative but THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE 33 to follow her. She leaned over the window-sill, and gazed in rapt fascination at the profusion of wondrous American foods meats and vegetables and fruits in tins, like guava jelly, at the stacked cans of salmon and sardines. Emiliana had seen salmon, red like the blossoms of the Fire-tree, she had even sniffed its savory odor. But she had never tasted it. A wistful desire, a little envy of her playmate's good fortune, added a brilliancy to the luster of her fathomless, dark eyes. She faced the uneasy lad at her side. "Tell me about them, about everything," she commanded. Pacifico did, his imagination supplying a wealth of detail concerning whatever articles he had as yet had no experience with. ' * Soon you shall taste them all, ' ' he promised ; "each day I shall save for you some of mine." For just an instant, Emiliana 's eyes thanked Pacifico. Then those sparkling eyes, sweeping back to the fascinating wonders, lighted upon a cupboard box containing three green lumps, each one an exact duplicate of the other. Emiliana pointed them out. "I wish to hear about those," she demanded. Pacifico hesitated. He knew Emiliana, and Emiliana was no fool; should the idea occur to her, she would appreciate the facility with which he, as the generous "Senor" of the game, could "buy" his "Senora" one of those attractive green things, just by reaching out a hand and appro- 34 THE SON OF PIO priating one, although El Dangeroso was in the next room writing a letter. In truth, as Pacifico did not know what they were and had learned to respect the surprising and occasionally discon- certing properties of unknown Things American, he preferred not to see them, and tried to propi- tiate her with information about more familiar articles safely out of reach. Emiliana definitely specified the location of the attractions. "Like the cakes of chocolate that the people buy at the entrance to the cock-pit, only green of color," she added, for a final descriptive clue. Pacifico was disgusted with himself. If he had only found those green things at some previous time and had asked El Dangeroso about them, it would not now be necessary to reveal his gross ignorance, to admit that he knew nothing about them. But the word, chocolate, as she had used it, was suggestive of an explanation that might hide his shameful ignorance, and at the same time punish her for thus bringing him to the brink of humiliation. "Oh, the ' dulce Americana'!" he exclaimed, simulating the manner of sudden enlightenment. " 'American sweets' have a far more delicious flavor than the cakes of chocolate/' he informed her. Emiliana 's covetous eyes glanced excitedly up into the lad's. Then, remembering the game which made it Pacifico 's duty to grant her re- THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE 35 quest, she assumed toward him all the deference which a wife should pay her "lord and master.'* "Senor Pacifico, have the kindness to buy for me an 'American sweet/ '' she requested. Pacifico grunted a dubious, "Unh." His hesitancy provoked an imperious command. "Buy, senor or I go for play with Ardelardo," she threatened. Usually, Pacifico would have promptly suc- cumbed. But in the present case, several con- siderations deterred him from an immediate sur- render. Unfortunately, certain frequently re- peated boasts regarding the liberties granted "the muchacho of the American Teacher" by El Dan- geroso, precluded even the tender of the best ex- cuse for a refusal, the prospect of a thrashing. El Dangeroso saved the situation. He moved, and Emiliana led the flight. But the solution of the predicament was only deferred. Emiliana liked "sweets," especially "American sweets," and nothing but that green "American sweet" would satisfy her or persuade her to continue the game. And the hour for be- ginning with the "woman's work" was fast ap- proaching. On the other hand, there was the cer- tainty of the thrashing. Pacifico weighed the two alternatives. Unquestionably, razor-strop a band of leather too broad to hurt much though one had to dance convincingly and perform many antics to satisfy El Dangeroso's wrath with the disastrous results, razor-strop, when applied in 36 THE SON OF PIO the privacy of the kitchen, was far preferable to the humiliation of publicly washing clothes in the river. Besides even when Pacifico had ignored many admonitions on the ground that a command not preceded by a flogging was unworthy of re- spect, and El Dangeroso had finally added the essential part of a real order worthy of obedience, the American hit the table legs at least as often as Pacifico 's legs, nor did he seem to know the difference as long as the injunction under imme- diate discussion received proper consideration thereafter. Pacifico pilfered a green "dulce Americcma." There was no denying its luscious appearance, and Pacifico prepared to taste. Emiliana stamped her foot. "Senor," she reproved. " First, for me." Pacifico surrendered the confection into her eager little hands, and hovered excitedly about her, while she, a mischievous, teasing, anticipa- tory sparkle in her eyes, dallied with the candy and enjoyed in full meature her gustatory expec- tations. But at last, the small lady yielded to his urgent entreaties, yielded to her own desire. . . . Very daintily, she nibbled at the "sweet," nibbled that the enjoyment might be prolonged. If Pacifico 's greedy eyes had not followed the confection in her hand with such avidity, he might have observed the slight but positive expression of disgust that spread over her face. He took a big bite, a big, big bite; and twisted his face THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE 37 awry, and spat and spat, and sputtered " 'Dulce Americana' tastes very much like soap." Indignation, even rage at the insult thus heaped upon her, blinded the little brown beauty to the ludicrous spectacle of Pacifico's frothy efforts to dispose of the bad taste in his mouth. "I have great anger with you," she stormed. 4 'You might have exposed me to public ridicule with your joke. But I shall tell everybody about you," she promised, unyielding resentment in the snap of each word. Though Pacifico begged, as best he could with all his sputtering, and explained, and protested his innocence, though he confessed his utter, ab- ject, shameful ignorance, though he described with humiliating particularity the details of the application of the razor-strop that would surely punish him for his fault, Emiliana remained ob- durate. She went to play with Ardelardo. Dejectedly, Pacifico watched her disappear. Even her loudly-voiced comments on the sin of pilfering soap failed to arouse him from his gloom, to incite him into a natural, noisy, belliger- ent exchange of threats and recriminations. Pa- cifico's apparent forbearance, even fortitude in the face of probable disaster in the form of un- dignified kitchen antics with the aid of the razor- strop, was not due to philosophical speculation upon the unreasonable whims of women, but to the washing. Such an indignity to impose upon a " Personage"! Visions of it grew to mountain- 38 THE SON OF PIO ous proportions that darkened his whole outlook npon life. El Dangeroso called. Laboriously, Pacifico climbed the stairs, and lagged across the porch. Only then did he give the prospective interview with the razor-strop any real consideration. But El Dangeroso was in an extremely agree- able frame of mind. He laughed good-naturedly, helped his servant tie up the bundle of clothes, and seemed entirely ignorant of the disturbance that Emiliana had raised. Evidently, he had failed to hear her noisy remarks about the pil- fered soap. Pacifico sighed a comfortable relief, and went after a piece of sensible soap, a long, narrow piece of soap that was in such form as soap ought to be in. El Dangeroso' s voice halted him. "I guess you had better use the soap you threw to the pigs, kid," he drawled, "and save the washing soap for another time." Pacifico fidgeted, and hung his head, as one who expects a summons to the kitchen may well do. El Dangeroso smiled, but gave his words a tone that ought to have reassured the culprit. " Might as well, kid," he continued. "Medi- cated soap is pretty expensive for washing, but there is no use in wasting it. And if the pigs ate it, like they did some of the medicines, it wouldn't THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE 39 be good for them. I would have told you that, if you had asked me, as you promised you would." Pacifico wilted. Intuitively, he suspected the American of a subtle reasoning that did not ex- ist. The same hint at Pacifico 's previous esca- pades, if made by a principale, like Panfilo, would have meant that the pigs had sense enough to know what was good for them, and that Pacifico didn't. It seemed to the lad that the American had implied that most insulting of Filipino sneers: "Crazier than a pig!" The mental refrain, "Pig, Pig," accompanied the patter of his bare feet on the ground. The word chimed so loudly that he expected to hear it among the volley of taunts from the group of children with whom Emiliana was playing. He shrank into the smallest compass that his body would allow, and scurried past. But only a chorused, "Buenas, Pacifico,'* greeted him. And a block beyond, SHE overtook him. "I have told to nobody about the soap," she panted, "and I did not hear you howl like you said you would," she blurted out. Pacifico dropped his bundle. "You listened?" he asked, suspiciously. As she nodded an assent, Pacifico knew that he had been forgiven, and that Emiliana was sorry that she had yelled things for El Dangeroso to hear, and that she was glad he had not been thrashed. He felt better. 40 THE SON OF PIO "What have you?" she asked, eying the bun- dle. "The American's clothes." "And if I go to the river with you, you will tell me what each kind is for?" she asked. Startled at the possibility suggested by her ex- citement, he glanced at her. She was intensely curious, satisfactorily curious! But how far would curiosity plus her penitence and forgive- ness carry her toward the solution that Pacifico hopefully anticipated ? "Will you tell me about them?" she persisted. Pacifico believed that he was crafty, and un- concerned. "Possible. Sometime, when we play house," he suggested. Emiliana laughed, a laugh in which there was more of delight over some little joke of her own than there was of mere amusement. "And you would be a Senor Americano, and tell your Senora Filipino, for what each garment was, and show her how El Americano wears his clothes?" she continued. Pacifico hesitated. Her proposal left too much to implication. Perhaps Emiliana would expect the Senor Americano to do a "woman's work." Americans often degraded themselves with such labor; El Dangeroso cooked for Pacifico as well as himself! and Pacifico had told Emiliana so! Besides, he was nettled at her ridicule ; there was nothing to laugh at. THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE 41 " While the Senora washed?" she hinted. Pacifico promptly, vigorously nodded his head, and forgave her for her previous amusement. Emiliana did not explain to herself why she had offered, on her own initiative, to do for him his distasteful " woman's work." Nor did she try. She just " understood" his predicament, because she was Emiliana, and Pacifico was Paci- fico, to be teased, to be urged into scrapes and aided in escaping their consequences, to be chummed with, and when real need arose, to be helped. In the present emergency, she blamed the American, his ignorance of " Custom"; she was angry at him for imposing a disgraceful duty upon a "Personage." She could enjoy thwarting LIs will as much as she had enjoyed teasing Pacifico. The bundle already on Emiliana 's head, the soap in her hand, convinced Pacifico of her serious intentions. His spirits, therefore, bounded high. In imagination, he saw himself very much the man in playing the conventional part of a man on washday. When Emiliana turned off on a cross lane to the river, he surmised that she had plans of her own not in harmony with his ; he objected. "The Senora should carry the clothes to the regular washing place where all the women of the town gather to do their work," he reminded her. Emiliana promptly dumped the bundle on the ground. Ceremoniously, she bowed. 42 THE SON OF PIO "Pardon, senor. The senora of an American will not wash clothes in a public place," she de- clared. "And never have you seen an American senor squatting on the bank among the ig or antes, or joking like them?" She was obdurate in the matter. She was will- ing to wash clothes in a secluded spot, but abso- lutely refused to mingle with the crowd at the generally frequented and more convenient place. Though Pacifico would have preferred the pub- licity, he was unwilling to risk the loss of what he had gained. He accepted her modification. El Dangeroso waited until long after Pacifico should have returned before he started to hunt for his muchacho. Finally, in a secluded spot, he came upon the lad and his companion. What the white man discovered did not please him. At the moment, the greater portion of Pacifico 's anatomy was hidden inside of El Dangeroso's pajamas, with just enough of the lad on the out- side for purposes of discourse and for gesticula- tion in illustration of his remarks upon the social amenities limiting their use to * * official functions. ' ' It was a satisfactory explanation, one that might reasonably account for their gay colors, as well as for the fact that Pacifico had never seen his employer wear them. "Yes," the lad replied in answer to an inquiry, "Senor El Dangeroso wore this kind of pants when he received Senor American Provencial Treasurer on the last Official Visit " THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE 43 Just then, Pacifico gasped. Some monster, perhaps a crocodile, had clasped his squirming body in its tight embrace. Pacifico could barely turn his head, and when he did succeed in doing so, his startled eyes met his employer's face, a serious face, an enigmatical face, and therefore terrifying. Pacifico hurried precipitately down the path to the river's edge. El Dangerojo's firm grip on the ''pants" accounted for such unseemly haste. "Pants" and boy squatted vigorously, splashily, in the water. "Right here we are going to have a lesson in the American 'Custom' of being reliable, and in doing what is our work, and in not imposing on a girl," the man declared; "and I hope you will be a sensible kid, so that we wont have to make a googoo lesson out of it." The speechless, trance-like expression of sur- prise on the culprit's face made an irresistible appeal to Emiliana's sense of the ludicrous. Her merry laughter greeted the spectacle. Pacifico heard. Such heartless ridicule of his predicament, and from his accomplice, stung his sensitive pride even more than had either the in- dignity of being made to appear foolish before her, or the humiliation of getting caught in a fault. He forget the danger in tempting the American to resort to such a punishment as his father, Pio, would have meted out ; he defied the mighty El Dangeroso; he refused to wash clothes. 44 THE SON OF PIO The American studied the lad for a moment. He thought he understood. El Dangeroso sus- pected that, in persuading Emiliana to wash the clothes, Pacifico had declared such work beneath his masculine dignity, and would not recede from his declared stand, unless provided a cause by which his "face might be saved." But El Dan- geroso also knew the lack of esteem in which the Filipino holds the Chinaman. ' ' What is the use of acting like a Chinaman ! ' ' the American protested. "You know you are go- ing to wash clothes, even if you make me use a switch so that you will have an excuse for backing down. Better get busy," he advised. Emiliana thought the American roared. She knew that Pacifico 's defiance was her fault. A very earnest little girl dared to grab the pony- switch dangling from the American's wrist. "No, no, senor," she pleaded. "You do not understand. I have the fault, senor. The insult. I laughed at him, senor. And senor, the mucha- cho of the American Teacher is a principale. It is not the 'Custom' for a principale to degrade himself with 'woman's work.' But I," she stepped in front of her chum, and raised beseech- ing, frightened, brown eyes to those smiling blue ones which could understand her, even admire her without repelling, "but I am a woman, senor, and it is proper for me to do a woman's work." She waited. THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE 45 El Dangeroso slipped the loop from his wrist, stuck his hands in his pockets, and smiled at her. Emiliana gripped the dreaded bejuco in her own hands, and sighed. What might have happened if El Dangeroso had forced the issue in the face of the incipient rebellion, especially after Emiliana had openly declared her alliance with the insurgent, only Pacifico knows. But El Dangeroso was wise in knowledge of the Filipino's ways, and expected no unreasonable perfection from a small boy whose ambition and virtues far outweighed the shortcomings which environment had ingrained in him and only time and training could overcome. El Dangeroso had not forgotten the lad's actions at their first meeting, his anxiety to protect an American from ridicule. As that episode sug- gested a piece of guile that might be successful, El Dangeroso argued the matter. "It is a bad 'Custom,' and I don't like the bad 'Customs,' " he declared. "And besides, Paci- fico is not a principale. He wont be a principale until he can vote, and the American Law won't let him vote until he can speak a lot of English. Pacifico must learn English before he can become a principale." Such reasoning did not convince Pacifico. In some ways, the American was a very ignorant man. Pacifico did not question the wisdom of learning English he meant to learn the language, but he knew the symbols of a "Personage"; the 46 THE SON OF PIO significance of the public reception accorded him upon the one occasion of his public appearance in the garb of a "Personage" could not be whiffed away by a storm of words. "You do not understand, senor," Emiliana finally asserted in an effort to cover Pacifico 's silence. "But what am I to do?' 'El Dangeroso puzzled. "My 'Custom' won't let me have a girl do my washing for nothing, and my servant won't do it for me." He sighed. "I guess I'll have to wash my own clothes all by myself." In the face of that possibility, that poser, the picture the suggestion conjured before his eyes, Pacifico fidgeted. Still, he did not yield. El Dangeroso calmly waded into the water, boots, khaki trousers, and all, and squatted be- side the clothes. Pacifico squirmed uncomfortably. When El Dangeroso began to labor, the lad objected. "No, no, senor," he sputtered. "Some passer- by will see, and spread the news, and the people will come to see." El Dangeroso ignored the protest. Undoubtedly, he was awkward, and splashed much water, and mussed himself unnecessarily. Undoubtedly the ludicrous spectacle he made of himself, and not Pacifico 's uneasiness, was the cause of what Emiliana did. She tittered. That was more than Pacifico could bear. He turned against her. THE DIGNITY OF A PERSONAGE 47 "Fool!" he snapped. "Fool of a woman! Would you ridicule the illustrious American?" Then he set to work, begged El Dangeroso for the privilege, and eagerly, anxiously, urged the drenched American to stand close under the bank before any people gathered. El Dangeroso consented, as a favor. And when the crowd did come, Emiliana as- sumed an attitude of absorbed interest, an atti- tude which clearly announced some marvelous at- traction in the method by which Pacifico washed clothes. It was her sneering retort, "Fool! Pacifico washes clothes like an American, with American soap," that silenced Panfilo's jeers. Finally, the last garment was finished, the bundle tied. Pacifico glanced surreptitiously from Emiliana to El Dangeroso, disgustedly at the clothes. Then, though El Dangeroso had sauntered on- ward and Emiliana again offered her services, Pacifico lifted the burden to his own head and marched defiantly homeward. Strange to relate, Pacifico found that the inci- dent, despite the publicity which it gained from the rumor that El Dangeroso had illustrated American methods of washing, did not lessen the deference popularly paid him as a "Personage" of Badi. Other experiments with laborious duties confirmed the suspicion that "the miichacho of the American Teacher," like an American, was ex- empt from the restrictions of Filipino ' * Customs, ' ' 48 THE SON OF PIO and need have no fear for the security of his dig- nity, nor worry himself with schemes for evad- ing degrading tasks. In his ability to establish the "Customs" in Badi that should govern what was proper for "the muchacho of the American Teacher, ' ' since he was the first to have that dis- tinction, a "Personage" found a big consolation. And more, obedience would make it possible to learn English, and to become a BEAL principale. CHAPTER in PIGS ALONG THE TEAIL rilEE results of the episode more than de- ii lighted El Dangeroso. For several weeks his little servant was the most obedient, docile boy imaginable, no matter how objectionable, from a Filipino standpoint, the task assigned him. The American felt well-paid for his patience in combating the lad's inherited faults, felt, too, that Pacifico's changed attitude augured a successful development of his protege's evident natural ca- pacities. But on returning late one afternoon from a trip to a barrio, El Dangeroso found a chicken and some eggs at the door. The steps were not the proper place for chicken and eggs. "Well," said he talking to oneself is a habit of Americans in the Philippines, ''that means the kid has deserted the job for play, I suppose." Leaning over to pick up the provisions, he dis- covered Senor Lasam's card tied to a chicken leg. El Dangeroso frowned. He knew that, friend- ship was not responsible for Senor Lasam's many recent gifts of chicken and eggs. Bather, they indicated Senor Presidente 's desire to propitiate, 50 THE SON OF PIO to blind, one who might interfere with some secret tyranny in Badi. But what that encroachment upon the rights of the ignorantes might be puz- zled El Dangeroso. Pondering upon the possi- bilities, he sauntered into the kitchen. There, he found Pacifico sprawled out on a cot The man was neither frightened nor alarmed by the still figure; the odor in the room explained the trouble with the lad. El Dangeroso walked over to his medicines and hunted for the whisky. The bottle lacked about twice as much of being full as it had the last time he had seen it. Half- seriously, he shook his fist at the stupefied lad, and laughed. "You little rascal!" he drawled. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and studied the unconscious culprit. Then the other side of the argument presented itself. "But I don't know," he medi- tated. "You are the only googoo I ever knew that could let ( bino americano' alone for two whole months. Must have been fearfully curious about the tales you have heard about its marvel- ous powers. And I wouldn't let you try it; I told you whisky was bad for you! I guess you have been a pretty good boy, to resist tempta- tion for all of the two months. ' ' He thought for a moment. "I wonder?" Then he opened the quinine box. ' ' Oh, that 's it ! " he exclaimed, when he had assured himself of the disappearance of two ten-grain capsules. "He has watched me ever since I told him the 'bino americano' would PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 51 make him sick, and when he saw me take a malaria chaser last night, without anything happening to me, skepticism got the best of his fears. He just had to try it.'* He pondered a minute. "Per- haps he thought the quinine was the antidote for the bad effects." El Dangeroso laughed again. "Phew! Twenty grains! But won't he have some music in his little ears ! I guess that that will be enough of a lesson, if I make him see what happens to curious boys when they don't do what they are told." Next morning, the clatter of pots and pans in- cidental to the preparation of breakfast, awakened Pacifico. Startled, he sat up. "Jesu!" he exclaimed. "It is already time to get dinner, is it not so, no?" "Your reckoning is wrong, sonny. This is breakfast." Pacifico stared blankly at his employer. Then he listened, intently, very intently. El Dcmgeroso grinned. "What's the matter, kid? Ah Sam's fiddle tuning up in your ear?" Involuntarily, the lad stuck a finger into that organ of hearing. There was nothing the matter with his ear. Only the noise seemed louder. He tried the other ear, with the same result. 1 ' A very strange racket, senor, ' ' he faltered. El Dangeroso laughed. ' ' Nothing to get scared about, youngster. It is from the quinine, and will stop in a couple of days. 52 THE SON OF PIO But how does your head feel? Like a cock-fight was going on inside of it? You know, I told you to let that 'bino americano' alone." In the tone of the last assertion was just enough of sternness to suggest that possibly El Danger- oso was not in as pleasant a mood as his previous mirth had indicated. Pacifico was often uncer- tain of the best way to contend with those contra- dictory moods. Moods were one of the freakish characteristics of Americans, like their fondness for whisky. Pacifico 's mouth puckered at that recollection. At least, common sense dictated caution. Pacifico ignored the assertion. But El Dangeroso meant to settle the matter while the physical discomforts of the lad's esca- pade would fully corroborate and emphasize the points of his lecture. He placed the whisky-bot- tle on the table. Pacifico was interested. He noticed that the American was very grave. Such seriousness on the part of Pio would have augured too well for the probability of a private, active, noisy engage- ment with the razor-strop. Pacifico believed in the policy of avoiding participation in such en- counters. "The mottled pig, senor," he eagerly explained. "This morning" he hesitated, and corrected himself, "yesterday morning, senor, after you had gone and while I was at the river, the mottled pig came into the house, and drank some of the 'bino americano.' But I got back, and chased it PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 53 out, and put the bottle up. The pig was very sick, senor. Oh, so dizzy, it felt! The pig " Pacifico stopped short, and stared fearfully at the American. El Dangeroso seemed to be strangling, his face burned crimson like the blossoms of the Fire-Tree, he snorted like an angry pony ! Before a mood that the lad believed to be the strange wrath that would make a single American forget all danger and charge a thou- sand armed men, Pacifico cowered. El Dangeroso regained his self-control without roaring his laughter at the ingenuous lie, with- out betraying his amusement. As the falsehood was the more serious of the two offenses, because a greater detriment to the development of the capacities of a small Filipino, it required drastic action ; El Dangeroso assumed an attitude severe enough to impress upon the culprit the contemp- tuous nature of a lie. "You googoo," he began, with what seemed to be a sneer. The insulted boy sprang to his feet. "No, senor" voiced his angry denial. "No googoo," he pleadingly protested. He squared his shoulders and tapped his chest. "Never have I fought the glorious Americanos, senor. No googoo. Filipino, me." El Dangeroso stepped back, and contemplative- ly studied the trembling brown boy. He nodded judiciously. 54 THE SON OF PIO "Yon don't look like a googoo," he conceded. "Perhaps I made a mistake. But you can't blame me for that when you lie like a googoo. I can't tell that you are not a googoo when you act like one." He tramped back and forth across the room, just as he always did when he was debating some problem with himself. "But why don't you act like an American?" he asked. "Then I could always believe you, and trust you, just like I would a little American boy. And I would know that you were not a googoo." For an hour, Pacifico puzzled over the sugges- tion in El Dangeroso's words. He became so interested in the riddle that he forgot his head- ache and the noise in his ears. If acting like a googoo made a googoo out of a Filipino, what would a Filipino, an Ilocano, be if he acted like an American?. Obviously, the answer ought to be, an American. And El Dangeroso had said, "You don't look like a googoo." What did he look like? Pacifico went to the mirror. A very brown, brown small boy stared anxiously back at him. The reflected face clouded with disappoint- ment. Evidently that brown face did not belong to an American, for Americans are white. Then the face in the mirror brightened. There were Black Americans. Pacifico had seen them, he had known them. From them he had learned his first English. True, it had been poor English. But still there were Black Americans. And per- PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 55 haps perhaps Pacifico scarcely breathed per- haps there were Brown Americans. "Senor, what makes Americans out of Black Americans?" he asked. The tableau at the mirror, which El Dangeroso had observed, the question itself, a sympathetic intuition, all combined to point out the signifi- cance at the query. Though every Southern sensibility of El Dangeroso 's being rebelled at the slightest implication of equality between the de- spised race and his own, he granted the conces- sion, for the sake of the brown boy's best welfare. "It is this way, sonny. They are just niggers, blacks, except when they act like Americans. It is the way they act that makes them Black Americans," he explained. Pacifico interrupted with an eager question, and held his breath. "Are there any Brown Americans, senor, any place in the world?" Promptly, positively, came the answer, "You bet there are, kid. Lots of them. I've seen them. And then El Dangeroso floundered. To extem- porize instantaneously a satisfactory, reasonable explanation might baffle the ingenuity of any man. But Pacifico did not notice the instant of hesi- tation ; he was enjoying the sensation of breathing once more. "Color doesn't make an American; it's what a man does. An American is brave in battle, and 56 THE SON OF PIO stands by Ms friends; he doesn't run like a goo- goo," the white man was saying when Pacifico again gathered the sense of the words. ' ' Googoos lie and steal. Brown Americans don't." Pacifico heard the statement, heard the words of the amplification that followed. But the les- son did not interest him. He had an Ideal to occupy his thoughts, to ponder upon. Perhaps the reflection in the mirror looked like a Brown American. It was not the image of a googoo; El Dangeroso had admitted that. But how could a brown boy prove himself a Brown American, when there was no war in which he could "be brave in battle," no troubles nor dis- asters in which he could ' ' stand by his friends ' ' I Of course, a boy could avoid lies, and get thrashed now and then, since it was essential to being a Brown American. But in such fool- ishness was nothing spectacular enough to attract attention, to show El Dangeroso that Pacifico was a Brown American. El Dangeroso called Pacifico into the kitchen. "Here is a chicken and more eggs, plus the compliments of Senor Lasam," he stated. "I am sure there is something up in this town. I was just wondering if you could tell me of anything he wouldn't want me to know about." Pacifico knew of many unpleasant facts. The matter of the House Tax had bothered him great- ly. He dug his hand into the pocket of his real American trousers. The metallic hardness of PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 57 the four pesos hidden there, those most essential pesos, relieved a momentary fear that they were lost. It was fortunate that El Dangeroso's ques- tion had reminded him of the House Tax. But the House Tax, and such burdens, did not con- cern El Dangeroso. Pacifico knew of nothing that would interest the American, at least nothing of general interest, and so declared. Of course, El Dangeroso would have been highly interested in the source of those four, big, round, silver pesos, a fortune in themselves. But that affair concerned only Pacifico and El Dangeroso, not Senor Lasam, and the full reckoning in the matter, though undoubtedly unavoidable, could well be postponed until some future time. For the present, Pacifico preferred to think of Brown Americans, who did not lie nor steal, rather than of secret loans. Nevertheless, the method in which this loan had been made worried Pacifico, especially since El Dangeroso's remarks on Brown Americans. For a moment, Pacifico was tempted to tell El Dangeroso about the loan. But the urgency of the House Tax counseled caution. El Dangeroso paced back and forth, and mut- tered to himself. To know that Senor El Dangeroso worried over what Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam might be planning, troubled Pacifico. It filled the lad with an appalling doubt. "Senor, have you much fear of Senor Presi- dente?" he faltered. 58 THE SON OP PIO El Dangeroso glanced at the lad and smiled. He surmised that the lad had mistaken his habit of thinking aloud for a sign of uneasiness. "None," he stated. "And he won't hurt you; he is too afraid of me to try any tricks on me or my friends." As that was true logic, good logic, logic a Fili- pino could understand, it reassured Pacifico. "He is just making too many gifts to suit me," the man explained. "I know he is up to some tyrannical game he doesn't want me to know about, and I can't find out what it is. But one of these days the ignorantes of this town will know me better, and then it will be different; they '11 talk." Pacifico wondered about that House Tax. It was a tyrannical burden. But as the American Government had inflicted it on the poor Filipino, it couldn't be called Senor Presidente's "game." Nor was it reasonable to suppose that El Danger- oso was ignorant of any American Law that Senor Lasam was familiar with. So, Pacifico concluded, it would be useless to trouble the American with complaints about it. Pacifico realized that he must devise some scheme to get those four pesos to his father be- fore the last minute of grace, before two o'clock that afternoon, if their property were to be saved. But the great truth, "Brown Americans are brave, and stand by their friends, and don 't lie, ' ' proved a refrain which constantly interfered with plan- PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 59 ning to get permission to leave for the day. The injunction, "And don't steal," persisted in tack- ing itself on, until much patient repetition re- placed the three words which Pacifioo wished to forget for the present with the clause, "And all Americans speak English." Suppose a Filipino boy, like Pacifico, suddenly began to speak Eng- lish ! What reward might he expect from a gen- erous master like El Dangeroso? But El Dangeroso might laugh at the first un- practiced efforts of a Brown American. In imagination, Pacifico could hear a snicker of ridi- cule. He shivered. But still, El Dangeroso might not suspect that his servant was a Brown American until "the mucliacho of the American Teacher" always spoke English. The time was propitious for a trial; El Dangeroso was in the other room, was hidden from the lad's own sight. "Zo many zings I haf learned," Pacifico es- sayed in the wonderful but terrible English, a speaking knowledge of which possessed the al- chemic power of bestowing the right to vote and, even more unbelievable, of making a common ignorante equal to a principale. Breathlessly, the lad awaited the dreaded titter of amusement. El Dangeroso, a smile on his face, swung through the door, and, his arm outstretched, bore down upon his servant. Pacifico quailed. "Fine, kid, fine," the American encouraged. "I knew you could do it if you would only try. 60 THE SON OF PIO Just keep it up, sonny, and you'll win that forty pesos for me from Jenks of Mapia." The man ceased thumping approval on the brown boy's shoulders just long enough for the lad to recover his breath, just in time for the Filipino to control his tears. Renewal of that manifestation of pleasure called forth a protest- ing, "Sir, par-don, sir, zat pains." Placing his hand on the black hair, El Danger- oso tilted the earnest but dubious face up until he could look into the fathomless dark eyes. His own were serious. "I'm so pleased that I'm forgetting myself," he apologized, " because I know you can speak English. My, kid, if you let Jenks' block-head muchacho beat you, now, and make me pay up ! you see, I bet Jenks forty pesos that my kid would speak English before his square-nut ; if you lose out now, I'll well I'll want to fan the broad portion of your anatomy to a fare-you-well. See?" he concluded, shaking the lad's hand in congratulation. Pacifico laughed at the jocular threat. "Zen I haf for to go hum zis day-e?" he re- quested. "Sure, kid," El Dangeroso agreed, "a fellow who has learned so many things deserves to go home for a visit. And you can take a can of salmon to the old folks. How is that?" For particular reasons of his own, Pacifico would have preferred to postpone any investiga- PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 61 tion of the salmon, although such an offer ought to have delighted his Filipino gustatory prefer- ences. But such an offer under the present circumstances precluded a refusal. A refusal would have aroused suspicions. However, for those same reasons, Pacifico believed that it would be wise to propitiate the American with a fur- ther use of English. "Eet ees wise for to learn many zings," he de- clared. "Smart kid," the American laughed, and walked over to the case of commissaries. He stared cynically at a vacant gap in the stock, from which fully a dozen cans of salmon had disappeared. His eyes measured the culprit. Pacifico shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and anxiously awaited the storm. The hand in his trousers pocket clutched the four pesos. "Hunh," El Danger o so grunted. "I suppose the mottled pig swiped the salmon, too," he sarcastically remarked. "How about it?" he snapped. Pacifico surprised his employer; he promptly told the truth. "Yesterday, your unworthy servant sold four pesos worth of salmon to the Chino, Ah Sam," he confessed, and breathlessly waited for El Dangeroso to recognize in him a Brown American that "did not lie like a googoo." 62 THE SON OF PIO Too disgusted with this new lapse to realize at once the significance of the lad's frank declara- tion, El Dangeroso saw in it nothing but a con- firmation of the common American belief that no Filipino could be trained into trustworthiness. The master disappointed his servant's expecta- tion ; he did not hail Pacifico as a " Brown Ameri- can," he merely drawled, "Why?" " Perhaps," thought Pacifico, "he does not understand because I cannot think in English, but must speak Ibanag." Aloud, he explained, "My father needs four pesos, senor." As El Dangeroso accepted the statement for what it seemed to be, a poor excuse, there was no restraint upon the severity of the judgment he passed. Pacifico needed a lasting lesson, and one that the lad would respect. "You googoo!" he sneered in conclusion, "you common little googoo thief!" Pacifico hung his head, and two big tears cut a path through the grime on his sober face. "Come, what have you got to say for your- self?" El Dangeroso impatiently demanded, but answered his question without giving the lad a chance to reply. "Nothing," he asserted, "there is nothing for a googoo to say for himself, ex- cept that he IS a thief, and I can't make him stop stealing." Pacifico raised his eyes until they met his mas- ter's. It seemed to the lad that the contemptu- ous anger in those blue eyes lacked the harshness PIGS ALONG THE TEAIL 63 implied by the man's words and manner, that they invited confidence, promised mercy. Then he offered his defense. * ' My father is a little old man, senor. His back is round and his hands are hard from the years of labor in the fields. There are many bones in his body, like the ribs of a tired pony, senor, and there is much loose skin on his face. Only a year ago, he paid the last of the debt on his land, not much land, senor, just a few hectares. He must have ten pesos this afternoon, senor. For five months my family has eaten the roots and herbs and fruits of the jungle and river and field that they might save pesos. Yesterday, he lacked four pesos, senor. To-day, he must have ten pesons, or lose his land to whomever can pay his House Tax to the American Government, and become a peon again in his old age. I sold the salmon for four pesos, senor." El Dangeroso suddenly lost all interest in the moral issues involved in thievery. Nor did he give a thought to the erroneous impressions that might be left in his servant's mind by dropping the present difficulty so abruptly. He even for- got to inquire about the final disposition of the four pesos. But he exhibited an intense, unusual, googoo-like curiosity about that House Tax. In answer to questions, Pacifico explained in detail. The scheme was very simple; every ignorante of Badi who owned a shack was to pay a reputed tax of ten pesos, or forfeit his land. 64 THE SON OF PIO El Dangeroso's oaths punctuated the story. But this increasing wrath reached the explosive point when he understood that Senor Lasam. had credited the whole nefarious robbery of the peo- ple to "An Act of the American Commission." "That explains the gifts of chicken and eggs, kid!" he exclaimed. "There is no House Tax; the American Government abolished it. And when it comes to American taxes, the Government doesn't recognize classes of people; the taxes a man pays depends on what he owns. Now, you had better hustle home and tell your father to keep his pesos. I'm going to take care of that House Tax, and Senor Porcininity is going to learn how agreeable I am when I'm in my best humor." As El Dangeroso and his bejuco had a persua- sive way about them, their call upon Senor Presi- dente don Miguel Lasam, despite "Jesus" and "mananas" and " padencias" and "poco tiem- pos" and "Santa Marias/' was not prolonged. And even before their departure, the Tower-Crier started upon his rounds with a Summons for a Special Town-meeting on the next afternoon. As Pacifico told the children that the money paid for the House Tax would be returned, and as the children repeated the wonderful news to their skeptical parents, on the authority of "the muchacho of the American Teacher," a large gathering at the Town-meeting was assured. For the rest of the day, and all night, Senor Lasam moodily brooded, and sulked, in his shack. PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 65 He foresaw the ridicule that would be heaped upon him. The bitterness of it! To be sneered at by common ignorantes! And the teasing and jeers that he must endure from his associates and equals! The contempt with which his advice in conferences would be flaunted! It goaded him. He keenly felt his prospective disgrace; not the disgrace that would come from his rascality, but that which would result from getting caught in it like a novice. His chagrin, and disappointment over the loss of the pesos which he had already come to look upon as his, doomed his negrito slave to a merciless flogging under his own personal supervision. In the midst of it, an Inspiration checked his directions. Even yet he might save appearances, and gain something. As careful consideration of the Inspired Plan revealed no flaws in it, his colleagues found him in an unex- pected, exultant humor by noontime of the meet- ing day. "The 'Pig* of an American! I will fool him," he boasted to his eldest nephew, Guillermo, while waddling over to the plaza. El Dangeroso realized just how terrible a public exposure would seem to Senor Lasam, realized, too, that Senor Presidente would make some ef- fort to extricate himself from the predicament. El Dangeroso's presence at the Town-meeting would serve as a satisfactory restraint against any open, audacious scheme. At the same time, such a restraint would insure some secret, more 66 THE SON OF PIO sinister plan that would be harder to combat. Only his presence without Senor Lasam's knowl- edge would offer a perfect solution of the dilem- ma. Following several most casual repetitions of the remark, "I think I will make a quick a trip to Mapia to see Jenks," El Dangeroso sent Pacifico home for a second visit that same night, and with another can of salmon. On the way, Pacifico exhibited the gift to all who would stop for a chat, and boasted of it, and of his knowledge of all that the American did, even of whom the white man visited, citing as an example of his intimacy with his employer this visit to Mapia. And that news also spread, and was brought to Senor Presidente. Early in the morning, El Dangeroso hid himself within the enclosure beneath the bamboo band- stand, a vantage point from which he could make sure that his orders were obeyed in letter and spirit. By noontime, the ignorantes had gathered. As befitted a public occasion, every individual unit of the motley crowd was adorned in two pieces of clothing, but to the casual observer they ap- peared just an indiscriminate mass of bright- colored trousers and shirts, or ca/misas and skirts, and of vacant, brown faces. Hope throbbed in every ignorante heart. And every ignorante eye focused anxiously, expectantly upon the bamboo band-stand in the center of the plaza, where, just a silhouette against the brick cathedral and high PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 67 above the common mob, should appear Senor Presidente, that majestic, awesome Fate who must confirm either the surprising Rumor or the Skepticism which Life had taught. Senor Presidente came. Porcinine, squat, and sixty, impressively calm, he stood in solitary, unfamiliar, white-clothed dig- nity : with his pudgy fists clasped before him ; with his trousers a little high, and with his snug, well-starched, white coat clutching his shoulders backwards into the semblance of a military poise, but leaving between the buttoms in front several gaping holes through which peeked a few, brown abdominal rolls; with a green automobile cap settled well forward on his bullet head and hang- ing in precarious security upon his black, oiled bristles ; his little, brown eyes twinkling humor- ously in their creases; and his yellow tusks munching his buja-nut with a smacking insistence, while the crimsoned saliva oozed from the right corner of his mouth, trickled down his chin, and dripped rhythmically upon a receptive, white sleeve. After El Sargento and the other members of the policia had herded the "cattle" closer to the Center of their Universe, that none might miss his words of wisdom, they reported that Senor El Dangeroso was not present. When the proper degree of quiet had been finally attained, Senor Presidente spat his chew of buja to the ground, gulped a glass of water, 68 THE SON OF PIO noisily rinsed his mouth, sprayed the liquid to the care of the South Wind, and faced his people. ' * My children, this is a great day, ' ' he told the assembled ignov -antes, "a great day for all of us. My protest against the House Tax has led the American Government to abolish it." Wild, joyful cheers interrupted. "It is good for us to have a presidents that guards our interests,'* said one ignorante. "Senor Lasam must be very powerful, else he could not have influenced the American Govern- ment. It is wise for us to belong to his faction," said another. "Senor Lasam is a true friend of the laborers," was yet a third verdict. El Dangeroso waited for no more. He sprang out to the rear of his retreat, vaulted upon the band-stand, strode over to Senor Presidente, grabbed a flabby arm, whirled His Porcininity through a half-circle, and expressed his senti- ments to the surprised rascal. Then, in their own tongue, he explained the truth. The blank astonishment at first depicted upon the upturned faces of the people faded into jeer- ing ridicule. A laugh rippled over the crowd, and swelled into a derisive roar. "Liar presidente! Loco!" the ignorantes howled. Their master crept nearer the edge of the band- stand, glanced searchingly over the mob. But when the American looked at him, he turned care- PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 69 lessly aside. That was all. But imagination gave words to the threat, memory recalled many cases of fulfilment. A cowed silence settled upon the culprits who huddled together, each individual hoping that that casual survey had not betrayed his presence, or at least, had not detected his par- ticipation in the jeers. "So I'm going to the Provincial Capital after the American Treasurer/' El Danger oso con- cluded; "we'll stop this deviltry." Then he dismissed the people and drove them homeward that they might not be again assembled during his absence. In the hatred which gleamed from Senor Presi- dente's beady slits of eyes, two people read a spe- cific message. One was Pacifico, the other was Pedro Tallud. Pacifico saw the Threat. He shuddered, re- coiled. Pacifico knew the history and legends of Badi, knew from the tales he had heard on Sun- day afternoons at the cock-pit, knew from what had happened in his time and he had seen. There was the case of the Chino, Lee Fong, that was the latest; of Vicente Pagulayan; and of the querida, Ana Pajulan ; and of the Black Ameri- can who had died under the torture. Pacifico trembled for El Dangeroso. In imagination, the lad saw his master enduring that awful "mutila- tion process" which the leaders of his race re- served for such of their unfortunate conquerors as might fall into their power. An impossibility? 70 THE SON OF PIO But Senor Lasam was in league with the wild, cruel ladronnes, the robber bands of the Moun- tains. The picture terrified the boy, yet fasci- nated him. He could see the contemptuous, de- fiant set of the white man's thin lips, the scorn- ful blue eyes. That is the way El Dangeroso would meet the agony of the knife, until he died. Pacifico knew it. And that triumphant Spirit of Americanism won his admiration. An American always met his fate There was a break in the trend of the lad's thoughts. Twice, the words, "An American al- ways, ' ' repeated themselves without continuing to the correct conclusion. And then he remembered the elusive phraseology, "An American always stands by his friends, and is brave, and never lies or steals." Pacifico trembled. "Invite Senor Lasam's terrible vengeance!" he questioned. But the Refrain answered, "A Brown Amer- ican is brave." At that summons, Pacifico decided; he raced after his father, for Pio was an old man, who had seen many things, and was wise in knowledge of the world's sinister dangers. Prom him, a Brown American, a LITTLE Brown American, might learn how "to stand by his friends," when insidi- ous schemes are afoot. Pedro Tallud knew that there was more than hatred in Senor Lasam's glance; Pedro read in it a signal to himself. He alone of all Senor Presi- dente's henchmen possessed the powers of stealth PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 71 and cruel indifference which would serve this one of the Master's moods, and he knew the signs of that mood. Pedro obeyed the summons, and fol- lowed his reputed father to the Conference of the Town Officials. Toward night, when the heat of the day had passed, El Dangeroso set out on the long hike to the Provincial Capital. All unconscious of Pedro Tallud, who, with keen-edged war-bolo in hand, was skulking through the brush less than twenty feet away, the American swung along the Trail. Yet El Dangeroso confessed to a depressive sense of uneasiness, a feeling that all was not as it should be. He disliked the sensation, resented it, as one resents the unfamiliar. Nevertheless, it impressed him sufficiently to keep him alert, to keep his eyes snapping sharply from side to side, and still more unusual, to keep him carrying his gun in his hand. As no danger threatened him, he knew, there was nothing to cause his forebod- ing, unless it came from the knowledge that Lee Fong had so recently traveled over this same Trail to his assassination. And the Chief of Constabulary suspected Senor Lasam of instigat- ing that crime! But Lee Fong had carried a thousand pesos, a sum that would tempt the cu- pidity of a Senor Lasam, while he, El Dangeroso, carried nothing but his gun, and possibly Senor Lasam 's eternal animosity, as a result of the day's exposure. He laughed, an uneasy laugh. The discomfiture which he had inflicted upon 72 THE SON OF PIO Senor Lasam amused him. It also made him thoughtful. How thoroughly the principales had succeeded in intimidating the ignor antes! And what a task it was to reach the common people ! Their persistent refusal to give information against their oppressors disgusted him. He swore at them, and half decided to turn back, to abandon his quixotic interference in their behalf. It was none of his business, anyhow, and they had no gratitude. Then he remembered. Three cen- turies of tyranny, of oppression, of intimidation ! So, because of their ignorance and helplessness, he pardoned their faults and vices. The discom- forts, the inconveniences, the dangers to which he had subjected himself in protecting the poor, sor- did, misguided humans were worth while ! The roll of the distant thunder, rumbling, echo- ing, reechoing, attracted his attention. In the west, the lightning bit into the earth, and the storm clouds streamed over the heavens, shutting out the stars. He quickened his pace. Almost immediately the shower caught up with him, en- veloped him in its watery sheets, and softened the clay of the Trail into a gummy mass which sucked at and held his heavily shod feet. The " slush-slush-slush" that accompanied his re- tarded progress did not increase his composure, nor did the occasional cracking of a twig, nor the rustling of the leaves of the shrubbery around him. PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 73 Just before that point where the brush closes tightly upon the Trail, the very place where the assassin had ambushed Lee Fong, El Dangeroso halted, and waited for another flash of lightning that would allow him to peer ahead into the gloom of the tunnel-like passage. Beyond that stretch of road was Pacifico's home, and shelter until the storm had passed and the moon again searched out the shadows along the Trail. And then, while El Dangeroso hesitated, a cau- tious voice called in a whisper, "Senor! This way, senor, for the Trail is impassable, and we must go around it." El Dangeroso almost jumped, came nearer to jumping than he ever had in his Army Days, al- though the speaker was Pacifico. The man was very grateful for the silent lad's expert guidance around the jungle, more grateful than was war- ranted by mere avoidence of the physical dis- comforts involved in plowing his way through overhanging brush. And never was shelter more welcome than that of the four, bare, interlaced bamboo walls and grass roof of the shack, nor a light brighter than that of the wick in the bowl of oil. The lord of the house, who was stretched out on the bamboo slat-floor, sprang to his feet, hitched up his earthy trousers, the only covering for his thin, wiry frame, and kicked out of the visitor's way the chickens and fighting-cocks that were busily pilfering crumbs from the remains 74 THE SON OF PIO of the afternoon meal. Ignoring the retaliatory pecks at his bare, brown ankle, as well as the noisy, protesting clucks and crows, Pio shuffled forward, and bowed and scraped before the ATnp.riV.fln Eager to serve, he helped in removing his guest's soggy outer garments, and after the custom of the country, spread them on the floor to dry. In the meantime, Pio's woman sat in the corner of the shack, and waited, all prepared with her words of greeting should El Dangeroso deign to notice a woman. She removed from her mouth the thick tobacco-roll through which she breathed without puffing, and brushed back her long, black hair. Automatically, her fingers still sorted the tobacco leaves while her nimble toes held them until the bundle of one hundred was completed. 1 ' And how are you, senora ? " El Dangeroso in- quired. The woman's wrinkled countenance beamed. But she was equal to the distinction conferred upon her. She quickly climbed to her feet, and kicked the pile of tobacco leaves into the corner behind her, where they would be out of the way. "Very well, senor, with your permission," she replied. "Has the Senor had his supper!" El Dangeroso smiled. 1 ' I haven 't had time, ' ' he explained. * * Besides , you have had my servant to-day." "And the delicious salmon," Pio hastened to add. ' * Many thanks, senor, so very many thanks. I hope you will visit us many times, senor." PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 75 In honor of the occasion, Pio wrung the neck of his favorite fighting-cock, which the woman cleaned and cooked, while Pio spent the interven- ing time in catechising his guest upon various matters of interest. But a noisy argument be- tween Pacifico and his mother interfered with the examination. The disturbance required Pio's at- tention. "Why this wrangling of women?'* he loftily de- manded. 11 The insolent infant! Such folly! Such fool- ishness! Such useless labor! The shame such an undutif ul son will bring to my old age ! There is so much necessary work on the tobacco!" the old woman sputtered. "Now, he thinks he is a better cook than his mother! He says I must scrub the pan before I fry the chicken just be- cause I cooked the salmon in it!" "Fools! Both of you! Take your snarlings to the curs and out of the presence of men. Have you no manners? Ask the American, and do as he wishes." Diplomatically evading the issue, El Dangeroso suggested that Pacifico do whatever work he pro- posed, a suggestion that at first met everybody's approval. "Why waste so much labor on pots and pans, when only food has been cooked in them?" Pio asked in his search for information. "Scrub- bing is very hard work." 76 THE SON OF PIO Where sensitive feelings are concerned, the truth is sometimes impolitic. This, El Danger- oso knew, was such a situation. But he also knew the one unanswerable argument that a Filipino will accept without resentment, an argument that will win his assent to any innovation, for hospi- tality's sake. " 'Custombre, American Custom," the white man explained. Out of respect to ' ' Custom, ' ' to the demands of hospitality, to the man himself, Pio's woman re- fused further assistance from Pacifico, and her- self endured "Much useless labor," and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. "Sometimes a woman is a nuisance, senor," Pio apologized. "But perhaps you do not under- stand. Have you a woman?" "My wife is dead." "Was she an Americana, or a Filipina?" "An American." "Perhaps that would make a difference; she had a white skin. But are the Americans white all over, senor?" "Yes-s." "And are American women white all over, too; white like their hands and faces?" "Yes-s-s." ' ' And the American babies 1 Are they as white as the Spanish babies?" "Whiter." PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 77 "Jesu! It is wonderful ! Senor, are the Black Americans equal to the White Americans I ' ' "They have the same rights." That puzzled Pio. How could a colored skin be equal to the White! Pio wished that he were a Black American instead of a Filipino. Though he did not presume to covet the White Skin, he did envy the Black Americans. But since God had willed it as it was, Pio spent no time in vain regrets. Perhaps there could be such equality! Perhaps all that Pacifico had said was true ! Per- haps even, there were Brown Americans! Per- haps ! Pio pondered in silence. Before they squatted down to eat, Pio went out for drinking water; and discovered a Figure crouching beside the shack, and listening. Though its war-bolo reflected the gleam of a ray of light that stole out from between the slats of the bam- boo floor, Pio neither called to It nor investigated It, and when he reentered the house, he said nothing. But Pio was silent throughout the meal. Once, the American's coat moved ever so slightly. Pio snatched it away quickly, allowing the light that filtered through the slats to shine on something white? The American, glancing down just then, asked, "Is that a pig under the house?" Pio shrugged his shoulders. "Possibly," he answered. "I don't know." "At least, it is not yours?" 78 THE SON OF PIO "No." "I believe I'll put a shot near it, just to see it run," the American stated, and acting on the mischievous impulse, he reached for his gun. Simultaneously with Pio's grunted, affirmative, "Unh," an extra loud clap of thunder broke the silence. The American laughed. "Well, well!" he ejaculated. "The thunder scared that pig just as thoroughly as a genuine shot." He laughed again, but less boisterously. ' * If there is one thing I have a grudge against, it is a Filipino hog," he told his host. "Possibly," said Pio. That was all. Yet Pio knew that the "pig" had but two legs; Pio knew it was Pedro Tallud. After the meal was over, and the guest had smoked his cigar, the old man went to a window just an opening in the wall and called El Danger- oso over to him. He flung wide the shutter. "Look, senor," he invited, pointing to the sky in which there were no stars. "See, senor, it is a beautiful night, a beautiful night to travel. ' ' And the pouring rain purred over the puddles on the ground. The white man started back, scarcely repress- ing an exclamation of surprise as such an inhos- pitable hint from a Filipino and a friend. It was unheard of; it was an insult. Thoroughly puz- zled, he stared at Pio. But the impassive old PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 79 man was interested in the dense blackness of the night. El Dangeroso concluded that he must have misunderstood, that his own knowledge of the Ibanag dialect was at fault. "It is a bad night to travel, a wet and nasty night to travel," he answered, implying in his manner that his host had merely introduced the subject for discussion. Pio's vacant, brown face belied his decisive speech. "No, senor. It is a good night to travel," he insisted. "I know. See. There are no stars to give light, and the waters leave no trail for 'PIGS' to follow. It is easy to burn Pio's house when all are asleep. And there are many 'iPigs' about. It is a good night to travel." El Dangeroso' s searching eyes met only the back of the old man's head, for Pio was staring far, far out into the night. But Pacifico was peer- ing intently through the bamboo slats of the floor, while Pio's woman banged her bowls noisily; "Pigs" have ears, sometimes. The American dropped to his knees. He, too, saw the pile of slit bamboo and withered grass. And Pio's house was dry, very dry, like tinder. Then El Dangeroso understood. "Isn't there danger for him who drives such a 'Pig' from the trough?" the white man inquired. "What will a 'Pig' do, if it finds no fodder when it returns?" 80 THE SON OF PIO Pio shrugged his shoulders. He had counted the rewards a servile henchman might expect from Senor Lasam. He had counted every ven- geance that Senor Presidente might inflict upon him for his temerity in warning the American, had counted the tortures one by one, should Pedro Tallud overhear, and understand, the figurative message ; and had discounted his per- sonal danger on the basis that Senor Presidente would fear a living El Dangeroso. Again, Pio shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps the thunder scared the 'Pigs,' " he meditated, ' ' or perhaps they feared the Wrath of the 'Wild Boar.' But if the 'Wild Boar' is snared, the thunder will not scare them away again. 'Pigs' will run only if the 'Wild Boar' is loose." The American understood that his departure, though it seemed to withdraw the protection of his gun, would subject Pio to no personal danger from those whose enmity the old man might have incurred, unless the bad of heart could first suc- ceed in encompassing El Dangeroso' s own de- struction. The white man sauntered over to his damp clothing, and put it on, carefully examining his revolver afterwards. "Yes," the American agreed, "it is a fine night to travel." Pio had not finished. "There are many 'Pigs' along the Trail to the PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 81 Provincial Capital," he stated; "Pio heard them grunting while we ate." ''And are there 'Pigs' along the Trail to Badi?" Pio's negative lacked assertiveness. His at- tention was centered upon a squatty bush, a new bush not far from his shack. In the darkness, its outline was blurred. "Taking an occasional shot at a 'Pig' is great sport," the American remarked. "On which Trail will I find the best shooting?" Pio pondered. "Who can hunt in the brush by night?" he questioned. "Take the other Trail to Badi," he advised: "it passes through no jungles nor under- growth, and a man can see any 'Pigs' that run." "There is another Trail?" "Yes, senor, " the old man began, but stopped short. His eyes, better than his guest 's, had dis- cerned a "Pig." But the "animal" quickly van- ished into the darkness; and the squatty, new bush was gone. Then Pio continued, "The length of a hectare east of the Trail along which you came, is a clump of towering bambo with a mango tree before it. Forty paces toward the river from that point, you will find a Trail that affords most excellent shooting by night. ' ' El Danger oso raised his voice that all "Pigs" might hear. "I thank you, Pio. I thank you for your hospitality, but especially, I thank you for your pressing invitation to spend the night 82 THE SON OF PIO with you. I am sorry that I cannot accept, but I must return for some things that I forgot." Pacifico could restrain his impatience no longer. He touched El Danger oso 's arm. "Senor," he pleaded, "we are Brown Ameri- cans?" El Dangeroso understood. "That is what you look like, sonny, and that is what you are," said he; "three Brown Ameri- cans." And standing in the light of the open window, where all ' ' Pigs ' ' might see, he shook hands with each of the three Brown Americans. Then he plunged into the night and the rain. Pedro Tallud hurried to the ambuscade in the brush through which the Main Trail passed, and waited. So El Dangeroso found no "hunting" along "the most excellent Trail back to Badi," though he spent four hours of time, and much loud cursing, in wading through four miles of carabao-wallows and mud and slush and water, and though he reached his house in Badi only just before daylight. Shortly after sunrise, Senor El Dangeroso found Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam in the Tribunal. When Senor Lasam saw the white man ap- proaching, he sighed his relief. He had passed the night in a gloomy terror of what might hap- pen to him as a result of Pedro's work. Many times in those awful hours, Senor Presidente had PIGS ALONG THE TRAIL 83 wished that he could find Pedro, that he could recall the command to destroy the American. The punishment that he could expect from the American Government, should the crime be traced to him, loomed more and more terrifying than could be any petty retribution for falsifying the Land Records in an effort to rob the people. As the passing hours, and the efforts of his colleagues among the town officials, brought the legal docu- ments ever nearer to readiness for an Official Inspection by the Senor American Provincial Treasurer, thereby removing the lesser danger, Senor Lasam's fear had approached a state of insanity. With the appearance of the hated American, real physical evidence of Pedro's fail- ure, came a reaction. A paroxysm of joy fol- lowed that momentary palsy which could express itself only with a sigh, and Senor Presidente gushed a greeting more sincere than he had ever before given El Dangeroso. But the call was short, and everything that hap- pened, or was said, had for witnesses and re- porters the local Officials of Badi. Afterwards, the people learned that Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam was much better acquainted with Senor El Dangeroso, and that their Chief Offi- cial had renewed an intimate friendship with Senor El Dangeroso' s bejuco. CHAPTER IV A CROP OF WHISKERS FOLLOWING the episode in Pio's shack, El Dangeroso's attitude toward Pacifico changed. The lad ceased to mean merely a good, industrious servant, and became a protege. In El Danger- oso's own mind there was a big difference. No longer were Pacifico 's escapades regarded as shortcomings, as faults to be endured, as faults to be overlooked only because they were inherent to his race and because he personally was such an unusually industrious, ambitious Filipino. Esca- pades were now treated as manifestations of those mischievous proclivities common to all healthy boys, or as predicaments arising from a laudable ambition to solve mysteries. The new attitude was well illustrated by an in- cident during a visit of Jenks, the Teacher of Mapia. In honor of the occasion, El Dangeroso opened a can of peaches, of which he had but two. Pacifico had never before seen peaches. But peaches proved delicious. After he had treated Emiliana to a dish of the wonderful American fruit, and had himself returned for numerous tastes, there were but a few straggling pieces 84 A CROP OF WHISKERS 85 left in the bottom of the two-quart tin. To get the most enjoyment possible out of a bad situa- tion, for which there would certainly be a reckon- ing, he ate the remainder of the fruit. The ex- pected thrashing did not materialize. Instead, Pacifico found the empty can at his plate. Such an advertisement was bad enough. But with the placard it bore, announcing in big printed letters, ''All that the mottled pig left," Pacifico 's public shame was almost unendurable ; he squirmed and fidgeted through the whole meal. The punishment did not satisfy Jenks ' sense of the fitting. "Why don't you whale the lesson into the little devil!" he finally blurted out. "You bet my goo- goo knows better ! What is the matter with you, anyway! You didn't used to be so easy." El Danger oso's retort was mild. "Did YOU ever swipe a pie, or jelly, or cake that your mother was saving up for company?" he asked. Jenks sneered. * ' You can't treat a googoo that way. A googoo is disappointed in you if you don't lambaste him when he knows it is coming to him. He despises you for your weakness." El Dangeroso shrugged his shoulders. "My kid is not a googoo," he remarked. "He gets fanned only when there is no other way of making him see the point." 86 THE SON OF PIO Nevertheless, the new attitude did not grant Pacifico any license. If anything, he was held to a stricter accountability. But the motive was to control him, to guide him, to develop the best there was in him, not merely to discipline him, not just to make him a reliable servant. Pacifico did not perceive the change in El Dangeroso. The lad credited the difference, in so far as he noticed it, to his own personal effort to act the part of a Brown American. The altered condi- tions were apparent; they could not but be changed when a boy met the requirements of a new standard. One thing Pacifico did observe. It seemed easier to understand El Dangeroso, easier to learn. For a while, Senor Lasam's possible retalia- tions worried Pacifico. But nothing happened. So, though the incident, by common, intuitive con- sent, was never referred to in discussions with El Dangeroso, the lad in time gained a new assurance of security, a greater faith in the all powerful might of his benefactor. With that assurance well established, there was nothing to interfere with the serious business of life. And being a Brown American was a serious occupation. It required the closest, most patient application to details, details so intricate that a novice could not avoid blunders. The best inten- tions, the greatest earnestness could not guard against errors. Often mistakes, though they could be forgiven a googoo, brought penalties to A CROP OF WHISKERS 87 a Brown American. That was just, and desir- able ; a Brown American would scorn to evade his responsibilities. Always telling the truth was like hunting tormenting experiences, and the elimination of little thefts frequently meant the sacrifice of genuine opportunities. But since both were "American Customs," a Brown Ameri- can had to observe them. Despite a certain con- tempt for such freakish "Customs," freakish, to express it mildly, despite the occasional thrashings and other unpleasant personal conse- quences that resulted from their habitual prac- tise, these two "Customs" were promptly and thoroughly mastered. Other "Customs" proved more difficult; their intricacies were more elusive. There was shaving. All Americans shaved. All Americans shaved every day. At least, El Dangeroso did. So Pacifico shaved his smooth, childish face every day, after El Dangeroso had gone to school. But it was some months before he felt any secu- rity in the practise of that ' ' Custom. ' ' The razor, sharp as the fighting-spur of a game-cock, proved an unruly implement, one requiring great care and skill in its manipulation. Pacifico never forgot his first attempt. He used El Dangeroso 's razor. Though he made his face very slippery with American soap, and brushed it up to a thick foam, as El Dangeroso always did, the razor caught on the edge of his jaw. To staunch the wound and to make the 88 THE SON OF PIO scratch as little noticeable as possible, it was necessary to use much white powder. And, of course, Pacifico was late to school, for which in- fraction of the rules, El Dangeroso demanded an explanation. Pacifico told the truth. "Zee 'Custom,' sir," he fearfully blurted out. Strangely, El Dangeroso misunderstood. He assumed that the "Custom" referred to was the googoo "Custom" of always being late. With- out listening, or heeding the lad's efforts to ex- plain that it was the "American Custom" of shaving, El Dangeroso stood the culprit on the floor and made him wear the shameful sign on his back, just like a googoo. Afterwards, Pacifico substituted his own duller razor for El Dangeroso' s. Pacifico possessed a razor, a rusted blade purloined from El Danger- oso in his thieving googoo days, and retained after he had learned that he was a Brown Ameri- can because certain belated explanations would have been awkward. Pacifico had not blamed the disappearance of that razor to the mottled pig. Fortunately, he had remembered in time what all the world knows : pigs are like googoos ; they have no whiskers on their chins. In fact, pigs have no chins; they have smooth snouts with bristles under their eyes. Of course, bristles and whiskers are both hair, and can be cut, and per- haps pigs would like it, if the smooth went farther up their snouts. But, then, Pacifico had offered A CROP OF WHISKERS 89 another tentative suggestion, of which he had always been proud, because there was hidden in it some necromancy which had warded off both immediate and future consequences. El Danger- oso had peacefully accepted the explanation that the razor might have been swept up with the rub- bish and so have been thrown into the river, and had blamed himself for his carelessness. In time, Pacifico mastered the intricacies of the " American Custom." But there is little satis- faction in an accomplishment, unless one finds admiration for one's skill. As Pacifico desired admiration, and envy, he took his razor with .him on one of his visits home, and shaved. "I am a real American," he boasted; "I shave every day." Pio was interested in the operation. Under some circumstances, he might have been envious. As it was, he saw the lack of certain essentials. "But you have no whiskers," he remarked. "Americans have whiskers." Pacifico 's spirits descended to the depths of gloom. Perhaps he was NOT a Brown American ! His father's statement was true. Americans, white Americans, all had whiskers. But because of that modifier, white, he did not give up all hope. "Do all Americans have whiskers!" he asked El Dangeroso that night. El Dangeroso barely glanced up from his book. "Why yes," he answered, absently. 90 THE SON OF PIO There was just one more chance. Pacifico per- sisted with the interruption. "American boys, too?" El Dangeroso dropped his book. It was a peculiar twist for interest in anatomy to take, but it was a real interest, even if sprung from Filipino envy of a white man's distinctive hirsute adorn- ment, and it would be poor pedagogy to discour- age a spontaneous interest. "Yes, but they don't really grow until a lad has shaved for a while," he explained. After all, it was something about the shaving! Pacifico wondered what mystery in the art of shaving had eluded him. As undue curiosity might arouse suspicions, or result in disastrous questions, necessitating belated explanations about that razor, he carried the immediate inves- tigation no further, but relied on observation. El Dangeroso always used a liquid from a bottle and the white powder after each shave, he learned. The mystery of American whiskers was solved! Pacifico tried both. He had no doubt but that the smart which followed the application of listerine vouched for the liquid's efficacy. The talcum powder soothed. On his next trip home, he took a sample of each. Unfortunately, as his preparations were neces- sarily hurried and surreptitious, his liquid came from the wrong bottle. "These are what make whiskers grow," he told A CROP OF WHISKERS 91 his father. ' ' Soon, I shall have a beard to shave, ' ' he boasted. Pio had no reason to doubt anything supported by El Dangeroso's eminent authority. He also had great faith in parental authority. If any member of the Baliuag family were to enjoy the distinction conferred by the possession of whisk- ers, the white man's distinctive attribute, Pio meant to be included. The younger member of the family could wait. Following Pacifico's able directions, Pio shaved a wrinkled face, which in his youth, before sun and wind and time had dried the vitality from his skin, might have been adorned with a weak fuzz. As Pio could endure pain for ambition's sake, he vigorously rubbed the liquid on his face, despite the sting of numerous scratches, and then sprinkled on the powder. Finding that the peculiar, drawing tension on his skin was a most disagreeable sensation, Pio washed his face before retiring, for his daily siesta, to that corner of the room in which were gathered the family supply of feathers. His face felt much cooler and more comfortable. But the feathers stuck persistently, and would not brush off. Now, if Pio had been thoroughly conversant with the vagaries of mucilage, he would have understood. As it was, he went to the piece of mirror on the wall, and stared. Just then, Pacifico sauntered in from the yard. 92 THE SON OF PIO "So? So?" said Pio, a wicked, triumphant exultation in the swoop with which he made for his fighting-cock's heaviest tether. Pacifico had visions. He knew that the im- pending catastrophe would be far different from a mild kitchen session with El Dangeroso and the razor-strop. In the first place, the sincerity of Pio 's intentions were never in doubt. In the sec- ond place, no convenient table would frequently substitute its legs for Pacifico 's. Nor could Pio be deceived into satisfaction with the results at- tained by mere howls, by howls too frequent to be in harmonious unison with the blows of the tether. In delay, or argument, was the only hope. Pacifico proved himself equal to the emergency, if it was only with a flustered effort. "Perhaps the feathers come first to protect the tender, little hairs from the cold, like the feathers on a chicken's breast," he suggested, in a propitiatory tone of voice. Pio's woman walked in just as her "lord and master" smothered the culprit in a tight, preliminary embrace. She laughed derisively, laughed so boisterously that the bundles in her arms were scattered on the floor. "Fool! Fool of a man!" she scolded. Then she turned to El Dangeroso, who had accompanied her from town for one of his valued visits. Point- ing scornfully at Pio, she sneered, "Not enough labor has he, with all the work in the field. Fool ! He must have whiskers to labor on ! Perhaps, if A CROP OF WHISKEES 93 he had whiskers to cover his brown, alligator hide, he would be an American ! Fool ! ' ' Pio quailed before the lash of such sarcasm. Beneath a pile of tobacco leaves, he hid his shame from the eyes of the scoffer, until she pulled him out by an obtruding, bare leg, and scrubbed his face with a brush and much soap. El Dangeroso took another view of the matter. He turned on Pacifico. "You young scampi" he growled. "I'll teach you to make a fool out of the old man. ' ' On this occasion, El Dcmgeroso's intentions were serious enough. But Pacifico knew El Dangeroso, and maintained a secure distance until he had made explanations that established the in- nocence of his motives and placed the incident upon the plane of an accident. Of course, the whole tale necessitated some humiliating confes- sions, about the long-forgotten disappearance of the corn-razor. Pacifico 's mother was not so easily appeased. But in commenting upon the chastisement admin- istered by her, Pacifico assured El Dangeroso that Pio would have spanked so much longer, and harder. Besides, Pacifico declared himself satis- fied with the justice of the retribution; he had taken the wrong liquid, an inexcusable piece of bungling. Or the thrashing might well be bal- anced against the long disappearance of the corn- razor, which was again in its owner's possession. 94 THE SON OF PIO To El Dangeroso, the incident was pathetic. Beneath the blind, unguided, wasted effort in it, beneath the error of mistaking personal appear- ances, and white clothes, and physical prowess, and shooting, and such superficialities for the realities of character and worth, the man saw the patient striving after an ideal, the indomitable perseverance in pursuit of an ambition, qualities that typified courage and deserved the best of guidance. El Dangeroso spent the afternoon in giving the brown lad a real ideal to aim at, and planned for himself the task of imparting the definite instruction that would make such a goal a possibility. "Knowledge of the Law is what makes us Americans powerful, and dangerous to the bad of heart," he explained, "but I'll teach you to shoot a gun, to box, everything of that sort that I can, if you will really work to learn all the things I know to be worth while," he promised. Pacifico pondered upon the wonderful power of knowledge. He was skeptical, at first, because he knew that Senor Lasam feared El Dangeroso' s strength with the bejuco and not the American Laws. But since El Dangeroso said it, he dis- missed his doubts, and believed. Then he gave play to his imagination, and supposed, as he and Emiliana always did in their games of "make-be- lieve," that El Dangeroso was gone from Badi, and that Pacifico knew all the "Laws" in the won- derful book. Many a ludicrous situation appeared A CROP OF WHISKERS 95 before his vision, and in every one, Senor La- sam, at the climax of some bit of rascality, quailed before an all- wise Pacifico who knew the ' ' Law, ' ' and was feared by the oppressive principales, and who was respected by every one. Pacifico laughed to himself over the ridicule that came to Senor Lasam in those visions through the activi- ties of an exultant, brown "new El Danger oso of Badi." The Brown American who took the "Acts of the Commission" to bed with him that night was- the "new El Danger oso of Badi." And next day he had a new game to play with Emiliana, the game of "the Brown El Dangeroso," in which he was the hero who always rescued her from some direful fate ; a weird game, with many dangerous snags hidden in its suggestions. THE SPECTER BEJUCO THE next two years of Pacifico 's service with the American were peaceful, quiet, busy years. In them Pacifico grew through the physi- cal changes from childhood to youth and learned to speak an English almost perfect. Yet in most matters, his Filipino viewpoint still dominated his thoughts and actions; a condition of affairs not fully realized by his mentor. El Dangeroso saw no valid reason for the lad's objection to becom- ing a competitor for the School Medal, and in- sisted that Pacifico work for it. But Pacifico felt that he faced a dangerous di- lemma; either he must offend El Dangeroso, or he must defy "Custom" and invite the conse- quences therefore. "Is it wise, sir?" he questioned. "/ am an ignorante MY father is only Pio Baliuag, the laborer of the hills. Panfilo knows more English than any other principale boy, and he also speaks Spanish. All the people will regard it as an insult to Senor Presidente if his nephew does not win the Medal. It is the 'Custom,' sir/' he added, to give his protest the support of an unanswerable reason. 96 THE SPECTER BEJUCO 97 As usual, the American belittled custombre. "Senor Presidente 's anger can be terrible," Pacifico suggested, "and he is powerful." "Ah!" El Dangeroso ejaculated. "You mean that he will surely punish somebody for the sup- posed insult? Probably the ignorante winner?" Pacifico shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows? As God wills it," he answered. "You forget that I am El Dangeroso, who pro- tects his ignorante friends from the vengeance of the bad of heart, even to the point of bringing pub- lic humiliation upon a bad presidents," the Amer- ican argued. "Principales fear me." That obvious truth silenced Pacifico. But it was not until later, after finding Emiliana Danga at his father's shack, and feeling the spur of adula- tion in her fathomless, dark eyes, that he decided to do as El Dangeroso wished. In the presence of his family, and for her benefit, he boasted : "I have no fear of Senor Presidente; I shall work for the Medal, and I shall win it from Pan- filo," he declared. Pio shook his head dubiously. He could not feel the elation that shone in the countenances of mother and of betrothed, nor would caution per- mit for him the assurance that swayed his son. "The things you have said are true," he agreed. "But could El Dangeroso save even him- self, should Senor Presidente use ALL of his vast power against the American? Such an in- sult might arouse Senor Lasam's full wrath." 98 THE SON OF PIO Pacifico laughed uproariously. "Unh! Let him use it," he sneered. "Senor Lasam is an ignorant 'hard-head' who fears El Dangeroso, the white man that flogs bad presi- dentes," Pacifico asserted. ' * Sh-sh-sh-sh, " Pio warned, "some one may be listening. ' ' Pacifico lowered the tone of his voice, out of respect to Pio's fears, of course, and continued, "The American's wisdom forewarns him of all dangers, and guards him against evil better than a 'Charm' could. He knows all things. He knows more than why yes" the lad hesitated while he crossed himself surreptitiously "he knows more than the Pope." Pio promptly boxed the sacrilegious mouth, and then crossed himself. The ringing in the lad's ears deafened him to the horrified remonstrances of the women. For a whole minute, Pacifico held his breath, and await- ed the possible Vengeance of Heaven. But the expected punishment did not materialize. "It is the truth*" he defiantly repeated. "Be- sides, El Dangeroso is a white man, and white men of wisdom know all things. ' ' "Unh," Pio grunted. But further considera- tion of the facts pointed out a glaring flaw in his son's reasoning. "Once I warned the Ameri- can," he reminded Pacifico, "and it was neces- sary. If the white man's wisdom is as wonderful THE SPECTER BEJUCO 99 as you say, why didn't lie know that there were 'Pigs' along the Trail?" Pacifico talked at random until he thought of an answer to that poser. "El Danger oso is a * Freak,' " he informed his father. ' * The Spanish Geography says, ' The Uni- ted States is a nation of Freaks, of Advertise- ments, and of Millionaires,' and the American Geographies do not deny it. A book says it is so. That night, El Dangeroso knew that there were * Pigs' along the Trail, though he did not admit it," the lad claimed. "But who can ac- count for the whims, or the actions, of a 'Freak'?" he triumphed. "Possibly, he wanted proof that we are Brown Americans." "Jesul" Emiliana exclaimed. "If American wisdom can make a 'Freak' so powerful, what will it do for a sensible man?" The force of that contention aroused Pio's respect for his son's coming greatness, and also silenced him. He foresaw the day when he should proudly announce, "My son." But no man could tell what dreams filled the thoughts of the two women; dreams of the bowings, and scrapings, and distinctions which Pacifico should receive, with themselves in the near background. The growls of the curs interrupted. The igno- rantes listened, their eyes on the door. The heavy, laborious tread of the approaching feet cast over them the spell of foreboding. A knock! "Entra," Pio called. 100 THE SON OF PIO A perspiring, puffing Senor Presidente waddled in. Only Emiliana kept her presence of mind. Lest her beautiful person should remind the vis- itor of Tallud's desire for her, she sprang through the window and disappeared in the darkness. Senor Presidente mopped his face, deposited his massive physique on the floor in the customary squat, cleared his throat, and in his most oracular style, propounded the truth, "What God has willed, must be." He paused long enough to be- stow a fatherly, benign smile upon the three. "God wills that some be principales, like me and mine. And some, like you and yours, must be laborers. And Pio, too much education is bad for an ignorcmte; it makes him dissatisfied with his lot in life, and unhappy." They understood. The mother cried an anguished protest against the veiled command. But though the wracking sobs of his woman almost unnerved him, though his own lips trembled, Pio managed to mumble a "Wen, senor," of assent, and to keep his mo- tionless, expressionless eyes focused on Senor Lasam's face. On his way out, Senor Lasam placed his pudgy, greasy fist on the ignorant one's head. Slowly, impressively, he delivered the warning, "It would be sacrilegious to dispute the Will of God, and dangerous to tempt His Vengeance for thwarting His Divine Providence. God has willed that Pa- cifico shall be a laborer. Let him put away the THE SPECTER BEJUCO 101 fine clothes so much above his station in life, and take your place at laboring in the fields, while you rest, as is the l Custom* of our country. It is the Will of God, and I advise it." Pio's eyes did not falter at the threat, although he could barely articulate the expected "Wen, senor." The old ignorante exulted in his son's poise; about it was nothing to shame a father, no "spectacle" for such a connoisseur of misery as Senor Presidente to gloat over. Only the lad's dry, burning, unflinching eyes stared at the ruins of a crumbled dream. Next morning, the children on their way to school discovered Pacifico squatted in the shelter of the bamboo lean-to in his father's corn-fields, and hailed him with various inquiries. In reply, he only grasped the end of the bam- boo rope stretched across the field, mechanically rattled the old cans dangling from it, and brooded in the safety of their din. And on this morning, the tins served no purpose other than to drown out the suggestive hails of his schoolmates, for there was neither locust nor bird to be frightened from a feast of corn. Only the green leaves flut- tered, and the golden corn-silk, and Pacifico 's thoughts. Children and School and El Dcmgeroso and Americans and The Future and Dreams and Lib- erty and Ambitions, were no longer Interests in his Life. For him, there were The Following of the Plow and The Harvest and Tobacco and The 102 THE SON OF PIO Siesta and Buja and Gambling and Cock-fights and A Woman. A woman? Emiliana? She went to the American School. And Ardelardo could go to School! And would become a Princi- pale! He could win HER! Pacific choked back a sob, and cursed. And who would miss the ignorante, Pacifico Ba- liuag, son of Pio Baliuag, who was a laborer of the hills? Emiliana? But Ardelardo would win HER now! Perhaps Panfilo would exult openly over his rival's downfall. Panfilo! Pacifico grated his teeth; Jesu, Santa Maria, y Josep! how he hated Panfilo and all of Panfilo 's kin! Pacifico grabbed up the rope and jangled the tins belligerently. And El Dangeroso? Pacifico almost sobbed like a woman, but instead, he swore like Pio. And then, over and over, came the Temptation. Suppose a boy, a Brown American should defy a Parental Command, and should risk Senor Pre- sidente's vengeance, and should tell El Dange- roso the truth! Pacifico shuddered. Yet Senor El Dangeroso was a "Freak," an American "Freak," a white-skinned "Freak," and he MIGHT be more powerful than Senor Lasam. He might even discover the truth without ! But how could that be, when there was no one to tell him? And yet ? The warning hum of the Locust- Scourge, just a great droning whir that floated louder and loud- er upon the air, was lost in the medley of the THE SPECTER BEJUCO 103 boy's reverie, and in the din of the clanging cans. Down the broad, treacherous Cagayan and around the bend toward the South, a dark, wand-like cloud extended to the apparent junction of the East Coast Sierra Madres and a Spur of Foothills from the West Coast Mountains. Twisting and turning with the course of the river, flashing in the sun- light, resistless, relentless, unpitying, the slender cloud of locusts swept onward in its rush to the turbulent China Sea. But the lad's brooding fancies blinded him to the threatening grandeur in its nearer approach, the terrible grandeur of Destruction advancing, and the jangling tins still subdued the mono- tone of its humming song. All the laborers and all that could make a noise, principales and ignorcmtes, men and women, the old and the young, the strong of limb and the feeble, hurried into the fields, circled about them ; banging pans, pounding the earth, shriek- ing, howling, shouting, yelling, straining their muscles and lungs in their efforts to raise a ter- rifying clamor. One hope abided in each heart, the hope that the locust's harvest of starvation, of woe, of disease, and death would be a neigh- bor's portion. Still oblivious to the din about him, Pacifico brooded on, and mechanically rattled the cans about his field. As the Scourge swept nearer, dashing, drop- ping, arising again in a wave-like flight, the people 104 THE SON OF PIO broke into one vehement, protesting, agonized cry, a united shout of rage, of despair. Pacifico sprang to his feet, sprang into the vanguard of the Insect Host. Startled by such a sudden apparition, as they had not been disturbed by the prolonged uproar, the Leaders parted to the right and to the left of the lad, as a Mountain Stream sometime divides and ilows around the pebble in its pafi. The Mass of the Pests fol- lowed them, an', all the people marvelled to see the sun shine undimmed on Pio Baliuag's corn. A rod in thickness, a half mile in width, the In- sect Mist rolled over and about the' people, and driven on by the millions of atoms pressing hard on those before, swept onward again, dimming the noon-day sun and casting a shadow upon the earth. None of the people missed the full power of the sun's rays, nor felt the chill beneath and within the pest-cloud, for they knew only the wear- iness of their exertions. But the locusts sneered at human efforts, scoffed at the death dealt them, and stayed to feast where they would. As far as eye could see, the cavalcade had neither beginning nor end. Where the insects rested for but a moment, the green of the corn turned to the dull brown of the pests, and the stalks crumbled and fell under their wriggling, crawling, hungry weight. As fast as blows of clubs crushed them, others took the places of the destroyed ; while the thousands which, hold- THE SPECTER BEJUCO 105 ing grimly to their course, flew into the nets set for them, were but a drop to the thunder shower. At night there was famine where there had been plenty, but the field of Pio Baliuag was an island of green in a river of scorched, brown, dead stalks, and Pio offered his prayers to Jesu, Santa Maria, y Josep. Perhaps there was in the old ignorant, j's heart a little more kindness toward Senor Presidente. Pacifico had certainly been the Instrument of God ! If the boy had gone to school as usual? If Pio had heeded the lad's arguments, had trusted to the American's power, had fol- lowed impulse, had disobeyed Senor Presidente 's commands'? Pio shuddered. His eyes wandered off, back and forth and around, to the fields be- hind his own, to those before it, to the right and to the left. But seldom in a lifetime did a man even hear of such a prompt manifestation of God's Approval, much less see it, or experience it. In the presence of a Miracle, Pio crossed himself. Then he sighed. And then he saw El Dangeroso far down the Trail. For a full minute, Pio held his knees together with such force that there was no instant of time in which each did not feel the pressure of the other. But with the American's nearer approach, he sneaked away. El Dangeroso studied the old man's stooped, bony back, until the half -lope, half -shuffle had car- ried the ignorante into the bamboo lean-to. The white man walked over to Pacifico. 106 THE SON OF PIO 's the matter?" he demanded. The snap in the question warned the lad that something had aroused the suspicions of the om- nipotent American. Pacifico picked up a clod of earth between his toes and carefully examined it. Twice, the tip of his tongue moistened his lips. Then he coughed vigorously, undoubtedly causing thereby the tears that blurred his sight and the gulp with which he swallowed the obstruc- tion in his throat. Methodically, he balanced him- self on the ball of one foot, held his body in per- fect poise while he took a careful aim at a danc- ing, distant tin, and threw the clod with all his strength. The missile struck the ground just three paces in front of him. "I must leave school. My father is old, sir, and I must help him, ' ' he declared ; * * it is the ' Cus- tom/ " Pacifico prayed for some interruption, for any interruption that would end that cutting, super- cilious survey of himself, even prayed that the American would curse, or strike with the real be- juco, as an angry principale should. Instead, the American shook his head slowly, sadly, as though Pacifico had wielded a bejuco. A dumb, furtive prayer in the lad's swimming, dark eyes begged for understanding. "You poor little brown devil!" El Dangeroso sympathized. "I suppose you are only obeying the old man's orders, and that is 'Custom,' too. Is that it, sonny? Is that why you are lying to THE SPECTER BEJUCO 107 me again, and after all these months of being square? And it is a mighty poor lie, at that, sonny. " The familiar closeness of that word, sonny, which the American used to no other, brought the tears. El Dangeroso strode after Pio. "What does this mean?" he demanded. The old Filipino ceased rattling the tins, and glanced at the bejuco hanging from the Ameri- can's wrist, for who ever heard of a man of principals cast that would hesitate at using a con- venient pony-lash on an ignorante. In Pio's eyes there was also a plea. It moved him strangely to look into the calm, stern face of the man who had befriended his boy, the white-skinned face which spoke so many things, but which his ele- mental mind could not read. "It is time for him to work, senor. He has been to the wonderful School long enough, senor. I am an old man, senor, and he must help me with the labor in the field. That is just, senor, is it not so? Not " Pio asserted, though he trem- bled at his audacity in making such a statement in the presence of white-skinned omnipotence. El Dangeroso studied the stooped, old man, and shook his head. Pio thought the American was glaring at him. Pio cowered. The American discerned in that pose, not con- scious guilt, only a fatalist's submission to the 108 THE SON OF PIO Inevitable. And El Dangeroso knew just how "Fate" manifested itself to the ignorantes of Badi. For a moment, he gave the ignorante a more careful survey, a penetrating, disconcert- ing survey. ''You have been a pretty good old boy, Pio," the American declared. "Not many googoos would have worked like hell just to give the kid his chance. Most of them would have let the lad have the mucho sun, mucho sweat, and mucho trouble. But you have acted like an American. And now?" He paused, studied the old man again, and shook his head. "That story won't do." Pio studied the unobtrusive lash. Observing that significant, suggestive glance, El Dangeroso tossed the bejuco far away, and re- quested the truth, as a friend might ask it. Pio licked his lips, and protested that he had told the truth. But his woman sobbed and sobbed, and begged the American with her eyes. "Senor Presidente Lasam was at your house last night," El Dangeroso stated. "You see, I need not be told." Pio started, and his roving eyes searched the twilight on all sides, but especially behind him. "Senor Presidente came to buy my tobacco, senor, to buy my tobacco," he claimed. "It is the truth, senor, I swear it is the truth. By Jesu, Santa Maria, y Josep, I swear it. ' ' THE SPECTER BEJUCO 109 "That is a false oath," El Danger o so charged. "And why should you fear Senor Lasam? Has any harm ever come to Juan Danga, the ignorantc that flogged Senor Presidente at my command? Senor Lasam fears my wrath. Why else should he give his commands at night, and in secret?" The toil-worn old man bowed his head in silent thought. His hands nervously clasped and un- clasped, while his lips formed the words he dared not utter. His Woman's beseeching eyes looked up into his thin, wrinkled, earthy face and im- plored him to tell. She put her own hard, brown hand on his shoulder, and whispered to him. The action brought the memory of a time long gone by, the memory of hopes. Knowing the decision which her mother-love would dictate, he turned suddenly about and walked off, leaving her alone with the American. The old woman crept very close to Senor El Dangeroso. With many an admonitory "Hist," with many a furtive, side-long glance, with many a "Jesu, senor!" she whispered into the Ameri- can's ear a voluble account of Senor Presidente 's visit. Later, a cynically smiling El Dangeroso strolled into the long, bare assembly-hall of the Tribunal, and came to a halt before the wobbly chair that sustained Senor Presidente 's corpulency. Again and again the American's eyes swept the pudgy, linen figure, from bristly crown to slippered feet. 110 THE SON OF PIO Senor Presidente waited, like an ignorante, for the white man to speak. "Pacifico and several other ignorante boys were not in school to-day," the American Teacher re- ported to Senor Lasam, who, as the official Senor Chairman of the Municipal Board of Education, certainly ought to be informed of all general cases of truancy. In a slight hesitation in the white man's speech, Senor Presidente detected a smooth, quiet drawl, while the visitor 's meditative gaze seemed to focus upon that portion of Senor Lasam 's anatomy which once had borne the marks of El Dangeroso's bejuco. Senor Presidente crossed his legs, and uncrossed them. 1 1 So ? " he ventured. But silently, he cursed the uncommunicative "Pig of an American.'* The "Pig's" words NEVER revealed the true extent of his knowledge. "So," he repeated. El Dangeroso dug one fist into a pocket, whis- tled absently, and gave his attention to nothing in particular. Senor Lasam pondered. But surely no igno- rante had dared to confirm the "Pig's" suspi- cions ! He sighed his relief, and mopped his per- spiring face. The bejuco cracked. Senor Lasam jumped. Surreptitiously he ob- served the deadly precision with which El Dan- geroso snapped the flies from the table. With just such a fascination as the terrifying exerts, that THE SPECTER BEJUCO 111 bejuca charmed Senor Lasam. He watched it curl and twist and squirm and sting, and heard it hiss and swish. El Dangeroso noted the absorbed admiration of his skill. He bent the whip into a loop, re- leased the tip, and held the lash in the light of the window until the last vibrations ceased. The expression of his face, his manner, as well as his words, bespoke a connoisseur's admiration for the beautiful lash. "A wonderful bejuco!" he said. "The heart of tempered steel gives it a spring and body that can drive its corded deer-thong binding." "Wen, senor," Senor Lasam hastily conceded. When a sudden snap dropped a stray locust, Senor Lasam squirmed in his creaky chair. "And it cuts a beautiful welt," El Dangeroso boasted. "Wen, senor," Senor Presidente chattered. El Dangeroso suddenly lost all interest in the subject of conversation. Carelessly switching his whip, he sauntered out of the Tribunal. Senor Presidente climbed to his feet, and glanced behind him. He felt that spot of his per- son which had endured the insult on the never-to- be-forgotten occasion of his public humiliation at the hands of Juan Danga. The memory of that bitter experience grew more and more vivid, so vivid that once again he could almost feel the biting sting of the blows. Anxiously, he peered into the shadows of the corners, as though he ex- 112 THE SON OF PIO pected a blow from a Specter wielded lash. Then he waddled out of the Tribunal away from rhe Specter. But the Bejuco of his Imagination fol- lowed him. It seemed to swish just at his heels, and though he waddled faster and faster, it kept up with him. And so he waddled to the barrio of Andaman. "Yes," he said to Pio Baliuag, "I have heard how Pacifico used his knowledge to-day to save your corn. It is well for the people to know how the locusts may be scared away, is it not sol You will send the boy to school." It was humiliating. But the Specter Bejuco was insistent; it followed him still. With many a backward glance, he waddled to the homes of Pedro and Ardelardo. Only when he had coun- termanded all of his orders of the preceding even- ing was he able to waddle homeward in puffing, perspiring peace and comfort. Seated within his Tribunal once more, he vowed vengeance ; sometime. CHAPTER VI RENUNCIATION IN the Cagayan Valley, a February day should charm the senses, should soothe the emotions. Its soft warmth caresses nature, and nurses into vigorous growth the tender unfolding buds that cover the bare limbs and stalks of trees and brush. And if it be the first perfect day after the rains when the pools are dried but the earth is still soft and moist, the new blades of grass spread a restful mantle over the dull monotone of clay. Germinating life seems in undue haste, as though some sense warned it against delay in reaching a maturity hardy enough to withstand the withering, scorching onslaught of the tropic summer. On such a day the winds are stilled, and the bare, rugged outlines of the mighty moun- tains tower, unveiled, into the undimmed blue of heaven, as though the Master of the Winds, in a strangely beneficent mood, had conspired with the Father of Waters to leave unmarred by storm or mist the one kindly spell of the year. So the Magician, who, on behalf of mankind, had wrested the concession from the God of Fire, knew that every human being should feel the thrill of the February day. 113 114 THE SON OF PIO Yet on such a day, Emiliana brooded. The sinister, treacherous purr, the gentle laps of the waters against the bank, alone betraying the speed with which the silent, unruffled Cagayan rushed by, harmonized better with her mood. Pacifico might sense the day, might respond in his whole being to all of its soporific charm without com- prehension of its full import, but for her its sug- gestion of budding life carried a sting. Yesterday she was still a child. To-day, she was a woman of sixteen. Womanhood implied more than the early physical maturity of the Trop- ics. There was yesterday to prove it. Though that February day, so like this one, had insidiously called upon her maturer self to force childhood from the domination of her being, she had wilfully resisted the attacks, and had laughed and danced and frolicked with Pacifico in the old childish way. The stimulus of an exaggerated, careless gaiety had sustained her spirits, and had deafened her consciousness to the voice she fought. Lightly, yet somewhat seriously, as though the man of him vaguely felt its significance, Pacifico spoke of the day; a thoughtless comment, but tinged by an indefinite emotion in the tone of his voice, "We could drift down the river on a day like this, and forget everything but the peaceful beauty of it all." The surprise of hearing that thought which she had definitely barred from her own mind, the manner of the speaker, broke her resistance. RENUNCIATION 115 That February day won ; womanhood claimed the ascendancy over childhood. She had sobbed, and fled, and had refused an answer to a single en- treaty with which he had pursued her until she had slammed the door of her father's shack in his face. The night and morning of pondering had left her filled with doubts. And so, while she waited on the river-bank in her father's yard for Paci- fico to come, she brooded. Emiliana admitted her love, a woman's love, for Pacifico. Overnight, she had discovered it in herself. But Pacifico loved his ambition, the new life interests which had fascinated him. Slowly, gradually, so imperceptibly that only comparisons between times far apart revealed the change, Pacifico had slipped away from her, away from the sympathetic understanding that had ex- isted between them in their childhood. Tears welled up in Emiliana 's eyes. But they did not flow. Pacifico would deny the existence of any es- trangement, but she intuitively felt it. The suitors that wooed her, had wooed her for months, con- firmed her certainty of it. Pacifico was so mat- ter-of-fact, so indifferent, about them. Even when she told him of the compliments they paid her, and ridiculed them for their words, he never thought to admit the truth of what they said. And without vanity, she knew that she was beauti- ful. Their efforts to court her did not worry him. 116 THE SON OP PIO But in the past, when Pacifico had offended her and she had gone to play with Ardelardo, Pacifico had always surrendered. Emiliana smiled wistfully. That was before El Dangeroso came. Before the American came ! The American ? The Amer- ican had wrought in Pacifico that change, a change only intensified by the lad's ambition to become "the El Dangeroso of Badi" when the white man should leave! Emiliana hated both the American and the am- bition. The example of the one, the glory of the other, had stolen Pacifico from her. In four years, he had grown away from her. She had sensed it in those dead, childish days before yesterday; and but a month back, she had reproached Pacifico for the difference in his attitude toward her. Even yet, chagrin made her eyes smart at the memory. He had misunderstood, and had blamed "Custom," as though she were ignorant of the restraints imposed by "Custom" upon a friend- ship between a man and a woman, as though the glow of sympathy and understanding could not brighten formality. She had had to laugh at him, when she really had wanted to slap him, to state definitely that she had no desire to get into scrapes, nor to play the new game of "the El Dangeroso of Badi." And still he had failed to understand ! So she had suspected that he talked to her about V boxing" and "shooting" and "American Laws" and his new interests, not be- RENUNCIATION 117 cause he loved her in a man's way, but only be- cause the custom of talking to her, developed in play, had just continued and made it easy for him to confide in her. No, Pacifico did not love her. He thought of nothing but his 1 new interests; his "boxing" with El Dangeroso, and his "shooting" on the river, and "Laws." They had his heart, and so Emiliana despised them. She remembered her own favorite amusement, and modified her judg- ment. She could understand his interest in the "Laws"; they were something to read, though American school-books, and novels, and histories were so much more enjoyable. But even in the case of the "Laws," she resented his love for them. He did love them, though he would deny it; he always talked about them. Yet Emiliana was just to Pacifico; she admitted his sincerity in claiming that his interest in boxing and shoot- ing and Laws arose from the prospects that they would open for both. He believed it. But she instinctively knew all that no mere man could see. Besides, the suitors who pressed their at- tentions upon her, compelled her to realize the true significance of things. She threw a clod into the river, and watched the ripples spread, and fade, and melt away. Like the Cagayan, calm, mild, benignant on the surface, El Dangeroso was really a malignant, turbulent, treacherous breeder of sorrow. His influence, like the waters below her, had insidi- 118 THE SON OF PIO ously swept her and Pacifico gently onward, and then, without warning, had crashed them on the snags of life. If the American had never come to Badi, Pacifico would have grown up without his new interests, and would have loved her, and she would have been happy. Happy? Would she? Some instinct within her objected to the conclusion. Such a Pacifico would have been she hesitated, groped for a comparison. His father, Pio, came to mind. Such a Pacifico would have become like Pio, scrawny and wrinkled and stooped with toil. For herself, she would have preferred a Pacifico like Pio; he would have been hers alone. But for Pacifico ? She saw the Pacifico that would be. A Master and Leader of men ! And that was best for Paci- fico. That was as Emiliana wished it to be. Then she accused herself for allowing Pacifico to grow beyond her. The answer came : ' ' I have done my best." A review of the past confirmed the claim. In the first two years of El Dange- roso's work in Badi, she had studied merely for the pleasure of learning. In the third year, she had won the first Medal for the Girls' School as easily as Pacifico had won that for the Boys' School. Household duties and labor in the fields had kept her from studying as much as she had wished, from accomplishing all that she had de- sired. The same handicap had interfered with every other girl, and so the boys, upon whom " Custom" imposed fewer responsibilities, had ex- RENUNCIATION 119 celled the girls. Yet only Pacifico among both boys and girls had surpassed her. And if she had had a Patron like El Dangeroso, if some American woman had been for her a guide and example, she knew she would have kept pace with him. She had done her best. "Custom," the greater restrictions upon her time, her poorer opportunities, had allowed him to outstrip her. But suppose she should win the Scholarship which the American had offered to the boy or girl, barring Pacifico, who first succeeded in pre- paring for the Provincial High School. A thought startled Emiliana. "Why did the American always urge her to win it? The wily American! He had seen whither Emiliana and Pacifico .were drifting. Emiliana smiled wistfully, perhaps kindly. But El Dangeroso was a man and could not understand. What if she did become a teacher! Pacifico would go to Manila. Old Pio was not a peon, like HER father; he could save the extra pesos from his crop and the pesos he won in the cock-pit. Even without a Patron's aid, Pacifico would go to Manila. Emiliana stared southward down the Great River. Manila lay beyond those dim, distant mountains, lay more than three hundred miles away. Twelve days of travel, if one could spend more for an animal than the cost of a year in the Great City, and if one rode hard every day ! From two weeks to a month by the cheaper and more 120 THE SON OF PIO comfortable water-route! Pacifico, in that Far City, would be lost, like an exile. As she stared, the Wonderful City revealed it- self to her imagination. Cathedrals and The Palace, beside which the brick church of Badi was a hovel! Streets of stone! Mountainous ships, against the sides of which cascoes were specks of dirt ! El Dcmgeroso had described those ocean vessels. Endless sweep of the Sea ! And wagons drawn by ponies, instead of carabao-carts ! In that City, Pacifico would become a Leader! To him, the senoritas of the highest caste would defer. Amidst all that magnificence, Pacifico would for- get his playmate, Emiliana. And then, when he had forgotten perhaps his memories would check him until that time, when he had forgotten, he would choose from among the most beautiful and accomplished of those cultured senoritas a mate fitted for his station in life. Emiliana shut her eyes, but the picture still throbbed before her vision. She folded her arms and pressed them against her lids. Then her por- tion in life presented itself. She would grow old and haggard, and some time in the future, when Pacifico, an illustrious man, again visited Badi, he would fail to recog- nize in her his childhood's playmate. She would never know whether it was because she had changed so, or whether it was because she was so far beneath his notice. Perhaps she would die then. And when he heard of her death, perhaps RENUNCIATION 121 he would remember: she could bear it all, if Pacifico only cared a little now. Some whistler floated a melody to her ears. Emiliana listened. She glanced at the sun. As usual, he was late. For a moment, anger swayed her, and she clinched her fists. Then resentment at the diversions which had detained him swept over her. They could always hold him from her! But yet, he always came, even if late. Perhaps he did care a little ! A test suggested itself. She sprang into the shrubbery and hid. If Pacifico still cared at all, he would remember her old, childish trick, and hunt for her. He would know just where to look for her. And then she could bear it all ! Pacifico went to the place where she had been. Not finding her there, he went to the door and asked for her. Gestures are expressive. So is the sudden shrinkage of a pair of broad young shoul- ders. Emiliana knew just when her mother said, "She went out an hour ago." Pacifico returned to their accustomed haunt. Her lips parted, breathing deeply, expectantly, Emiliana watched him. The puzzled frown on his face amused her. But the young man only stood in the one place, searched everywhere with his eyes, and called her. Emiliana held her lips between her teeth, lest she answer his hail. She never knew how long 122 THE SON OF PIO she waited for him to begin his search; she only remembered that he never began it, that he merely paced back and forth for a while, and left. For a moment, Emiliana sobbed. But hurt pride calmed her. He wasn't even grateful to her for submitting to the boredom of his rhapsodies upon his interests! With pride as her ally, she could forget. And there were suitors who would welcome an opportunity to pay her attentions! Nevertheless, a lingering tear or two blinded her to the dejected droop of the retreating shoulders. Next day, Pacifico found Emiliana entertaining Ardelardo at the hour which was supposedly re- served for him, his only hour of freedom during the day. Though he disliked the accident, though he resented Ardelardo 's assurance, though Emi- liana was unusually spirited and exerted herself to amuse her chance guest, he thought nothing of the occurrence. But when he found Ardelardo there again next day, he wondered. And when on the third day, Emiliana refused him an opportu- nity for a word alone, he was puzzled. After that, he began to worry about it. At the end of a month, his anxiety led him to risk El Dangeroso's best efforts at teasing. And El Dangeroso could tease, deliciously so for the onlooker, terrifyingly for him who endured it. Pacifico meant to evade any discussion of his trouble. He hoped to acquire a supply of useful information from the Source of Wisdom by means of apt queries, and chose a time when El Dange- RENUNCIATION 123 roso could not fix his whole attention on an in- quisitor. The white man was shaving. Pacifico carefully considered several questions which might imply a desire for knowledge. "Is Emiliana a Brown American?" he casually remarked. El Dangeroso stared into the mirror, while the razor swept away a swath of soap. "Hunhf" he grunted. "Oh, about Emiliana. Sure she is. Some brains there." He laid down the razor, and turned the bureau so that the light fell squarely on his face. Pacifico sighed his thankfulness. El Dangeroso would be able to interpret the whims of an Ameri- can girl. Pacifico puzzled so intently over the wording of his next comment that he failed to no- tice the peculiar little glance which his sigh had won. "Emiliana is the kind of a girl a fellow ought to hang on to," the white man volunteered, as he stropped his razor. Suspiciously, Pacifico studied a most innocent countenance. "What is the 'Custom* that American girls follow when their friends visit them!" El Dangeroso ought to have understood that Pacifico realized the desirability of observing the "American Custom" when visiting an American girl. He ought to have explained it. Instead, he dropped the razor on the table, and whistled. "So that is the trouble!" he exclaimed. "I 124 THE SON OF PIO wondered why your school work was falling off so. Come, kid, out with the tale of woe. What has Emiliana been doing to you?" Pacifico hung his head, and maintained rigid silence. Nevertheless, El Dangeroso quickly had the story. The lad's answers to a few shrewd ques- tions coupled with the surmises that the boy did not deny, revealed the state of affairs. As the man's serious mien and sympathy assured Paci- fico that El Dangeroso would not resort to his frequently jocular attitude, the lad talked, frankly but haltingly. "I don't know much about girls, sonny, but I think it looks as though she was teaching you some lesson. And I don't know what the lesson is, but if I were you, I would learn it in double time," he advised. " Suppose you try to remem- ber what you have done that needs a lesson." Pacifico pondered for a week, experimented with many suppositions, and despaired. About the time he gave up hope, he observed Emiliana 's very evident pleasure in the little gifts, just tokens of esteem, which Ardelardo and Pedro and Panfilo and other boys presented to her. As a similar evidence of regard might bring a solution, he planned a gift that should surpass any of theirs in being appropriate to her charms. That noon he asked El Dangeroso for a box of talcum pow- der. The American quizzed the lad. RENUNCIATION 125 "Emiliana is a little lady, kid, and I don't think she will wear a false complexion. Better think it over carefully." Remembering that she was a Filipino, he hesitated. "But I don't know how she would take it. If you are dead sure it will be all right, go ahead. But BE dead sure," he em- phatically warned. Pacifico was certain. Any girl of his acquaint- ance would be overjoyed with such a gift. It would mean for her the ability to appear on holi- days and Sundays with "a complexion like a Spaniard's," to vie with the town's wealthiest beauties. Emiliana was too poor to enjoy that pleasure. In imagination, Pacifico gloated over the sensation her wonderful, sensitive, expressive features would create when properly powdered. He presented the gift with the prettiest speech he had ever made her. ''For the face whose beauty the 'complexion of a Spaniard' cannot enhance." Ardelardo fidgeted uneasily. Jealous envy of the donor's triumph possessed him. Pacifico saw, because his eyes were not on Emi- liana, and exultation thrilled him. For just a second the girl stared at her child- hood chum. Then she took the gift from his out- stretched hand. A strange smile, such a smile of comprehension as no man ever fully fathomed, tinged her face with sadness. She sprinkled the powder upon her hand, smeared it over her palm, 126 THE SON OF PIO and gazed at the effect. Then .she shrugged her shoulders, and laughed. "Take it," she commanded. Mechanically Pacifico obeyed. What else he did, heard, or said in the next minute, he never could remember. Ardelardo reached an erroneous conclusion. He assumed that Emiliana would accept assistance from another in punishing the offender. "The poor lunatic cannot see the insult in im- plying that your wonderful complexion needs pow- der to give it the appearance of a Spaniard's," he sneered. "He even disgraces himself in school with his foolish answers to the maestro' s ques- tions." Emiliana surprised Ardelardo; she promptly, firmly banished him. Then she turned on Paci- fico. " 'Hard-head,' you!" she stormed. "Helpless infant ! Why must you shame me so f Disgracing yourself in school! And I must hear such pigs ridicule you ! ' ' she mourned. The familiar, motherly tone of her lecture aroused Pacifico from the stupor of his pain. "Why I" he pleaded. Emiliana understood him. But she did not mean to explain her action. She couldn't. She had not had time to explain to herself the sudden collapse of her resolution, the instantaneous change in her attitude toward him from the new to the old. She only knew that something was EENUNCIATION 127 fearfully wrong with Pacifico when he failed in his lessons, that she was going to learn the trou- ble, that she had resented Ardelardo's sneer, that Pacifico would misunderstand any immediate ef- fort to show him how ridiculous powder on her face would make her. "What have you done in school?" she demand- ed. Pacifico merely stared at her. She stamped her foot. "Why don't you talk?" she petulantly inquired. But that mood exposed her to the true weakness of her own resolution, and she assumed an impe- rious air. "Tell me," she commanded. But Pacifico 's wounded feelings, unassuaged, deafened him to all words but such as would ex- plain her cruelty. "Why?" he begged. Emiliana had had another moment to think, to adjust her mental powers. She was gentle to him. "Crazy one!" she reproved. "If I accepted your valuable gift in the presence of another, and afterwards refused his, when as publicly given?" Pacifico appreciated the girl's terror of scan- dal. That possibility excused everything. He held out to her the gift she had spurned, and in his manner, its suggestion of waiting upon her will, in the poise of his head, in the suppressed power of his voice, was the force of a simple, compelling dignity. 128 THE SON OF PIO "You will take it now, and forgive my thought- lessness," he apologized. Emiliana hesitated. Then she accepted his use- less gift. "Tell me." He skipped over the results back to the cause of it all, back to the source of his heart-ache. He steadied the tremor of his lips, conquered the paralysis of his throat. "I have missed you." To Emiliana, it seeemd that the hot March wind died away, that the humid mist faded, that all green life was budding, not already hardy and strong in maturity; the Great Magician had brought back the glory of a February day with no sad suggestion in it. Pacifico had missed her ! He cared. He would even tell her of his love, if she gave him the opportunity ! Let him detect the tenderness in her voice! "Missed me? But you have seen me every- day," she puzzled. From Pacifico 's standpoint, to see Emiliana meant to have her alone. He promptly made the distinction clear. "Could I talk to you about a single thing of interest with Ardelardo always here? And I asked you one day not to have him the next! But you refused," he complained. Emiliana had seen poor old Maria, the bino fiend, the town gambler, stake her last copper clacker on a deal of monte. She had seen the RENUNCIATION 129 cards turned without deciding the issue until but three were left. The agonized conflict on Maria's face between fear and hope had wrung a sob from Emiliana, and the child had prayed that the next card would be one of the two winners, not the sin- gle loser. Emiliana had seen the old hag's despair when the losing card turned. Though the woman always staggered away, she never wailed nor whimpered. Neither did Emiliana now betray her emotions by even so much as the moistening flicker of an eyelash, though she had just learned how Maria had felt; Pacifico loved his amuse- ments, his " boxing" and "shooting" and ' ' Laws. ' ' He missed the pleasure of talking about their attractions for him. Listlessly, the girl turned to the lad. Nothing in her quiet face re- vealed her pain. But if Pacifico had been versed in the smiles of girls, he would have found in hers the sadness of realization. Emiliana opened the discussion. "I can see the reason in spending time on the 'Laws.' And even on practise in shooting a gun," she remarked. "But what is the sense in the crazy jumping and hopping and flinging of arms which takes most of your time ? Dancing is more enjoyable. And then you might use that time for reading the books I like best." The familiar protest against his interest in the occupations so essential for his preparation to succeed El Dangeroso, restored in large measure Pacifico 's confidence and belief in Emiliana 's re- 130 THE SON OF PIO turn to the old order. He promptly advanced El Dangeroso's argument for boxing, the argu- ment which in the beginning of the lessons had overcome his own objections to being hit in the face and to tumbling involuntarily and forcibly on the floor. "The art of boxing makes Americans and the British superior to Spaniards and googoos. A googoo without a bolo, or a Spaniard without a rapier, is helpless, but an American is never with- out his fists. If your enemy does get you at a disadvantage, one good punch is enough for the kind of assassins a man runs into over here. If I am to become the 'new El Danger oso of Badi,' I must be an American in every way and ' carry a punch in either fist.' Oh, you will see," he boasted. In that reply, Emiliana saw neither the slight- est thought for the interests to which she was lim- ited, nor a willingness to sacrifice his pleasure and convenience for her as she sacrificed hers for him. But nevertheless, what his ambition suggested, always sent a real shiver of fear through her. It still did. She could feel, in imagination, all the tortures that Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam would inflict on any Filipino, especially on an ignorante, who dared to interfere as the real El Dangeroso did. And because she still felt that fear for the lad, her hand involuntarily clutched his arm, and she pleaded with him. RENUNCIATION 131 "You will give it up?" she begged. "El Dan- geroso is a white man. I know and you know that terror of the American's white skin charms Senor Lasam into abject helplessness, as the py- thon charms the wild boar. That is why our presi- dente fears to avenge El Dangeroso's suppression of tyranny in Badi; he fears the White-Skinned Recklessness. But your skin is brown, boy." Pacifico shook his arm free from the restraint of her hand, and squared his shoulders. "I am an American," he retorted. "I know the American Laws, and I shall know them bet- ter. I shall know them as well as El Dangeroso. Senor Lasam fears him who knows the Laws and bends before such wisdom. Think of all the times he has shown his fear of knowledge, all the times when El Dangeroso merely told him the Law. Have you forgotten that time long ago when Senor Lasam ordered us out of school, and then or- dered us back again? El Dangeroso only told him the Law," he claimed. Becoming enthused with his argument, Pacifico talked to a Silent Dreamer, who weighed and balanced all the phases of the lesson she had learned that day. At last he, too, dreamed. But he did not tell the girl of what. "To-morrow, I shall see you again?" he asked on leaving. She nodded. "And without Ardelardo?" he begged. 132 THE SON OF PIO "He will come, and it will be awkward to send him away." Her perversity alarmed Pacifico. * * But if he is here, we cannot talk about all the interesting things. It is just we two that can talk about them. If any one else heard us, and Ardelardo knows enough English to understand, everybody would know. We have always talked about them in English so that they would belong to us," the lad remonstrated. Emiliana smiled wistfully. They belonged to him, not to her ; to his life and to his future, not to hers. But while he had talked, too interested in his own argument to become conscious of her abstraction, the girl had reached a conclusion, a tentative conclusion that she might change upon further consideration, but a conclusion definite enough to .decide her immediate action. ' ' Secrets ? ' ' she enthused. For a second, she hid her eyes, while she brushed away two stray tears. With the tears, she brushed aside every sugges- tion of the blessed sweetness in the word, secrets. "Secrets in English?" Pacifico laughed in his own, old, boyish, confi- dent, happy way. "And without Ardelardo?" he repeated. Emiliana was not ready to close finally the road of escape should her future deliberations lead to a reversal of her present intention. "Perhaps," she conceded. And "perhaps" was all she would grant him. RENUNCIATION 133 After he had gone, Emiliana made her choice between the two inevitable alternatives which her woman's instinct outlined in the minutest detail. Love of herself pointed out the advisability of continuing her present policy, of receiving the at- tentions of many suitors for a while, of denying Pacifico any opportunity to talk to her. It had proved more than the means to forget, which she had planned it to be. Without her support and encouragement, without the confidence which he gained from talking to her, with doubt and uncer- tainty constantly filling his thoughts, his ambition would be destroyed by his own fears, his scholar- ship would fall away, and she would catch up with him. Perhaps they would both go to the Provin- cial High School, and she would win more of him than she had ever had. Or perhaps he would sink back into what he had been, and become another Pio, yet different, bigger, better; and then he would be ALL hers. The prospect thrilled her. But at last, she stared southward again toward Manila, toward the Wonderful City of beautiful senoritas who would fascinate him, toward that exile from which he would never return to her. And for the alternative, to buy him such a Future, she would have to listen with laughter and bril- liant gaiety and enthusiasm to " Secrets " that would constantly remind her of their price, while anguish of heart and despair, that should make her prematurely old, stabbed her. 134 THE SON OF PIO Emiliana buried her face in her arms, and cried. ' But an hour later, when her mother's scolding, upbraiding voice called her, she had decided : She loved Pacifico better than herself. Emiliana was glad that Pacifico did not sus- pect, because his blindness made the Price less than it might have been. Yet El Dangeroso's comprehension pleased her, for that, too, made everything easier. CHAPTER THE CROCODILE'S TOOTH fTlHE catastrophe began during the vacation, JL while Senor El Dangeroso was supposed to be in Manila. But its causes were traceable to Emiliana's perversity in flirting with Panfilo. The high caste, young principale resented the public ridicule heaped upon him because of her preference for the common ignorante, Pacifico. Perhaps, if Senor El Dangeroso had remained in Badi over the vacation, the lad, like his uncle, would have only groaned at such an insult from an ignorante girl. But his offended pride demand- ed a spectacular, public display of his triumph over Pacifico. He sought it. At the Town-Meet- ing on Sunday morning, he offered her a distinc- tion so great that he could conceive of no igno- rante maid refusing it ; he offered to make her his querida. Emiliana slapped his face and sneered at that "Custom," while Pacifico fought with his fists, like a mad American, until the Policia entangled him in a net. In revenge for Pacifico 's blows on the illustrious young man 's nose and eyes, in retaliation for the girl's taunts, the enraged youth found satisfac- 185 136 THE SON OF PIO tion in wrapping his hand in her long hair and in dragging her after him. Then it happened. From the heavens, from the bowels of the earth, from the mist, from the heart of the mob, from somewhere, El Dangeroso appeared. His bejuco snapped, and curled its heart of steel and its braid- ed deer-thong binding around Panfilo's hand, and stung and burned a welt like the trail of a centi- pede on human flesh. Panfilo screamed, while Senor Presidente pro- tested furiously and in the name of " Custom" against the unheard-of insult involved in thus publicly lashing a principale. El Dangeroso laughed, but there was no mirth in the eyes that bored through uncle and nephew. With much scolding, he continued with his illus- tration of the "American Custom" of spanking naughty boys, and thereby established a new "Myth" in Badi; of how a principale suffered humiliation on account of an ignorante woman. That evening, Pacifico expressed a fear of the consequences. "This was different from anything else you have done in Badi, sir," he stated. "You see, Emiliana is only a woman, and so it wasn't blow for blow." El Dangeroso dropped his pen, shoved his letter aside and stared at his servant. "Googoo!" he sneered. "It was worse than a blow. And say, kid, I thought I had knocked the THE CROCODILE'S TOOTH 137 last of that Googoo stuff* out of your head. But maybe you need a little bejuco medicine yourself," he suggested. Pacifico shrugged his shoulders. "But it is different," he insisted. "Senor La- sam will have to do something to restore the Fam- ily Prestige." " Don't you worry, kid, I'll take care of that 'family prestige,' " the American joked, "and his Porcininity knows it." Pacifico laid down the shoe-brush, and glanced up at his benefactor. "Perhaps now Senor Lasana will exert his full power to get revenge," he warned. "Oh, sir, if you would only wear some 'Charm!' " he begged. "A crocodile's tooth above the heart is best for the 'Evil-Eye,' but a ring made from its jaw-bone is very good, if worn on the thumb." El Dangeroso banished from his voice its habit- ual tone of mockery. "Well, sonny!" he soothed. "Now suppose just for the sake of argument, you know suppose I wanted a crocodile's tooth. Where would I get one? Go out and shoot a caiman, and play den- tist!" "Oh, no, no, senor," Pacifico implored. "Not to do zat! One must find the crocodile's head on the shore, sir, for the Father of Waters pursues and punishes with a Spell of Bad Luck, him who injures the Sacred Reptile. The Father of Wa- ters sends cholera, and diseases." 138 THE SON OF PIO "That is just it. If I'm badly off without the tooth, I would be in a worse fix if I killed a croco- dile to get one. So let's forget the trouble." Pacifico puzzled over the predicament. His hand slipped into his shirt, and gradually crept up the string of his own crocodile's tooth. For a moment, his fingers fluttered hesitantly about the knot But El Dangeroso's danger was not press- ing. He sighed, and fell to dreaming of all the evils from which that "Charm" had shielded him since his mother had tied it on him at his birth. Smallpox ! The Curse of God ! Cholera ! Pacifi- co shivered. And she would suffer from her Vis- ions, if he gave it away, even though the Ameri- can's ridicule were justified, and it were all a superstition. "But the Father of "Waters does send cholera," Pacifico argued. "If I'm fool enough to drink river- water with- out boiling it," the man agreed. "But I've got * Charms' in my medicine-chest that would be steel- spurs in the cock-pit when your 'Tooth' is a horny stub. And for a ' Charm' against the ' Evil Eye, ' or 'Curses,' or plots" he leaned forward, took his bejuco from the table, and shook it before his own admiring eyes, "give me THIS. Did you ever see any other 'Charm' work the 'Spells' you've seen this work? No, sir. And" tapping his belt "here is something that charms the fear of the devil into a principale's heart. Quit worrying about me, sonny. I'm loaded with 'Charms.' " THE CROCODILE'S TOOTH 139 Nevertheless, Pacifico's nervousness proved it- self well justified. Senor Lasam found an oppor- tunity for agitation against the American during a batte in honor of his birthday; and a possible agent of vengeance in his guest, Senor Provincial Governor. "The Senor Maestro is impossible," he ex- plained to Senor Excelenzia Basig. "He defies our ' Customs. ' He undermines our influence with the laborers. He would even assume our position in their regard. And can you believe it? He teaches ignorcmtes to consider themselves our equals; he preferred the ignorante, Pacifico Ba- liuag, to my nephew, Panfilo, for his muchacho, and now he makes a companion of his low-caste servant. ' ' The memory of the last few days drew deeper furrows on his brow. His ponderous, pompous pacing up and down the balcony of his home shook the whole building. "I have ignored his affronts, all of them, Senor Excelenzia," he declared, "but this last one I can- not pass over; it is a deadly personal insult, and the whole town is laughing at my nephew! But just let ME hear them!" he ejaculated. "What did the 'Pig of an American* do? Jesu, Santa Maria, y Josep! Have you not heard of that un- pardonable insult? NO? He whipped my nephew LIKE AN IGNORANTE because the boy would make a laborer's daughter his mistress. The 140 THE SON OF PIO devil! What better fortune could befall the woman ? The crazy American Pig ! ' ' But Senor Lasam 's resentment, his desire to present a strong case against the hated American, was not great enough to betray him into the error of mentioning any of the numerous episodes in which he himself had suffered ignominious treat- ment; he had no wish to remind his friends, to become again the butt of their ridicule. Senor Excelenzia was sympathetic, but Senor Caronan, Presidente of Mapia, objected to the pro- posed program. "The Provincial Officials may need the force of the 'Unanimous Accusation' in some matter of vital importance,*' he protested. "To use such a reclama now in this insignifiant affair will lessen its impressiveness in the future," he warned. ' ' Think of the insult ! ' ' Senor Lasam whined. "Panfilo put the insult upon your family by doing what was wrong," Senor Caronan insisted. "Only a laborer's daughter," sneered the Presi- dente of Badi. "She objected, is it not BO?" Senor Caronan retorted. Senor Lasam shrugged his shoulders. "Pacencia, senores, pacencia," purred Senor Excelenzia, and an appropriate silence immedi- ately ended the discord of controversy. "Pan- filo deserved a flogging; the * American Pig' caught the bungler," the wise man decided. "But we cannot permit the encouragement of upstarts. THE CROCODILE'S TOOTH 141 No I Is it not so? No? Such a dangerous prece- dent!" Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam was de- lighted with the outcome of his complaint. He chuckled and exulted as he prepared the Official Protest for the signatures of his colleagues in the Public Offices of North Province. Nor was he particularly disturbed by the refusal of such ame- ricanistas as Senor Caronan to sign the reclama. Thus it happened that Pacifico, upon returning from his next weekly visit home, walked into a scene of confusion. Broken boxes littered the floor, and everything was packed. The American lounged against the pile of trunks and cases, and frowned; and puffed his pipe, slowly, continu- ously, methodically. Pacifico preferred a good cigar, and the Ameri- can's poor taste puzzled him. But the pipe, like a barometer, always indicated the white man's moods. Perhaps that was due to the vigor with which his teeth clenched the stem, and to the set curve of his lips. Pacifico studied the pipe criti- cally, and found the reading to be : ' ' Change ; Stormy, to Settled Fight." And the atmosphere was one of foreboding. 11 Something is wrong?" the lad faltered. El Dangeroso's lips barely parted to emit the laconic snap, "A Complaint," and an accom- panying puff of smoke that shot up from the bowl of the pipe. 142 THE SON OF PIO "Jesu-u-u!" Pacifico exclaimed. So Senor Presidente and the principales were, after all, more powerful than El Dangeroso! That one word, "Reclama," explained it all. The princi- pales had revived the old " Custom" of Spanish Times. Such a Charge of Officiousness, with the signature of every native Official in the Province attached, had always secured the removal of a too efficient Government Agent! Then Pacifico looked into the Future, and saw the long line of endless retaliations that would come, of tyrannies upon tyrannies, until the Vision became unbearable. "The Government at Manila is unfair!" he cried out in protest. El Dangeroso laughed. "At first, I said, 'Damn the Googoo-Lover,' with all due respect to the 'Chief at Manila for hiking a white man on the word of googoos and without a hearing. But what is the use! It is settled; as I haven't 'succeeded in reaching the people in four years, I am impossible for this Province'; the 'unanimous consensus of intelli- gent opinion agrees to that.' I am 'moved to a sphere of possible usefulness, while a less objec- tionable person will be sent here.' And 'the Gov- ernment hopes that this experience will teach me to confine my efforts to my Official Duties.' And so everybody who can make a noise ought to be happy. What I am worth to the ignorantes of THE CROCODILE'S TOOTH 143 Badi doesn't matter," he growled: "Mr. Igno- rante can't squeal." The last of hope oozed from the lad's counte- nance, and his whole bearing wilted into one of despair. But El Dangeroso did not see. The white man's scowl faded into a smile, a lingering, caressing, contemplative smile, and a mischiev- ous gleam in his blue eyes betokened a certain satisfaction, a certain elation, even assurance. "Some day the Googoo-Lover in Manila may find out what a 'hard-head' I am, when it comes to learning some lessons, but I guess not," he drawled. "Me and Bejuco have been mighty busy ; paying our farewell respects to our prvnci- pale friends. We left our 'cards,' and I'm think- ing the gentlemen will tote Bejuco' s around for a couple of weeks, at least, even if they should forget my promises. Senor Presidente was very chesty, very condescending, like a fighting-cock that has just won his combate in the cock-pit, and so sorry to lose us. Of course, it is contrary to the Googoo 'Rules of the Game,' but we pre- sented his Corpulency with stacks of good advice and a lambasting that ought to keep him in bed for a week. I didn't tell him why; but he seemed to know. He won't forget. And he knows what I'll do to him when I get back, if he doesn't be- have himself; I did tell him that. And I rather think he will figure on what will happen to him, if he reports to Manila, for he didn't expect such an aftermath as this to follow his 'redama.' " 144 THE SON OF PIO Pacifico shook his head despondently. He was interested in Badi, not in what the "Chief" at Manila might learn, or might not learn. "There is a difference now, sir; you are gone," he reminded his benefactor. "Now Senor La- sam's courage will tower very loftily, like the cocoanut palm, after this victory over so redoubt- able an opponent as El Dangeroso. Oh, if I had only given you the 'Charm!' " he grieved. The lad's strained voice, his quivering face, as well as the remorseful wish, revealed the full force of the fear in his agitation. El Dangeroso understood. The white man gave the only assur- ance he could. "No, Senor Lasam did not get me; the Govern- ment at Manila just misunderstood. Senor Pres- idente hasn't made a real gain, and he knows it. As he is a REAL Googoo, and I showed him I wasn't afraid of him, he will decide it is policy to be afraid of me. And you know how that is. I was thinking of you when I fixed him. Besides, as soon as I am clear of this muss, you are going to 'The States' with me." The boy turned his face to the wall, and laid his forehead against an arm. Somehow, he sensed that events would so shape themselves that El Dangeroso would never return, that this would be a final farewell. The big, big loss smothered all other emotions, and he could not articulate his thanks for the promised opportunity; and be- THE CROCODILE'S TOOTH 145 sides, even at the best, he would have given every future prospect for his friend. Hours later, the silent, hot-eyed lad still strolled along the bank high above the casco which bore his patron, and rested his heavy eyes on the be- loved figure. The swish of the down-rushing cur- rent as it parted from the bow of the boat and lapped the sides, the sharp, hollow-toned suction of the waters as they climbed the slender poles with which the slow progress up stream was gained, the creak of the timbers beneath the straining feet of the boatmen plodding in endless rotation from bow to stern, sounded a bitter dirge. But the white man's sympathy prompted a con- tinuous, bantering monologue that comforted the boy and dulled the sharp pain of his loss. Pa- cifico halted only when a mass of water, piled up by a benjl in the river, checked the slow advance of the casco against the stream and forced the boatmen to swing across to the calm of the other bank. The lad hesitated a moment. Then he delib- erately unfastened the string of his "Charm," and with an air of renunciation, tossed the Crocodile 's Tooth at the feet of his friend. An hour afterwards, when the casco had crawled to the final bend in the river, Pacifico put his hands, tube-like, to his mouth, and called one full- throated "Adiosl" to the silhouette whose up- raised arm waved an army campaign-hat. CHAPTER VIII SO MANY PEETTY MABKS PACIFICO sauntered along the backward trail, and brooded. He held no illusions concerning Senor Lasam's probable action in the immediate future. As he knew ' * Custom" and the "Game of Revenge, " it would be necessary for Pacifico Baliuag, son of Pio Baliuag, who was a laborer of the hills, to leave school at once, and himself become a laborer in the fields. But if no more terrible retribution for his friendship with the American were visited upon him, he would be thankful. Pacifico paused. He WAS thankful; Emili- ana was safe. In establishing the "new Myth of Badi," Senor El Dangeroso had secured her im- munity from Panfilo, for a time, at least. And that, though it were but a respite from the dan- ger, was worthy of devout thanks. Senor Lasam would never countenance any aggression on Pan- filo 's part that would remind the people of the ridicule that the white man had heaped upon the * ' family prestige. ' ' What the more distant future might bring, would depend very largely upon the caliber and comprehension of the new American Teacher of Badi. 146 SO MANY PRETTY MARKS 147 Bnt what would the New American be? If he should prove another El Dangeroso, or even one like Senor del Monte, the new Teacher at the Mountain Town, who dared, Report and Ru- mor said, then all would be well with the ignorantes. But if, like the Coward of Dacal, he should accept many gifts of chicken and eggs, there would be no limits to the tyrannies of the principales, unless Pacifico halted, and stared at a vague, flicker- ing Vision. As he struck the balance between the old factors of life in Badi, and the new, the Pic- ture took form, a fascinating sweep of possibili- ties. El Dangeroso, the White American, was gone; Pacifico, the Brown American, was left! And there would be many tyrannies in Badi! unless! Unless the time had come, the time to put into practise the old childish game of "the new El Dangeroso of Badi!" Pacifico appreciat- ed the value of secrecy, of plots, of intrigues. They could make possible contingencies that publicity would destroy. If Pacifico had known the hail with which the French of monarchical days had greeted the death of one king and the ascension of a successor, he would have cried, "El Dange- roso is dead. Long live El Dangeroso." It was night before the "new El Dangeroso of Badi," a young, square-shouldered, determined Brown American reached the Landing at Badi. There he came upon a large crowd of people gathered about the monte game of Senor Brown, 148 THE SON OF PIO a well-known itinerant American gambler. Paci- fico wondered why the white man sat at the very edge of the bank with his back to the river, when so many more could have bet on the cards if he had dealt them at some point where a full circle of people could have crushed about the make-shift table. Although Pacifico had no money and could not himself enjoy the thrills of betting upon the chances of this or that favorite card, he stopped to watch the game. For a time, Senor Presidente partook of some rich pickings from the white gambler's wealth. "A fair deal, a very fair deal," he compliment- ed, and Senor Brown nodded thanks for the en- dorsement. Almost immediately afterwards, Se- nor Lasam made several exceptionally large con- tributions to the American's winnings, and in his effort to recover the loss of a bag of pesos, became a reckless plunger. From El Dangeroso, Pacifico had heard of Se- nor Brown's skill in manipulating the cards to his own advantage. Though the lad could enjoy Senor Lasam 's losses, could even regard them as a just retribution, he resented seeing his ignorante fellows fleeced of their small savings through fol- lowing the disastrous example of their presidente. * ' Fools ! " he chided in warning. ' ' The Ameri- can cheats and any but a 'hard-head* would know it." SO MANY PRETTY MARKS 149 Senor Lasam saw in the comment a contemptu- ous aspersion on his own gullibility, and flared up. "A very fair deal," he promptly reiterated. The exposure would not have been so shameful, if Senor Brown had not thrown his money-sack, his cards, the table, down the river-bank, and fol- lowed those essentials of his profession to a safe retreat upon his casco, which was then quickly shoved out into mid-stream. Senor Lasam squirmed under the sting of the disgrace. The American's action gave most con- clusive, most impressive proof of the truth of Pacifico's charges. There could be no argument about it, no difference of opinion, no clouding of the issue by which Senor Presidente could save his face. In a final effort to distract the people's attention from the extent of that impressiveness, Senor Lasam stood on the bank for many minutes, and puffed an exchange of compliments with the gambler, curse for curse, taunt for taunt, sneer for sneer. But the American, first having com- mented upon his antagonist's excessive abdomi- nal girth and upon certain other physical pecu- liarities, finally subdued his opponent with the apt retort, "The 'Pig of an American' bows to Your Illustrious Porcininity. " Although each individual, contemptuous guffaw of ridicule stabbed him, Senor Lasam conducted his retreat from the scene of his utter humiliation without the slightest abatement of his dignity. 150 THE SON OF PIO But he realized the serious nature of the crisis, and swore many lurid threats of vengeance upon the officious ignorante, Pacifico Baliuag. Next day, Pedro Tallud accused Pacifico Ba- liuag of the theft of five pesos. At the trial before Senor Justice of the Peace, Pedro swore that he saw the crime committed, and El Sargento de Po- licia swore to it, and many others among Senor Lasam's ignorante henchmen swore to it. And so everybody understood. Pacifico called many witnesses to prove his alibi, to prove that, early in the day, he had set out with El Dangeroso and had not returned until night. Juan Danga, Emiliana's father, first took the stand. Juan remembered Senor Lasam's mortgage upon his little piece of land, upon his maturing crop, remembered, too, the tales El Sargento had told him, and paused before the irrevocable words were spoken. His eyes, traveling about the room, fastened upon Senor Presidente's impas- sive, ominous mask of a face. Danga studied his toes, fidgeted, and tried to avoid his master's eyes, but those eyes seemed to hunt him. He glanced at Pacifico, dumbly, pleadingly, and prayed silently to "Jesu, Santa Maria, y Josep" for strength to speak the truth. Senor Presidente moved. To Juan's overwrought imagination, it seemed that Senor Lasam was coming in terrible might to punish him for his disloyalty, to rob him of his SO MANY PRETTY MARKS 151 land. His tongue moistened his lips, and he fal- tered his perjured oath. Then in an agony of re- morse, the shriveled, little old ignorante slunk away. Angry, disgusted, Pacifico glanced after him. Then he turned toward his other witnesses. In their shrunken attitudes, in the shame of their fur- tive glances and averted faces, he read fear. For a full minute, Pacifico stared. Slowly, his arms sank to his sides, the bright gleam of anticipated vindication faded from his eyes and the full weight of despair settled in them. He acknowledged the terror of the vengeance in the shadow of which he stood. "As God wills it," he muttered, and subsided. Senor Presidente gave Pedro Tallud a peso, and congratulated Senor Justice on the sentence, "A public flogging." Pacifico cowered. Never again could he hold up his head among his fellows! He tried to protest, to claim the protection of the American Law, but the words stuck in his throat. His hand felt under his shirt for the talisman that was gone. Perhaps he cursed his folly for parting with that powerful " Charm." Or perhaps he vented his despair in wild, raving denunciations of his ambition, his education, his knowledge of English, his trust in the American Government ; the things that had deceived him into a hope that an igno- rante could escape the die of life as God had cast it in the chance of birth. Or perhaps an endless 152 THE SON OF PIO rotation of mental images, El Dangeroso and Senor Caronan of Mapia, El Dangeroso and Se- nor Caronan, the false friends whose precepts and example had caused his downfall, flitted before his eyes. Pacifico surrendered his belief to the truth of his people's axiom, "God has willed whatever is. ' ' On the day following Pacifico 's punishment, Panfilo went to Mapia. The Official Interpreter of Badi felt it incumbent upon himself to boast to one americanista, Senor Presidente Caronan of Mapia, of how his uncle had revenged himself upon another American Supporter. "So the ignorante upstart, Pacifico, received a well-merited flogging, " the exultant youth proudly announced, and marched out of Senor Caronan 's presence. Senor Caronan had heard of the Good Book : "An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth?" Senor Caronan could comprehend such logic. So could any man. Senor Lasam? Perhaps. And "Pride goeth before a fall?" Perhaps. Senor Caronan scratched the bald spot on his pate, and sent for a trusty henchman. "Are you an Ilocano? No," he inquired. "Wen, senor." The Ilocano heard of Pacifico 's fate with impas- sive countenance. "Did Panfilo insult your daughter?" Senor Caronan asked. "The Americans would regard SO MANY PRETTY MARKS 153 that offense sufficient provocation for a father's retribution." His auditor considered. "Wen, senor," he agreed. "Are you going to waylay Panfilo, and flog him as he deserves, as thoroughly as Pacifico was flogged t" The "Wen, senor" was prompt. The henchman retired, and Senor Caronan en- joyed a lonely smile. That night, Senor Lasam received a dilapidated Panfilo, together with explanations and condo- lences of a sarcastic nature, delivered by kindness of Senor Caronan, Presidente of Mapia. Perhaps Senor Lasam saw the point, as the people did. At least, he called many maledictions upon the wily head of the quiet, sinister traitor to the principals caste. And after he had thoroughly estimated every danger involved in the action, Senor Presi- dent Don Miguel Lasam complained to the Amer- ican Chief of Constabulary, T T ho investigated. With many a shrug of the shoulder, with many a conciliatory bow, the peaked, thin-faced, little Senor Caronan explained to Senor Capitdn Ameri- cano. "I am sorry it happened, Senor Capitdn. It was unfortunate. But my people are ignorant, and their instinct is to defend their own as best they may. Many people heard Panfilo offer the man's daughter a deadly insult foolish boy and the father in his righteous anger forgot himself. 154 THE SON OF PIO I scarcely think it will pay Senor Lasam to press the matter. But I can produce the girl's father, if you so desire, senor," he offered. "The man has been tried, and acquitted." At first, Senor Capitan was dubious. But Senor Caronan 's guileless brown eyes looked frankly up into his own. And Senor Caronan was a good presidente, whose ignorcmtes loved Mm, and a just presidente, and a loyal American Supporter. Also, the Chief of Constabulary remembered that El Dangeroso had punished Panfilo for a similar of- fense. He so reported to Senor Lasam, who un- derstood, grinned, and submitted. On the second day after Pacifico's punishment, Emiliana, greatly excited, burst into the shack of Pio Baliuag. In a sentence, she told them the news, told them that nobody remembered Pacifico's disgrace. Wide-eyed, Pacifico struggled to comprehend the true import of it all. "Now, everybody is talking about Senor Presi- dente 's shame, ' ' she exulted, dancing and clapping her hands, "and Panfilo is very beautiful, with so many pretty marks on his back," she laughed, her eyes snapping her vindictive satisfaction. "Jesu-Uru!" Pacifico drawled, a certain quality of wonder in the tone of his voice. "So it seems that an ignorante MAY hope, by grace of Senor Caronan of Mapia I And EVEN oppose one Senor Presidente with the protection of another?" Then he pondered for a time. SO MANY PRETTY MARKS 155 'We shall see," ho mused. But the girl, disappointed by his lack of exulta- tion, chilled by his abstraction, hurt by his indif- ference toward herself, caught her lip between her teeth and stole out to be alone. ' CHAPTER IX THE MYSTEEY OF THE AMERICAN DEVIL SIX months after the departure of El Dcmge- roso, Senor Lasam was terror-stricken. A new Force had appeared in Badi, a sinister, mys- terious, elusive "Influence" without apparent sub- stance or body. But the intent of the malignant Power was evident enough, for every act insti- gated by it was directed against Senor Lasam, and injured no other principale. In the first place, the new "Hocano Combina- tion of Tobacco Growers," an organization masked in the innocent guise of a commercial venture and originally composed of wealthy Iloca- nos and independent small growers, was busily engaged in paying off the debts of Senor Lasam *s peons, taking into its membership the ignorantes thus liberated and enjoying the future control of their crops. In the second place, but most signifi- cant fact of all, the Combination confined its ac- tivities to Senor Lasam's peons. In the continua- tion of this policy of attacking the very founda- tion of his income, Senor Lasam foresaw financial ruin. Prospective bankruptcy terrified him. In his effort to protect himself from further 156 encroachment by the Combination, Senor Lasam multiplied the debts of his remaining peons by four, and thereby brought upon himself a catas- trophe. Only a diabolical ingenuity could have prompted the reply of the Combination. Senor Lasam *s heaviest debtor, the peon Gerardo Ba- bas, hailed his master into Court for an account- ing, not into the Justice's Court at Badi, which Senor Lasam could dominate, but into the Insular Court of First Instance. The American Judge not only decided every point of contention in Ge- rardo 's favor, but also, as a result of disallowing many customary charges, reduced the original debt by more than one half, and advised the Senor American Provincial Treasurer to see that all of Senor Presidente's debtors present their cases for review. Afterwards, the Combine was able to free twice as many peons with its money, for Senor Lasam considered it wise to accept a just payment without resorting to the Courts. In desperation, Senor Presidente planned to dis- cover who among the Combination's anembers was the instigator of the policy, to take ven- geance upon him, to destroy him. But no member of the Combination had ever exhibited the sagacity or grasp of affairs pos- sessed by the " Influence," which directed and con- trolled the organization. Senor Lasam consid- ered the possibility that some American was con- cerned. But the secrecy, the impenetrable mys- tery surrounding everything it did, even had there 158 THE SON OF PIO been an American in or near Badi, contradicted such a supposition. Nevertheless, one event seemed to confirm it. Just after he had announced a "Special Poll Tax," by which he had hoped to recoup some of his heavy losses, a number of Placards, giving the American Law in poor Iba- nag, had mysteriously appeared at every corner of the Plaza. Those Placards had compelled Se- nor Lasam to abandon that plan. And the Ibanag of those Placards was such as an American who knew a little of the dialect might have compiled after much laborious translation! Senor Lasarn dismissed a momentary suspicion of Joseph Ferguson, the new American Teacher at Badi. Senor Lasam always had a sneer for Senor Ferguson; that white man was a "Hard- head" and a coward. But the thought of him sug- gested El Dangeroso, memory of whom filled Se- nor Lasam with regret; El Dangeroso' s open ag- gressions, against which a man could take precau- tions, had been far less obnoxious and injurious than the secret, sinister, malignant attack of this "Influence." More and more, Senor Lasam speculated upon the past, and in doing so, became obsessed with a suspicion, a suspicion which facts seemed to confirm. Throughout the time in which El Dange- roso had been in Badi, during the interval follow- ing his removal, and since the arrival of Senor Ferguson, Senor Lasam believed he could discover signs of a singular coincidence. The more Senor MYSTERY OF AMEEICAN DEVIL 159 Lasam considered the situation the greater grew his superstitious dread, until he became thoroughly convinced that some inimical * ' Influence ' ' had pur- sued him for years, first manifesting itself through El Dangeroso and later through the pres- ent insidious "Spirit," perhaps an "American Devil" bent on his ruin in revenge for the re- moval of its agent, El Dangeroso. Facts seemed to confirm his fear. There were all his misfortunes during El Dangeroso 's time. Nor had the departure of that American resulted in as happy conditions as Senor Lasam had ex- pected, although the immediate appearances had seemed to indicate that it would. There had been some very apparent advantages. As Pacifico Baliuag, following a visit from Senor Lasam, had disappeared from his usual haunts in town, Senor Ferguson remained ignorant of the lad's existence, and Senor Presidente no longer needed endure the affront of that upstart's pres- ence in Badi. The "New Myth" concerning Pan- filo 's humiliation was forgotten, for Emiliana hid herself away so effectually that not even a glimpse of her served to refresh the people's recollection of the episode, while Panfilo sensibly conferred his attentions elsewhere, after Senor Lasam had reprimanded him for proposing to take the woman following the American's departure. The only disconcerting factor in that period had come from Senor American Provincial Treasur- er's unexpected weekly visits to Badi, a "Custom" 160 THE SON OF PIO he kept up until Senor Ferguson arrived. Of course, the restraint of those visits had confined Senor Lasam's activities to legal channels, and the cessation of the "Custom" was welcomed. Senor Lasam always understood the reason for those visits, not the Official Purpose assigned by the American, but their real object. When Senor Ferguson proved a most tractable "hard-head," Senor Lasam had assumed that he would at last be free from surveillance, free to make the most of his coveted opportunities. In truth, he had laughed at Senor American Provin- cial Treasurer for being so gullible as to believe that such a "hard-head" as Senor Ferguson would be able to watch so shrewd a man as Senor Presi- dente Don Miguel Lasam of Badi. To do that would require a Senor El Dangeroso, or a Senor American Provincial Treasurer, or a Senor del Monte. But now it was different. Senor Lasam laughed at nobody, least of all at Senor American Pro- vincial Treasurer. At last, he understood why those visits had ended. True, they had ceased with the arrival of Senor Ferguson, but also, the disconcerting operations of the Combination had begun at exactly the same time ; and therein lay the convincing coincidence. In reality, those visits of the Senor American Provincial Treasurer had ended just as soon as the "American Devil" was prepared to institute his direct attack! MYSTERY OF AMERICAN DEVIL 161 Much as Senor Lasam puzzled over the predica- ment in which he found himself, much as terror prodded Mm into efforts to discover the physical agent who made it possible for the "Devil" to gain such intimate knowledge of his affairs and plans, Senor Lasam was nonplussed. Senor Fer- guson was beyond suspicion. Not only was that American incompetent to be the spy of the " Amer- ican Devil," but also his movements were so automatically and satisfactorily regulated and known that he could not succeed in spying. Ex- cept for a few duty-calls upon principales and for occasional attendance at social functions, the American never mingled with the people, but im- prisoned himself in his shack when he was not confined to school. Saturdays and Sundays, he generally visited the new Senor of the Mountains. The mysterious element in it all was what terri- fied Senor Lasam. The best he could do was to buy amulets and charms, to pray to his Patron Saint, to hope against hope that the "American Devil" would not suspect his contemplated coup in the matter of the disfranchised voters; and to thank Jesu, Santa Maria, y Josep because the "American Devil" had not sent the new Senor del Monte to Badi, for rumors had it that that American was just such another obnoxious freak as El Dangeroso. Senor Lasam shuddered at the mere thought of what such an American would stir up, now that the wrath of the "American Devil" wa& so thoroughly aroused. And yet, 162 THE SON OP PIO sometimes, when Senor Lasam thought that the "American Devil" might sleep, and forget, if snch an American were in Badi, he almost longed for Senor del Monte, or the old days of El Dan- geroso. CHAPTER X A SONG BY THE WAYSIDE r I WERE is a quality about the Philippines that JL is oppressive to the white man, a burdensome something that has never been named nor de- scribed. The Old-Timer meets IT with a calm re- serve that envelopes him in a veil almost impene- trable, while IT drives the New-Comer to frequent tramps over long, terrible trails in his search for the companionship of his own kind of people. Sometimes, IT drives a white man to other things. Joseph Ferguson felt that spell of the Philip- pines, felt it intensely. By the time that each Fri- day came, he could scarcely restrain his impa- tience until the closing hour of school. Frequent- ly, he made no attempt to, but dismissed his class- es ahead of time, in order that he might increase by an hour or two his weekly visit to his colleague at the Mountain Town. Not that he found any great pleasure in the companionship of him whom the natives called, Senor del Monte, nor that they had any interests in common other than that of race and occupation, and in the latter, they held antagonistic points of view on everything, nor 163 164 THE SON OF PIO that they were able to attain such an intimacy as is often possible between men of conflicting ideals but situated as were they. On the whole, Joseph Ferguson really disapproved of the American Teacher of the Mountain Town, even resented in a member of the teaching profession certain ele- ments of uncouthness in the man. But he was some one to talk to, he was a white man, and his conversation was diverting. Other than that Senor del Monte was an Old- Timer, Ferguson had learned nothing about him, either by direct questions, or from others. Usually, Ferguson began the weekly visit with an enumeration of his immediate difficulties, fol- lowed his plaints with petulant retorts to the Old-Timer's philosophic platitudes, and finally lapsed into a discontented, gloomy silence, broken only by an occasional monosyllabic reply, until del Monte had wheedled him out of his mood. On his first trip to the Mountain Town after hearing of Senor Lasam's belief in an "American Devil," Ferguson's silent mood was tinged by a deeper gloom than usual, a gloom so intense that the Old-Timer was unable to prod him out of it. It Had been like that for two days. The Old-Timer leaned back in his chair, and re- garded his visitor curiously, pityingly, for Fer- guson still stared out into the distance, even after the last sally. "'What is a man going to do to help a fellow that has IT as bad as you," the Old-Timer mut- A SONG BY THE WAYSIDE 165 tered to himself; "you're the first fellow I ever saw that didn't listen to THAT yarn." Ferguson started, and again took up the bur- den of conversation. "How is that?" he asked. "So you have been here five years," he mused. Something in his host's manner, a peculiar gleam in the gray eyes, a tremor of the thin lips, like an unborn smile, seemed to accuse him of a lapse of attention; he assumed an air that simu- lated an animated interest in the comment which he had not heard. "Five years," he repeated, "five years." The Old-Timer smiled. "All of that, and my cocoanut palms in Batan- gas have just begun to bear; it will be another six or eight years before I can go home to 'The States' like a gentleman." "How can you face IT?" the New-Comer puz- zled. "I have been in the Philippines but six months, and I'm counting the days until my con- tract with the Government expires, and I can make my get-away to the little old United States." "Forget IT, pard, forget IT," the Veteran advised. " I Ve been through IT, and I know how you feel, but forget IT." "I can't," Ferguson wailed, "I can't forget IT, Jackson; IT is with me every second of the day, and I don't know what IT is." Jackson shrugged his shoulders, like a Fili- pino. 166 THE SON OF PIO "And nobody knows what IT is ; IT is the Name- less IT. But IT breaks a white man unless he beats IT, and the only way to beat IT is to forget IT. Get your mind on something else. Then the Silence won't bother you so." "The Silence!" Ferguson exclaimed. "Sure, pard, the Silence," Jackson asserted. "Did you ever walk for hours through the busiest street of a strange city, and feel the Silence? The clatter of the wagons on the cobbles, the rum- ble of the cars, the chatter of the mob, the patter of the feet, the multitude of the noises there drown the Voice of God Almighty; He can't talk to you in a strange city the way He does in the forest, and fields, and mountains, or on the sea. Or call it solitude instead of silence, if you want. And this is worse. The chatter there is a white man's tongue, while this here" his hand seemed to brush aside all thought of recognizing such a lan- guage as speech "this is jabber, jabber, jabber, and a nasal twang. This is Silence. Get your mind on something, before IT drives you to bino, or to a native woman." "You mean a fellow is lonesome here?" Fergu- son questioned. Jackson shrugged his shoulders again. "As you will," he indifferently agreed. "My God! You don't expect a white man to mix with these dirty googoos, do you?" Ferguson objected. His mouth curled in a sneer. "They are animals! The lazy, shiftless beasts haven't A SONG BY THE WAYSIDE 167 ambition enough to take advantage of their oppor- tunities. The Government is just wasting money in trying to educate them. And a white man can't trust the treacherous, cruel devils! Look at their amusements ! Cock-pit, and all that ! The fellows that try to tell me how much their kids learn, make me sick. I know all about the damned googoos!" "Possibly," Jackson conceded. "I don't. Though I've learned something about them since I've been here, I expect to keep on learning until I leave the country. You are the first fellow I ever met that was sure he knew them, and I never met the only guy that everybody said DID know them; he left North Province just before I was sent up here about the time you reached Manila from 'The States,' " he quietly remarked. Ferguson flushed. "Oh, well, I guess I did put it rather strong," he owned. "Old Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam of my town is a rather decent sort, I'll admit; fat and greasy, a bit repulsive, especially when he is munching buja and the red saliva trickles down his chin, or his hand smears it over his cheek. But he is kind-hearted; I don't know how I would live if it wasn't for the chickens and eggs he sends me." "Grub isn't everything," Jackson hinted. * ' Good grub amounts to a whole lot in this coun- try," Ferguson argued, just a tinge of belliger- ency, perhaps of self-defense, in his voice and 168 THE SON OF PIO manner. ' * The gambler, Brown, know Mm, don 't you? told me his Hg reason for keeping a native woman was that his own cooking made him sick; : dysentery, and the like.'* Jackson grinned. "A white man does hate to confess that he ia beaten," he suggested, "even by IT." "How about you?" Ferguson retorted. Again, the Old-Timer shrugged his shoulders. But he stuck his fingers in his trousers pockets and gripped the cloth between thumb and fore- finger, as though he would crush something. "That is different. I've been through IT, through the very worst of IT, and I know, ' ' he declared, the snappish curtness of the words re- vealing a resentment which his habitual compo- sure could not hide. The New Teacher glanced at his host, curiously, inquiringly, expectantly. The Old-Timer met the gaze defiantly, answer- ing the question in Ferguson's eyes with a "Well? THAT matter is my affair, and nobody's busi- ness, but" The appeal of his visitor's imma- ture, petulant face recalled him to his normal composure "after all, perhaps it might do you some good." He turned toward a photograph on the wall, and stared at it. "The 'Girl' was nine- teen. She expected to wait three years, and I count- ed the days. But I had something to think about, and plan for ; a home, and all that. Then I asked her to wait another two years, until the cocoa- A SONG BY THE WAYSIDE 169 nuts should bear; she married 'the other fel- low/ " he faced his guest, "and I don't blame her." He paused, while some vague regret shad- owed his parched face. "They say the Tropics get such a grip on a fellow who has been here as long as I have that he can't break away. Perhaps I'll never go back to 'The States,' except for a visit, to see how the guy treats her, and well I 'm not counting the days any more. The Trop- ics ARE peculiar; they take something out of a fellow that he can't ever get back, "You have hit IT," Ferguson interrupted; "every fellow loses something out of his make- up after he has been here long enough; he gets to be a regular Filipino in some ways. Why just last week I had an experience that. shows it. Talk about ingratitude ! A dirty bum came to my house in the middle of that big storm ; soaked, ragged, unkempt, with a beautiful 'hard-luck story' ; said he was an Army teamster tramping from Caua- yan to Aparri. The pup ! I took him in, fed him, gave him a pair of leather boots good ones, a suit of clothes, a whole outfit. And when I caught the sneak picking my pockets in the middle of the night, the best excuse he could give me was, 'Bino. Man '11 do anything for bino, pard. He's GOT to d( something to forget IT.' Now, that was ." "Pretty near the truth," Jackson in turn inter- rupted, "you have to forget IT. Nose around in your town, and see what you can find. I'll bet you'll stumble on plenty of excitement." 170 THE SON OF PIO "In Badi!" Ferguson exclaimed. ''Have you been in Badi?" "Perhaps, if I tell you something about your predecessor, Johnny Lanagan, the Filipinos called him, El Dangeroso, " "That Brute!" Ferguson sneered. "I heard all about him in Manila ; the Government deported him," he explained. "And Senor Presidente La- sam has told me the details of the cruelties he practised on these people. Beating them! Gad! A fine example of a white man ! The kind of De- generate a man gets to be if he stays in this country too long. No, sir, old boy, you are wrong ; the quicker a fellow can get away from here the better for him." The Old-Timer smiled. "I don't want to hurry you, pard," he apolo- gized, "but the sun is riding low, and it is a long tramp to Badi. And for a parting shot: Forget IT, find an Interest in the people, and throw your- self into that." By the time that the New Teacher at Badi had reached the foot of the last hills between his sta- tion and the Mountain Town, the "Nameless IT" had resumed undisputed sway over his being. Hard, strangled sobs wracked his muscular frame. As unconscious of the dank chill as he had been of the parching heat on the bare hills along the backward trail, he trudged on beneath the over- hanging branches of the scant jungle-growth. "What is the use of clubbing a man with advice, A SONG BY THE WAYSIDE 171 and jabbing him with suggestive warnings against bino and Googoo women, when all he needs is a little sympathy," he expostulated in protest at the quality of the consolation he had received from his colleague. But before he could continue with his mental arraignment of the Old-Timer, the words of "My Bonnie" broke on his surprised ears. Startled, he halted and listened. "... lies over the ocean; My Bonnie lies over the sea, Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me. Bring back, bring back, Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me; Bring back, oh, bring back, Bring back my Bonnie to me." There were two voices, one rich and full, the other clear and sweet I He gulped twice. "A white woman in this god-forsaken hole!" he ejaculated. He raced down the gentle incline of the trail to the end of the brush ahead, and shading his eyes from the glare of the sun dancing just above the dark mist on the tips of the Western Mountains, hunted over the plain for the singers. Perhaps the tears blinded him. But upon the field's whole, bare expanse, he could distinguish nothing but a carabao and its riders, a young Filipino couple whose bodies swayed in unison with the animal's lumbering gait. Disappointed, puzzled, he started toward the natives. 172 THE SON OP PIO "What is the use of asking them about the sing- ers?" he muttered. "Either they will 'no sabe,' or they will tell me any lie they think will please me." Nevertheless, he answered the wave of the lad's hand, and hurried his pace, and gritted his teeth at the leisurely, lumbering approach of the ox- like animal. His nerves aquiver with anxious impatience and tensed to the utter limit of endur- ance, he growled, "Hurry up." "You, sir, are far from the usual courses of travel. Can I direct you ? ' ' the lad hailed. The rich, full voice and perfect pronunciation startled the American out of his mood. Speech- less, he stared. "That pair of smiling dubs!" he muttered. His surprise, his disgust melted into wonder. "Were you singing?" he demanded. Sitting well forward on the carabao, one bare leg resting along the animal's neck, a tattered elbow on his knee, his face tilted sidewise against his hand, his dilapidated straw hat awry, his twinkling brown eyes looking squarely into the American's, the lad grinned in frank enjoyment of the white man's astonishment. "I am Pacifico, son of Pio Baliuag, who is a laborer of the hills, and I went to the School in Badi for four years while he whom we called El Dangeroso was the American Teacher. So Emiliana and I always sing American songs," he explained. "I was the Great American's mucha- A SONG BY THE WAYSIDE 173 cho in the Days of El Dangeroso, and they were wonderful days, sir. In those times, an ignorante had justice, while now, when Senor Presidente orders us out of School, none dare disobey. You do not understand why that should be, sir. It is because the New American Teacher is different." His voice trailed into silence, and a quizzical smile settled on his face as his mind wandered in rev- erie. The "New American Teacher" fidgeted. "How so?" he finally inquired. Pacifico started. "How so?" he repeated. "You see, El Dangeroso was brave, very brave, and he was terrible in his anger, and so the prin- cipales, even Senor Presidente, feared to inflict any tyranny on an ignorante/' he elucidated under the stimulus provided by an interested auditor. "It was always so. And El Dangeroso was wise; he knew all things, and none could fool him. He understood how to learn of tyranny nobody needed to tell him when tyranny was about. How?" he paused while he smiled "Who knows? God willed it, and so he learned." The lad's smile broadened into a grin. "And then the sting of his beautiful loejuco, a marvelous whip, afforded the people much unusual diversion to see a principale writhe in public and squirm for his sins under the biting caress of the lash, like a common ignorante who has offended his master, like me, is a most just spectacle, sir, a most amus- ing spectacle. ' ' And then he recounted a long list 174 THE SON OF PIO of incidents illustrative of his claim. "So there was no tyranny in the Days of El Dangeroso; Senor Lasam's many gifts of eggs and chickens but warned El Dangeroso of a plan for some new tyranny," he concluded. "But this new Teach- er" Pacifico paused, and mournfully shook his head. "Yes," the American urged, eager to hear the verdict upon himself, though fearing it, ' l this new Teacher at Badi?" Pacifico laughed. "Many chickens and eggs have I carried to Badi, by order of Senor Presidente. This new Teacher is a coward ; he must be, for no one fears him. Is it not so I No? And he is a 'hard-head' that Senor Presidente ridicules. Any one can fool him." Pacifico waved the white man's protest aside. "Oh, I know," he insisted, "for we have plenty of tyranny now. It is the Truth ; El Dange- roso himself told me so, and even I know that he is a coward," he claimed. "He has shown it." This new interpretation of facts with which he was in part familiar, as well as the frank estimate of himself, impressed Joseph Ferguson. To be hailed as the Upholder of Justice, to be remem- bered as the Preserver of the Helpless, were cer- tainly desirable tributes to a man's work; perhaps such success would justify even the adoption of El Dangeroso' s tactics. And more, Ferguson rec- ognized the fact that, in an aim to win a similar regard from the people, he would find just such an A SONG BY THE WAYSIDE 175 Interest in Life as the Old-Tinier had advised him to seek. He was tempted, tempted to the point of preparing the way for a new attitude on his own part. "Perhaps this New Teacher doesn't under- stand, perhaps he is like me in that respect," the American offered in extenuation of his own short- comings. Pacifico pondered upon the suggestion. "Possibly he is a fool," he conceded; "else he would see." The white man winced. Nevertheless, one fac- tor that presented itself in his deliberations proved most impressive; the final success of the Filipino Ruling Class in disposing of El Dange- roso, in securing even his deportation, was unde- niable. "If El Dangeroso had not interfered so much, he might have staid at Badi," he suggested; "the principales got their own way in the end." Resentment mastered Pacifico 's stoically indif- ferent poise. "These things are wrong, sir. I know, for I have the American Law and the many books that El Dangeroso gave me, and I study them. But the New American Teacher is a 'hard-head' and a coward. So these things are." The one flash of temper seemed to give vent to all of Pacifico 's pent-up feeling, and he smiled again. "Tell these things to the American T " he repeated twice. The smile faded from the youth's face, and he stared 176 THE SON OF PIO intently into the distance. Sadly, lie shook his head. ''Who dares?" he questioned. "He is a coward, and he accepts many gifts of chickens and eggs from Senor Presidente Lasam." The American shook his head, in mild protest at the contemptuous estimate of himself. "But Senor Lasam 's enmity isn't exactly to be despised, is it?" he commented; "El Dange- roso was deported." Pacifico sneered. "Even I have thwarted that fool of a presi- dente," he boasted. "Once, he planned to rob the people with a false tax, but I read the Law, and translated it into Ibanag, and posted Placards on the important corners of the town, and every- body laughed at the fool. And because the trans- lations were poor Ibanag, the 'hard-head' believes that some American Devil hovers over Badi, all ready to pounce upon him and to punish him for his false charges against El Dangeroso. And he buys many charms and amulets to protect him from the evil ' Influence. ' And I planned the Com- bination of Tobacco Growers that each month pays the debts of some of Senor Lasam 's peons; and soon he will lose all the profits he has stolen from his debtors in the past. And the 'hard-head' doesn't know that it was I," the lad exulted, "and so he trembles in his own town for fear of some new burden that the 'American Devil' will impose upon him! And when I have gone to the A SONG BY THE WAYSIDE 177 Normal School in Manila, let the fool find it out. Who cares?" "I would not talk about it," the American ad- vised. "Suppose he should find out." Pacifico trembled, even while he shrugged his shoulders. "As God wills it," he declared. "But then there is Senor Caronan of Mapia to protect us, and possibly Senor del Monte, the new Teacher at the Town on the Mountain-Side, will prove our friend. I have heard that he dares, like El Dan- ger oso, though I have never seen him. ' ' The white man uneasily shifted his gaze under the lad's too close scrutiny, and glanced toward the town where he had spent the last two days. "Senor Lasam may suspect you," he warned. "Are you Senor del Monte?" Pacifico inquired. "Oh, no," the white man hastily stated. "I ' am only a traveler." Pacifico sighed. "Possibly," he muttered. "And Senor Lasam has made many gifts to the coward of late." His head bowed in anxious thought, the lad urged the carabao toward the brook, while the white man plodded on his way and pondered upon all he had heard. "It is up to me to do something; that kid ought to have a show," Ferguson decided, his jaws set. But each time that his mind balanced on the verge of the resolution to imitate El Dangeroso and so to win a like affection from the people, 178 THE SON OF PIO one single consideration checked the decision. One after another, Senor Lasam had removed those whose opposition to him was their only offense, had removed them all, both Americans and Fili- pinos, in one way or another. Ferguson shook his head once more. "It IS a sinister power," he muttered; "no wonder the Filipinos fear their presidentes 1 ' ' With his brooding, the old sense of loneliness, of isolation, grew upon him, and the depressive, Nameless "IT" overpowered his self-mastery, until a perspiration for which the twilight hour could not account moistened his face. With lag- gard step, he crossed the porch of his shack. The door-knob rattled at touch of his tensed fingers ; he gripped it spasmodically. The creak of the hinges rasped his sensitive nerves; he shud- dered at the shock. The big, gloomy, box-like, familiar room welcomed him to its crude, barren comfort; the comfort of white-washed walls, and of a bureau improvised from a commissary case, and on the table the best of Senor Lasam 's gifts of chicken and eggs! and venison! Suddenly, senselessly, completely unnerved, he sank into the single chair. Then he remembered Pacifico 's com- ment of an hour back. "Something IS doing," he faltered, "or there would be no chicken and eggs," he mopped his face ' ' and venison ; there is DECIDEDLY some- thing doing." A SONG BY THE WAYSIDE 179 The scratch of a match, the familiar scent of his servant's cigar, the common-place clatter of pots and pans on the earthen fire-box, broke into the almost terrifying intensity of the silence that had seemed to envelope everything. They were very usual factors of existence, and reassured the American. And the savory odor of the venison steak, of fresh meat a wonderfully welcome change from canned stuffs, proved a stimulant. Gradually, he threw off his depression, and gained a certain control of himself. "This won't do," he chided himself. "That kid worked on my imagination. The poor little devil! A remarkably bright lad! And he can't help having the perverted view of life that all of his class have ! ' ' That the sound of his own voice might reen- f orce the arguments by which he sought to regain the full measure of his self-complacency, that hie nervousness might find a vent in action, he talked aloud and paced back and forth across the room, until his servant brought the tempting venison steak. "But I've got to take a grip on myself," he concluded, ' ' or that now, what did the Old-Timer call it? oh, yes, the 'Nameless IT,' or that IT- WILL get the best of me." He hesitated. "Strange how that kid's yarn bluffed me! But I'll just keep still about the lad," he promised nothing in particular; "there is no need of men- tioning him to Senor Lasam." 180 THE SON OF PIO A vigorous clapping of his hands summoned his servant, and Ferguson delayed his enjoyment of the venison long enough to command, "Take my very special thanks to Senor Presidente. Tell him that I more than appreciate his kindness." Then he turned back to such a banquet as few of his fellow teachers ever enjoyed. With satiety came philosophical meditations; upon the gen- eral worthlessness of googoos upon the folly of attempting a thing so futile as combating the va- garies of the ignorant, upon the peculiar power of the country and its associations to transform a white man into such a brutal pervert as El Dan- geroso, upon the marked contrast between the character of the comprehension possessed by the Old-Timer, and that possessed by the googoo Se- nor Presidente Lasam, who recognized the essen- tial necessity to an American in the Philippines of securing wholesome food for his stomach. Over a good cigar, he went to sleep. And when he awakened again, he had forgotten everything but his Gloom and the wisdom of fostering the friend- ship through which he received so many gifts of "good grub." CHAPTER XI CHABMS OF THE DEVIL, EMILIANA restrained her anxious impulse to interrupt the trend of Pacifico 's specu- lations until the carabao was plunging down the river-bank and she and the lad had vaulted from the animal's back. Then she breathed the fear- inspired question, "Perhaps that strange Ameri- can WAS the New Teacher at Badi?" When Pacifico absently nodded assent, she trembled at his confirmation of her suspicions, and wailed, "If he tells, Pacifico, if he tells? Oh, why did you talk so to that strange American !" Pacifico shrugged his shoulders. "At first, I thought he was the new Senor of the Mountains, who is like El Dangeroso, and dares. Perhaps he would help us here in Badi, if he knew about the cowardice of our American." "You are so careless," Emiliana reproved; ' * you should know who people are before you tell them everything." The terrible possibilities in Senor Presidente's vengeance revivified her ter- ror. "If the American should tell! Why Senor Lasam might even ," she faltered, but the mere thought of that disgrace strangled her power to word it. 181 182 THE SON OF PIO Pacifico understood ; he had endured one public flogging. He shivered. And a second one might not have an aftermath that would make the peo- ple forget his ignominy in their amusement at the shame of a principals! But the girl's words and manner thrilled him, and he laughed a glad exul- tation over her frank anxiety for his safety. The soft tone of the retort, " 'Hard-head,' you!" transformed the reprimand into a caress of the dark-eyed, agitated, brown beauty. Then he gave his attention to reassuring her. "No matter," he asserted. "I hope the Ameri- can was the New Teacher at Badi. He said he did not know that these things are. Perhaps, now that I have told him, he will be brave, and there will be two new 'El Dangerosos of Badi,' a White American and a Brown." In his memory of the American's repeated cautions against the lad's own bold statements, Pacifico found an unworded promise that the white man would regard the in- cident as a confidence. "I have no fear of Senor Presidente," he insisted; "I know the American Laws." As Emiliana's evident admiration of his cour- age inspired the lad, he breathed more freely. "But Senor Lasam's influence with the Ameri- can Government secured the deportation of El Dangeroso," she argued, "and the New Ameri- can fears Senor Presidente 's might." "The New American accepts many gifts of chickens and eggs," Pacifico corrected, lest she CHARMS OF THE DEVIL 183 forget the distinction between fear and accepting a bribe. Emiliana shook her head, while Pacifico sneered further at Senor Lasam. But his reply to her con- tradiction was gentle. "Foolish girl!" he chided. "Senor Presidente knows both his ' Sins ' and the 'Laws. ' So he trem- bles for fear of an * American Devil,' and the whole Province laughs at him for his 'hard-head,' and ridicules him for the humiliations that I have brought upon him. And now that Senor Guarrin, leader of the Ilocano 'faction,' has decided to stand as a candidate in opposition to Senor La- sam 's reelection as presidente, we may defy the 'hard-head' openly, because" a gleam of exulta- tion shone in his black-brown eyes "I have dis- covered in the 'Acts of the Commission' what will insure Senor Guarrin 's success. And everybody will know that Pacifico Baliuag, ignorante, is the 'El Dangeroso ' who defeated the Tyrant, Lasam," he triumphed. Emiliana shuddered, and her eyes narrowed, suspiciously, disapprovingly. Emiliana always shuddered when Pacifico surrendered his saner, calmer reason to the witchery of the old childish game of "the New El Dangeroso," for she sensed the "Spell" that dominated him in those moments, and guessed the unconscious significance of those moods. She glanced southward toward Ma- nila, whither his ambition was leading him, to- ward the Wonderful City of beautiful senoritas, 184 THE SON OP PIO among whom a Masterful Pacifico might find a suitable mate. "Senor Presidente Lasam has disfranchised more than one hundred Free Ilocano ignorantes, because they speak neither English nor Spanish; and yet every one of them is entitled to vote, because he pays a tax high enough. I have trans- lated the 'Law' into bad Ibanag, so that Senor Lasam will again blame the 'American Devil,' and to-night I shall placard the town, and send a list of their names to the Senor American Provin- cial Treasurer at the Provincial Capital. Let Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam explain," he snapped, "to Senor American Provincial Treas- urer, and to the public." Emiliana grabbed his arm, snatched the trans- lation. "You must let me talk to you," she pleaded. She crumbled the paper in a trembling hand, and rolled it into a little ball, clenched her fingers on it, dug her nails into the flesh of her other palm. "You shall not threaten Senor Presi- dente," she commanded; "I won't let you." But by the excessive vigor with which she so imperi- ously asserted her authority over him, her right to compel obedience, she confessed a doubt of her power to dissuade him from a course of action upon which he was really determined, and she knew it. Besides, in that Ambition, which always carried him far beyond her influence, was a mighty antagonist. And there was Manila, and its seno- CHAEMS OF THE DEVIL 185 ritas and the Future that MUST be his. "Oh why must you always, and you alone, interfere with Senor Presidente's plans'? Let another do it this time," she implored. The girl's poise, the wistful anxiety in her man- ner, the suggestion of disappointment in her dark eyes, won Pacifico 's sympathy. "Foolish girl!" he soothed. "You should not be so afraid." Then he reminded her of his past immunity from discovery in similar attacks upon the Tyrant, of the assurance of security to be found in Senor Caronan's well-known policy of visiting prompt retaliation upon Senor Lasam for any injustice to an americanista, of all the dan- gers that had threatened and cowed the Euler of Badi. Perhaps the strength of his argument convinced the girl, perhaps the hopelessness of further op- position; and she loved Pacifico, and dreamed of the Leader that he should be, and of all the other possibilities that could never be for him who was utterly disgraced. She hesitated but a mo- ment. "Let me write the Placards," she proposed, "as there is no shame to a woman in a beating. Who would assemble to see a woman flogged! Possibly, if Senor Lasam should discover who had done it, he might not order " Pacifico 's glance caressed, while it silenced her. "Let Senor Presidente forget that Emiliana Danga lives," he warned, "lest Panfilo again 186 THE SON OF PIO crave the daughter of the ignorante peon, Juan Danga, when there is no El Dangeroso to save her." Senor Lasam attributed the Placard to the "American Devil." But another matter, a more threatening matter, the prospect of a direful ca- lamity, occupied his attention, the attention of the American Officials, the minds and hearts of the people. That matter was the Threat embodied in the beginning of ' ' The Dirge ' ' ; ' ' One day near- er!" Day after day came that inevitable report of the cholera's approach along the river. The plague's advance was slow, majestic, unerring. And the people feared. Old men increased the uneasiness by telling ter- rible tales of the * ' Great Scourge ' ' which, twenty years before, had harried the country. Even those like Pacifico, who trusted in the wisdom of the Americans to stay the plague, viewed its approach with an alarm that contained much of supersti- tion. Disquieting tales of failure came from Ma- nila, where the cholera had raged for months. Thus, though the more enlightened doubted the efficacy of superstition's defenses, they joined the great bulk of the people in buying "Charms" and "Amulets," that they might escape the Evil Spirit who cursed the land. At night, fires burned brightly at every corner of the town. They were prompted by a hazy ap- preciation of an antiquated method of disinfec- CHAEMS OF THE DEVIL 187 tion. On poles, at the entrances to the various homes, were fixed the skulls of crocodiles, which guarded off the Evil Spirits of Plague and Death as the " Spots of Blood" in the Egyptian Cap- tivity of old had warned away the "Angel of Death/' But always came that report, "A day's march nearer!" Pacifico had his "Charms." There was the rectangular piece of card-board with the religious motto printed on it in gaudy red and yellow, for which he paid a media peseta about five cents. He wore it on a pink string about his neck, and outside his clothing that the Demons might see it and pass him by. More potent than this were the valuable hidden "Charms"; a new crocodile's tooth in place of the old, and a ring cut from crocodile bone and worn on his thumb. He had great faith in these, and did not really fear the cholera. Yet that constant, inevitable approach impressed him. Every day the people waited anxiously for the news sent to the Provincial Capital by the won- derful telegraph, and thence to Badi by courier. It never changed from ' ' One day 's march near- er!" The people trembled with apprehension; nothing seemed able to stem that daily march down the river. Still, when they saw that it was not yet among them, they sighed their relief and went about their tasks. 188 THE SON OF PIO Senor Excelencia Cristobel, the enlightened Filipino Governor of Isabela Province, issued an "Inspired Proclamation,'* in which he declared that God had visited the cholera upon the people as a well-merited punishment for their sins, that it would be sacrilegious to thwart the Will of God, and in which he commanded the people of his Province to disobey the quarantine regulations of the American Government at Manila. Ex- plaining as it did why their country had been af- flicted with the plague, it made a profound impres- sion upon the people. About the time that news of this "Proclama- tion" reached Badi, Pacifico began a bold, spec- tacular, open campaign against the Tyrant, La- sam. He interviewed every Ilocano ignorante who owed his enfranchisement to the mysterious Placards of the ' * American Devil. ' ' Among these, was Senor Macasta. "Senor Lasam is a very bad man, and an evil tyrant," Pacifico began. " Sh-h-h-h ! " Senor Macasta warned ; "the walls may have the ears of a spy." He hastened out- side to investigate. "Sometimes it is unwise to say what we believe," he added upon his re- turn. Pacifico recounted in great and humorous detail all the exposures that Senor Lasam had endured as a result of his tyrannies, and Senor Macasta laughed at his memories of those incidents. Then, frightened at his own temerity in abetting the CHARMS OF THE DEVIL 189 ridicule of Ms master, the old ignorante quaked the more. But most particularly, Pacifico laid stress upon Senor Lasam's dullness. "That 'hard-head/ that very thick head!" the lad sneered. "Why every town in the Province laughs at him, and their ridicule extends to us who consent to be ruled by such a presidente. A disgrace to Badi!" he mourned, appealing to his race's pride in the sagacity of its leaders. "A shrewd man would never have been exposed." "Unh," Senor Macasta grunted, and hesitated for a moment. "Much can be forgiven a shrewd man," he expounded. "And nothing a dull one," the lad added. "Unh," came a faint grunt of assent. Then Senor Macasta pondered for a while. "We must not let people of other towns laugh at us for fools. Is it not so ? No If " he annunciated. ' ' Prob- ably I shall vote for Senor Guarrin." Next day, hearing that Senor Lasam was trail- ing him with a very convincing argument, Paci- fico again visited Senor Macasta. "Have you heard of Senor Cristobel's * Procla- mation'?" the old ignorante inquired. Pacifico nodded. Senor Macasta remembered Senor Lasam 's un- answerable argument, word for word, tone for tone. With ominous emphasis, he repeated it. "For one thing the plague is a blessing; it will tell us who have sinned. And Senor Presi- dente Lasam has the Approval of God ; our town 190 THE SON OF PIO has no cholera. That is a Sign from God that He has set the Seal of his Approval on the rule of this town; we have a good presidente." "Senor Cristobel is an ignorant fool!" Paci- fico snapped. Senor Macasta guffawed. 11 Listen to the child's conceit!" he jeered. "Why Senor Excelenzia Cristobel was educated in Hong Kong. Think of it! Hong Kong! And the ignorant infant who has never been away from his own town, not even to the Provincial Capital nor to Mapia, presumes to question his Excel- lency's exalted wisdom!" he ridiculed. Though disconcerted, and convinced that it was useless to reason, against superstition, Pacifico did not despair of success ; he, too, could appeal to superstition. He pretended to ponder. "Perhaps it IS true," he admitted. "And so Badi, in supporting Senor Lasam, has the Ap- proval of God. But Mapia, in supporting Senor Caronan, whose policy is the very opposite of Senor Lasam 's, also has the Approval of God," he added, in a meditative way; "Mapia has no cholera." At that suggestion, Senor Macasta wrinkled his brow. "God cannot approve of both Senor Lasam and Senor Caronan," Pacifico claimed. "Jesu!" said Senor Macasta, "it appears not! We shall wait to see which town gets the cholera. That will decide." CHARMS OF THE DEVIL 191 As Pacifico knew that he had gained every ad- vantage that he could expect at present, he dropped the argument. But mentally, he pictured a glorious outcome, and prayed for it; ''If Se- nor Lasam would only be stricken with the chol- era ! ' ' And the report of that morning, "One day nearer, ' ' meant that the plague had swept through Senor Excelenzia Cristobel's Province to the bor- der of North Province! Next morning, word came that the cholera had crossed into North Province, and had appeared in the Provincial Capital. "One more day's march to Badi," the people muttered, and shrank away from one another. And next day? Senor Macasta went early to the river with his oil-cans to draw water. He toiled back to his shack with them filled, and drank of the cholera- laden fluid. Two hours later, he stood on the platform of his home, talking to a friend. "Now that the cholera has come to North Prov- ince, but has passed over Badi, we know that Pacifico is a fool," he sneered: laughed, and collapsed, groaning, upon the floor. With a startled glance of horror, the friend fled away, muttering prayers and beseechings to the God he had forgotten up to this hour of fright. About the town, he carried the dread news, until he himself was seized in the road. 192 THE SON OF PIO "As God wills it," said the people, and went about their usual routine. Senor Macasta lay where he had fallen, writh- ing in his agony. Ignorant of any way to relieve him, disdainful, as befitted a fatalist, his woman sat beside him, chewing her buja, smoking her tobacco-roll, dumbly watching the body of her "lord and master" shrink under the touch of the disease. "As God wills it," she muttered. "Da-num, da-num," he shrieked. But the water which his woman brought was belched forth with the vileness that came from him. And the tropical sun burned down upon him in a murderous, drying rivalry with the plague. In another two hours, the dogs and pigs sniffed at the staring, grinning, shriveled, wrin- kled, withered corpse. Next day, his woman died, and his sons, and his daughters. When the people heard of Macasta's death, they took it as a sign from God approving of Pacifico 's opposition to Senor Presidente Lasam. But when they heard that the plague had also reached Ma- pia, they were again thrown into a quandary of doubt. The very morning after the cholera's arrival, came the American Doctor, thin, small, wiry, alert, and curt, very curt. With slouch hat awry, with blue shirt, khaki trousers, and army shoes splashed with mud, he did not present a prepos- sessing appearance. Nevertheless', rather than CHARMS OF THE DEVIL 193 wait for his servant to bring his pony across the river, so that he could ride, and thereby keep him- self as presentable as he was, he waded through the mud-holes in the street! Senor Presidente found him a domineering man whose impatient desire for haste could be restrained neither by many a soothing, "Pacencia, senor," nor propi- tiatory, "Poco tiempo," while hospitable urgings to enjoy a drink of whisky, or of wine, or of beer, or of bino, but aroused that Senor Doctor's crazy American temper! Senor Lasam could not believe that an Ameri- can Official would refuse a drink of excellent whisky. But in response to an urgent repetition of the sociable invitation, the white Doctor 's wrath flared forth in a snappy, harsh retort. "You forget the booze, and find out what shacks have had cholera in them, and do it 'pronto' damned 'pronto,' ' ' the American ordered. As Senor Doctor exhibited various indications of belligerent intentions, Senor Presidente said many a solicitous, prompt, "Wen, senor," during the next half hour, and showed even as much haste and activity in his investigations, under the Doctor's urgent directions, as an ignorante could have exhibited in executing a principale's commands. Senor Doctor left a set of rubber gloves with Senor Presidente, gave directions that the people be informed in detail of the proper precautions for combating the plague; and ordered that the 194 THE SON OF PIO corpses be buried in lime, that the inoculated shacks be burned, and that the carabao-wallows in the roads and pig-wallows beneath the houses be filled with earth to the level of the ground. After the white man's departure, Senor Presi- dente tramped up and down his Tribunal. Such exertion, voluntarily undertaken, was in itself unusual. And in addition, his chuckles and cackles added to the labor and stress of his excitement. "The corpses must be buried/' he mumbled. "But he did not say how many I should assign to the task that Doctor. And" his eyes glit- tered "he will ask Pacifico whether I obey the commands? Perhaps. And again, perhaps not," he sneered; nursing a great contempt for Senor Doctor's sagacity. In response to Senor Lasam's summons, the people assembled in the early afternoon. They were nervous, yet calm in the stoicism of the fatal- ist, and displeased that they had been called from sleep and laziness to tramp to town in the heat of the day. In awed, respectful silence, they lis- tened to his oratorical flights, and carefully sup- pressed any manifestation of doubt of the logic with which he attempted to controvert the charges Pacifico had made against him. In conclusion, he referred at length and effusively to the famous ' ' Proclamation. ' ' "As God has inflicted no cholera on me or mine, He has proven the charges false," he triumphed. CHARMS OF THE DEVIL 195 A single, bold, deep, rich-toned voice rose above the suppressed murmur of the mob. "Senor Caronan of Mapia has no cholera," challenged that voice in the crowd; "it is impos- sible for God to approve of your actions, and of his also." Senor Presidente glanced in the direction from whence had come the words, and glared balefully. "But God has sent the plague upon those Ilo- canos who listened to the false charges," he thun- dered. 1 ' Then why has God not sent the cholera to me, who accused you?" the same voice demanded, and Pacifico stepped close to the bamboo band- stand. ' * I will tell the people why, ' ' he calmly con- tinued. "It is because I have told them of your rascality. My people, the Ilocanos, have had the cholera because they have refused to oppose you. That was their punishment. But others, your friends, will have it." Senor Lasam sputtered and fumed, impotently, but the words which he was too angry to speak merely gurgled in his throat. A full minute of terrifying silence passed before he regained the power of articulation. Then he bawled, triumph- antly, "If I am wicked, why does God spare me!" Pacifico shrugged his shoulders. * * I don 'tkno w, ' ' said he. "Why does God spare the Devil?" The boy lost himself in the crowd, which, now convinced of Senor Presidente 's guilt, roared with 196 THE SON OF PIO the daring of the mob, but quickly subsided again into a tense silence. Though Senor Lasam worked his lips vigorous- ly, no sound issued forth. Submissive, he suffered his nephew, the excommunicated Padre Guillermo, to lead him away. But Senor Guillermo returned, and speaking with the authority of the position he had held before the wrath of Mother Church had cut short his brilliant but corrupt career, he ad- dressed the people. * ' There has been much misunderstanding of the 'Inspired Proclamation, 7 " he declared; "I will explain it." He paused, that his remarks might carry a full significance. "Like good children of God, you fought the Americans, but in cowardice your hearts grew weak and you submitted to their evil domination. Then the Americans, fearing that you would hear the Commands of God, and arise and exterminate them, entered into a compact with the Devil for a 1 Charm* with which to undo you. And you al- lowed them to inflict it upon you!" he reproached the people. "They gathered you together, and their minions went among you with keen-edged knives and the Devil's poison. They cut your arms and put in your blood that germ of coward- ice which has made you so submissive to their will; that germ which they lyingly told you was a 'Charm' against smallpox. Now you wear on your arms the White Man's 'Mark of the Devil.' " CHARMS OF THE DEVIL 197 The people glanced at the scars, and forgetting that Senor Guillermo also wore the ''Mark," be- lieved. "At last, in His exasperation, God has pun- ished you; He has sent cholera to you, and the 'Pest* to your animals." Listening to these solemn words, the people hung their heads, and breathed, "It is the truth." "And yet God is merciful to you. None but the friends of Pacifico, who is an americanista and an ally of the Devil, have been afflicted. 'Why does God spare Pacifico?' you wonder? *I don't know. Why does he spare the Devil? ' " The people standing about Pacifico, drew away from him, lest contact with his person should contaminate. Alone, in the center of a wide circle, the en- lightened lad faced a populace in whose animosity he read a threat. With that people the thralldom of superstition crushed fact and reason, and the mere authority of a padre's word, though he was Senor Presidente's nephew and an anathematized, excommunicated priest, would outweigh the shrewdest argument. Senor Lasam's reelection was assured. Pacifico sighed, and bowed his head. Sadly, thoughtfully, unconscious of the glaring mob-eyes that accused him of responsibility for God's Judgment upon the people, he started out of the crowd, which parted to the right and to the left before him and closed again behind him, leaving a wide pathway for his passage out of 198 THE SON OF PIO their life. At the edge of the assemblage, Pacifico paused, and listened to Guillermo's final state- ment. "My beloved children, those orders of that 'Pig of an American ' Doctor are the Devil's injunc- tions," he warned. "I say to you that God has sent the cholera as a punishment for your sins, and none but the guilty will suffer. My people you must submit to God's Will." In the answering murmur, Pacifico read a popu- lar determination to ignore, persistently, wilfully, the doctor's wise precautions. In the harsher tone of the taunts aimed at himself, he found that which hastened his homeward flight. The nature of the danger which the lad sensed became evi- dent in an interview between Guillenno and the latter 's uncle following the dispersal of the peo- ple. "Your election is assured," Guillermo declared. 1 ' Is it I " Senor Lasam sneered. ' ' I tell you that boy has the wit of the Devil; the Devil speaks through him." His regret over the lost oppor- tunity aroused the full fury of his wrath. "You 'hard-head,' you!" he stormed. "With only a hint from you, the people would have torn the upstart limb from limb ; he would have been out of the way. But I take my own measures." He paused in his impatient tramping, and sum- moned El Sargento de Policia. "Take two policemen, and go with them to get Pacifico Baliuag. Make him bury the cholera CHARMS OF THE DEVIL 199 corpses. NO. Do not take the gloves. Perhaps it is the Will of God that Pacifico should get the cholera, and we must not thwart God's Will. Who knows?" Senor Presidente directed, with a shrug of his shoulders. Neither El Sargento nor his men noticed the girl who stole out from the shadows beneath a window of the Tribunal and fled swiftly ahead of them along the Trail toward Pacifico 's home. It was only a Female; to be ignored by men en- gaged in the Affairs of Men. But a Female has no Dignity to maintain and may demean herself with the exertion of unseemly haste. So Emiliana ran and ran and ran. But for all of her speed, but though she outdis- tanced El Sargento and his men, she did not over- take Pio. Pio was angry, very angry. When he reached his home, he attempted to cuff his son's ears, a good intention that the youth frustrated by quick dodging. "Fool!" the old man scolded. "For what do you expose us to Senor Guillermo's retaliations by your silly talk" From the security of the doorway, Pacifico ar- gued with his father. "Am I who learned so many things during the years I served El Dangeroso, to keep silence when the lies of a disgraced priest are deceiving the people, to their hurt?" the lad demanded. 200 THE SON OF PIO "Perhaps Senor Guillermo remembers what he learned when he was a priest!" Pio suggested. " Perhaps he knows." Pacifico glanced at the scar on his arm, and then hid that "Mark" out of his sight. Aloud, he declared, "Our own priest, Padre Antonio, haa warned us against the disgraced renegade of Ma- pia. But the people are fools; they believe Guil- lermo 's lies, and will reelect Senor Lasam. And they have forgotten all I have done for them, and hate me," he grieved. "If only Senor Lasam doesn't visit some ter- rible punishment upon us for your opposition to his reelection," the old man quavered, and trailed into bitter reproaches of his son for risking that dire possibility. "Will Senor Lasam chance another public flog- ging for his nephew?" the lad sneered. "Senor Presidente Caronan of Mapia has shown Senor Lasam the danger of persecuting me." Emiliana sprang into the shack. "Pacifico!" she called, fear vibrating her voice. Discovering him, she rushed over to him, rushed into his arms. "Oh, I'm so glad I found you right away," she sobbed. "It doesn't matter to you if the people do turn against me ! " he begged. The reproof in the girl's large, dark, fathom- less eyes comforted him. Her fear, lulled for a moment by his presence, welled up again and de- manded recognition. She sprang away from him, CHAEMS OF THE DEVIL 201 crying incoherently, ' ' Flee. You must. You must. It's the cholera. Don't you understand?" Bewildered, the lad quieted her with his em- brace. She told her story, indefinitely but vigorously. After the Town-Meeting, for reasons of her own, she had hidden in the shadows beneath the win- dow of the Tribunal, and had heard Senor Presi- dente order El Sargento to make Pacifico bury the cholera corpses without the gloves that would pro- tect the boy from infection. So, though the peo- ple along the Trail had ridiculed her unseemly haste, she had run and run that there might be time before Senor Sargento came for Pacifico to leave for Mapia. Mapia suggested its presidente, Senor Caronan, suggested, too, his probable retaliations upon Se- nor Lasam for any breach of the Law. Such a retaliation promised justice. Pacifico laughed his exultation. "And I shall defy their orders, and once more expose Senor Presidente Lasam 's illegal tyran- ny," he triumphed. "Then the people will have to believe in his villainy, and they will vote against him, and he will be defeated, and Badi will have a just presidente, like Senor Caronan of Mapia." "Oh, you must go," the girl implored. "Can't you understand?" she wailed. "The American Doctor ordered the burial of the cholera corpses, and who can complain if the task is assigned to you? Senor Sargento and his men will swear that 202 THE SON OF PIO you wore the gloves, and their tortures will drive you to obedience," she moaned. "What good will it do for me to tell the truth," she shivered ' * when you are dead ? ' ' Silenced, the lad leaned over toward her and took her hand in his, and the wistful light in his eyes revealed his longing. "And when I have a place for you there in Ma- pia, will you come to me, querissima mia?" his solemn voice pleaded. From his shoulder, she smiled back her answer. "It is wonderful, and I can't understand it," he puzzled. "It is wonderful that you should choose me from all your suitors, for I have noth- ing." "You have yourself," a contented voice told him, He looked deep into the love-light of her fath- omless eyes, and drew her to him. "There is El Sargento, who has position and a home, and he would take you to wife?" his doubt suggested. "And I despise him," she cried, the tremor of loathing agitating her. The lad held her close. Yet his jealous fear prompted one more torturing hint. "And there is the Scout who has the food and clothes of an American to give you?" She nestled closer in his arms, and hid her smile. CHARMS OF THE DEVIL 203 "And he would make me but one of many toys, for he is that kind," she patiently assured him. "While here am I, who has nothing, nothing but the enmity of the principales, I who can give you nothing for all that you will mean to me," he whispered faintly. "And I love you, love you," she murmured. The lad trembled, and probed for the last pos- sible regret that might mar his happiness. "But our people call you a fool for not ac- cepting one of those who can give you so much?" "Foolish, foolish boy," she reproved. "I love you." Her avowal thrilled the lad. "I will go, and make a place for you in Mapia," he exulted ; ' * and we will escape from this tyrant, and be happy." "We two, alone," she whispered, and breathed a sigh of content. Then, memory returning, she almost screamed, "Go. Go. You must go," and hurried him away with nothing but his books and a hundred pesos that should some day send him to the Normal School in Manila. Though recollec- tion of that "Vision" of the Wonderful City and its beautiful senoritas still rankled in her heart, though a lingering doubt sometimes tormented her with the fear that this parting might be forever, she urged greater and ever greater haste on the 204 THE SON OF PIO Trail, along which she accompanied him as far as the river-bank. They halted above a casco for a quick, farewell kiss. CHAPTER XII THAT GOOGOO HIDE o' YOUBN SENOR JONES swore. But that was nothing unusual ; Senor Jones always swore when ad- dressing the crew of his Filipino casco, unless the stress of some peculiar, violent emotion de- prived him temporarily of the power of articula- tion. In that case his expressive silence carried more of a threat than the wildest profanity, and a positive warning to any inattentive listener. But as Senor Jones was, in the present instance, merely puffing and laboring with his noisy oaths, Senor Pilote gave his thoughts to his own affairs. What the white man said, did not matter; no man but himself could translate the jumble of English, Spanish, and Ibanag words into an in- telligent command. And even the senselessness of the jabber did not matter, for in the harmony be- tween oaths and the accompanying gesticulations, Senor Pilote possessed a perfect key of under- standing. In fact, he prided himself on his thor- ough knowledge of the significance of English curses, as used by Americans. The gestures ac- companying Senor Jones' present volubility, in- terpreted in the light of a long, intimate experi- 205 206 THE SON OF PIO enoe with American soldiers, both white and black, indicated nothing more than the universal Ameri- can desire for chicken. Senor Pilote was not averse to gratifying that desire, provided he could steal a chicken without undue exertion or risk, or could buy at a price that would allow a fair profit for his trouble. For the calamities threat- ened in the American's belligerent oaths, should he fail to obtain one, Senor Pilote had just such a respect as is enforced by fear of a "boom-boom" ; that is, he saved his snickers of amusement until he was out of his employer's sight. As all sensi- ble men know, Americans are fools, who can be appeased by a lie, wherefore a man may suit his own convenience in deciding whether to obey a command or not. If Senor Jones had been a Spaniard? But he wasn't. Senor Pilote leaped to the shore, and started for Badi. Scarcely had he turned from the river- bank into the trail when he met a young couple. Senor Pilote knew them. Everybody who trav- eled the river regularly knew Pacifico Baliuag, and everybody else had heard of the ignorante lad whose five years of service with the illustrious American, El Dangeroso, had gained him recog- nition as an authority on American Law. The feud which this common ignorante boy had under- taken against the powerful Senor Presidente La- sam of Badi, had carried the fame of the lad's name from one end of the Cagayan River to the other, and beyond. But the matter which, in Se- THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOURN 207 nor Pilote' s estimation, overshadowed all of Pa- cifico 's other achievements, was his exposure of the American gambler, Senor Brown. Senor Pilote had witnessed that episode. In fact, as pilot of Senor Brown's casco and the mes- senger who had spread the news of the gambler's arrival at many towns, Senor Pilote had witnessed numerous episodes in which Senor Brown had fig- ured, and had acquired an intense admiration for the skill with which the American had so suc- cessfully cheated every famous Filipino gambler of the North. Senor Pilote chuckled, but not at Pacifico's ab- sorbed interest in his companion, evidently his woman, nor yet at memory of the ludicrous spec- tacle presented by Senor Brown's precipitate es- cape following his exposure by Pacifico Baliuag. But the chance encounter with the lad reminded Senor Pilote of a joke, a real farce. Everybody believed that Senor Brown had been driven from the Cagayan River, and had sought new scenes for his operations. But because Senor Pilote was the father of the gambler's woman, he knew the ease with which a razor had transformed the be- whiskered Senor Brown, discredited gambler, into a smooth-shaven Senor Jones, ostensible tobacco- buyer and expert manipulator of cards. It happened that Pacifico and his companion chose for their farewell that point in the Trail to Mapia which was just above the anchorage of Jones' casco. 208 THE SON OF PIO "My-y-y," a drawling voice jeered. Emiliana sprang back from the Trail, out of the vision of the scoffer at sacred things. But the boy faced the sound. "Well I'll be damned if it ain't El Dangeroso's kid!" the voice commented, before the surprised pair had discovered the American. ''Where are you going with the books?" As the English words were reassuring, Pacifico told him. "Gee! Ain't you 'fraid of the spooks in the jungles at night?" the American inquired, throw- ing a realistic tremor into his voice. "Most Googoos are." Though the suggestive reference to the white ghost-fires of the jungles was disconcerting, Paci- fico shook his head in denial. "Come with me if you want to," Jones invited. "Bring the girl, too. I ain't got no objections." "She is not going, sir," Pacifico explained. "That's too bad," the American mourned. "But come yourself. I'm dying for the want of some- body to talk to." Pacifico squeezed the girl's hand, surreptitious- ly, a man never shows his heart, and slid down the bank to the casco. But Emiliana, with only the parting pressure of her lover's hand upon her own to sustain her, dry of eye and with breaking heart, as is the ap- pointed lot of woman, watched his precarious de- THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUEN 209 scent to the water's edge, watched him clamber aboard the boat. In the American, Emiliana found an assurance of her lover's safety such as nothing else could have given. No Filipino would dare attack that white man with his terrible gun, and no experi- enced American would do other than defy the na- tive police. Yet some foreboding depressed her; not until she, with her own eyes, had seen the boat depart with the lad actually on board, could she feel real peace and security. Unseen, she slipped over to a clump of brush, and hid herself. Then she sobbed, quietly, anxiously. Pacifico felt, rather than saw, the American's cool, estimating survey of himself, of his books, of his bag of pesos. Although the lad failed to recognize in the smooth-shaven Jones that gambler whom he had exposed, the white man's keen ap- praisal increased Pacifico 's agitation. Only the lad's bravado of manner covered his diffidence, his pain at parting from Emiliana, his sudden sense of loneliness. "Well, kid, what do you know!" "We have the cholera, sir." The gambler laughed. "That's good news. It'll make some good Goo- goos; and good Googoos is dead Googos," he sneered. Pacifico shivered. Perhaps that is why he failed to observe the cynical smile that flitted over the gambler's face. 210 THE SON OF PIO " Lucky for you that I stopped here," the white man remarked in further greeting. Pacifico glanced at the man. "You have already heard!" he exclaimed. Jones smiled, and fixed a pair of steady, hard, calculating gray eyes on the boy. 'I know what I know, and I don't go butting into no man 's business, ' ' he said. ' ' We '11 just say it's a nasty tramp to Mapia, even by day, and you're a lucky kid to git a ride, and let it go at that. And now, kid," he turned on the lad and spoke with biting harshness, "I'm going to give you some advice I ain't passing out to no common Googoo. You are gitting it cuz you was nervy enuff to call a Ermericun with a gun at his belt, and smart enuff to catch the best dealer of monte in this end of the Hot Place." He paused an impressive moment, that the unsuspicious lad might recall the incident, and appreciate the full measure of respect his courage had won from a White Man, from an American. "I takes a man the way I finds him, and I asks no questions ; but if he tries to explain hisself and his doings when I ain't asked him nothing, I takes it for granted that he is lying." Though Pacifico pondered long on this advice, though an American stood sponsor for its value, he failed to grasp an idea so foreign both to his training and to his experience. Rather, the im- plied suspicion proved too galling for his endur- ance. THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOURN 211 "Senor Presidente Lasam, who is my enemy, issued orders that I bury the cholera corpses without any protection against the disease. Emi- liana Danga overheard. Senor Lasam wishes to kill me because my opposition to his reelection as presidente was threatening his defeat. But Emi- liana warned me, and I am going to Mapia, where Senor Caronan is my friend,'* the lad explained. " That's what you say," the American chal- lenged. "Remember, I ain't asking you no ques- tions." "It is the truth," the lad hotly rejoined. "Senor Lasam always lies, as everybody knows." "That's what you say, and I admit you have it on him to the extent that his reputation ain't none too good," the white man retorted. "But I'm ask- ing you a question now. What you got in the hand-sack?" Pacifico hesitated. But his experience with his American friends, both teachers and officials, had taught him the futility of lying to an American. Besides, Americans were not thieves, like Goo- goos. "A hundred pesos out of the money my father was saving to send me to the Normal School in Manila," he answered; "I took that and my books, because I may earn the rest in Mapia if Senor Caronan will aid me." Senor Jones shrugged his shoulders, and changed the subject. "It don't make no difference to me, kid," he 212 THE SON OF PIO drawled. "I'm wondering if my men kin git any- thing to eat in this hole." Pacifico mastered his resentment at the Ameri- can's implied judgment, and stifled his desire to defend himself. "I think so, sir," he replied. "Hope so. This country is the hottest, first edition of the other place I ever see. No booze, nor nothing fit for a white man to eat, no decent calercos, and I ain 't saying that that little maid o' yourn ain't all to the good, and nothing but Googoos. Rice and Googoosl I'm sick of it! Be flogged if my men ain't got a chicken!" Though Pacifico recognized the fowl as one of his father's gamesters, though the boatman swore many lurid oaths in convincing the American that it was not purloined, though Jones, when he paid their claim, feelingly appealed to the lad to wit- ness the manner in which googoo servants grafted on their employers, Pacifico left his suspicions un- voiced. "I bin living on rice and the rotten fish you call begung. The Googoos think a white man's fool enuff to pay them more for a thing nor it's worth. A white man can't buy nothing from a Googoo, if he won't be robbed," the American grumbled. "I guess I ain't got no kick to make, if them Goo- goos collects a little silver salve for the chance they takes when they swipes a chicken. Kin you cook, kid?" "Yes, sir." THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUEN 213 "Wish you'd git that chicken fixed," the gam- bler requested; "I want to enjoy it, and I must say I ain't hankering to have them bugadores do no cooking for me. Can't tell what disease they got. Them things on that feller MAY be boils. I don't think so. Anyhow, I ain't han- kering to find out." Eager to oblige the man whose protection might mean so much to him, Pacifico slid down the bam- boo wickerwork covering of the boat to the bam- boo extension just above the surface of the water, and walked to the earthen fire-box, blew up the flame, and set upon it an earthen pot filled with water. Preparing the chicken and cooking it brought to his mind vivid recollections of El Dan- geroso. Tears dimmed Pacifico 's eyes. Yet he was hopeful. To him, all Americans were alike, just, reliable, and kind; and he felt that meeting this one insured his safety and was an omen of future good luck. Instinctively he recognized a difference between this new friend and all the Americans he had known, a distinction that puz- zled him, although he did not stop to analyze it. Jones was subject to an even greater perplexity, a perplexity so great that neither his admiration for the skill and cleanliness of his chance cook, nor the anticipation of the pleasure the coming meal would give him, could take his mind off the vexatious problem. "If it wasn't for the hundred pesos, I'd swal- low the kid's story," he grumbled, "cuz the rest 214 THE SON OF PIO of it hangs together all right, having the books, and no clothes, and all. But who ever heard of a igurante, a common roust-a-bout field-laborer sav- ing a hundred pesos !" Jones jumped off the boat and tried to walk himself into forgetfulness of the situation. ' l Old ' Dangerous ' was a mighty wise guy when it came to sizing up a Googoo," he muttered, "and old ' Dangerous* always had a good word for the kid. And 'His Porcininity' Senor Lasam, is the worst they make out in this hole and that is the worst agoing. If the kid is telling the truth? If he is, he is in mighty bad, cuz Por- cininity will stack the cards of the Law Game so as the kid won't git a show for his life." Jones dismissed the unpleasant thought from his mind with a " 'Tain't my muss," climbed back on the casco, lit a cigar, and called, "How's the grub?" "It will be ready pretty soon," Pacifico prom- ised. "Damned willing to help a white man out," Jones admitted, "and the kid can't help being a Googoo. He is sure the whitest Googoo I ever see ! And smart ! ' ' Jones paused in his mumbled eulogy long enough to smile at the recollection of the figure he himself had made on that memo- rable day when, sprawled on all fours, he had slid down the river-bank to the security of his boat after the exposure by this same ignorante lad. "Even if I was careless from working it on noth- THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUEN 215 ing but Googoos for so long, it took a smart one to catch me on that slipping a card in the deal," he boasted. * ' And the kid done it, fair and square. And had the nerve to turn the laugh on * His Por- cininity'! Gawd! If the damned igurante has had the guts to buck Senor Lasam's reelection!" he exclaimed, awe subduing his voice. * * Wish I knew about them hundred pesos, cuz we got to be mov- ing damned quick if I'm going to help the kid make his git-a-way!" He puzzled over the situation. "But it's the grit of the little Googoo that's got me, just his Ermericun grit what I seen myself. He ought to git a chance, and it would be a hell of a joke on old Porky Lasam. Believe I'll " A voice from the bank hailed them. "Buenas," it said. * ' And who are you ? ' ' Jones belligerently bawled in Spanish, believing he was dealing with the vic- tim of his employee's pilfering raid. El Sargento of Badi, high above, came to a respectful "attention" when he noticed the white man. "El Sargento, senor," he replied. Pacifico dropped his knife. Unheeded, it sank in the river. Poised, tensed, he waited for the American to decide his fate. Jones was guarded in the presence of a repre- sentative of the despised Law, though only a Goo- goo representative. His respect for such an agent rose from a knowledge of the Manila Govern- ment's fondness for persecuting such self -satis- 216 THE SON OF PIO fied Americans as defied its Googoo agents. And a Googoo policeman was a policeman! In the presence of Constituted Authority, feared and respected with such an intensity as three cen- turies of Spanish tyranny had fostered in her race, Emiliana trembled. Fascinated by her ter- ror of what might happen, she watched El Sar- gento. But he issued no belligerent commands; he only stood on the bank and parleyed with some one on the casco, and seemed none too anxious to approach the edge of the bank. His inactivity, his nervous timidity, restored the girl's confidence, confirmed her assurance ; and she laughed. The better to enjoy the hated Sargento's discomfiture, she crept nearer the river's edge. "What do you want?" Jones inquired. When El Sargento discovered Pacifico, and found the American disposed to talk, an expres- sion of relief appeared on his face. Pointing to the lad, he said, "I must arrest him, senor, for he is a criminal." Pacifico glanced at the farthest shore, at the dark water between, and once again at the Ameri- can. Jones' hand slipped to his belt. "That is nothing to me," he drawled; "I ain't stopping you from doing your duty." Though Pacifico still trembled in apprehension, THAT movement reassured him. Perhaps the American would grant his protection ! THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUBN 217 "Will you send him off the casco, senor f It will be a great favor," said El Sargento. The gambler carelessly examined the chambers of his revolver. "Come and get him," he invited. "I ain't stopping you." The words throbbed through Emiliana's brain, and crushed her with the agony of despair. But El Sargento merely shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and talked in whispers with his companions. His inaction left her with a pitiful shred of hope. She clung to it, and crept farther out, crept almost beyond the edge of the brush. And then El Sargento again turned toward the American. "He is fleeing from the Laws of the American Government, senor," the Filipino entreated, his voice trembling in anticipation of possible punish- ment by Senor Presidente Lasam for allowing Pa- cifico to escape. "That's nothing to me. Come and get him," was the laconic reply; "I ain't stopping you." How the words tortured the girl! She peered down over the bank; and barely restrained the exultant cry of her soul. That terrible "boom-boom," oh so, so careless- ly twirled on a finger, frequently pointed right at Senor Sargento and emphasized the quality of the invitation, "Come and get him;" and the hardened, bino-lined face, the most beautiful white face Emiliana had ever seen, leered its contempt 218 THE SON OF PIO for Senor Sargento's courage; and the derision in the dissipated voice, the sweetest she had ever heard, openly taunted and defied that Power which her people feared. With such wonderful bulwarks to guard her lover's safety, she knew that life was beautiful and God was kind. Nevertheless, she threw herself on the ground, while the rack- ing sobs shook her. " Senor Presidente will report you to the Amer- ican Government " The gambler's amused laugh interrupted. "To hell with the Government! Come and get him," he invited. Once more, El Sargento studied the six-shooter the terror-inspiring ''boom-boom." He did not accept the invitation, but betook himself and his men upon a hasty retreat to Badi in search of re- enforcements. And behind them, Emiliana trilled and sang on her way across the tobacco-fields to her father's shack. "Googoos ain't got no nerve," Jones sneered to the lad. "Did you mean to kill him?" Pacifico breathed. Jones- turned upon the boy a face the expression of which was not pleasing. "Well, I ain't no fool! You ain't nothing to me," the man drawled, cool and hard. "I thought," Pacifico began, but lapsed into a meditative silence. THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOURN 219 "I just bluffed him off, kid. I wouldn't kill him for no damned Googoo. I ain't hankering to git hung for killing a Googoo," Jones explained. "But I couldn't resist the temptation to run a bluff on him, and bluffs git cowards." Pacifico was greatly puzzled by the apparent contradictions in Jones ' attitude. "Now I got myself in a muss," Jones grumbled. "But I got to stick by you now, kid, and we got to make our git-a-way from here as soon as that lazy Senor Pilot' gits back." Jones paced up and down on the bamboo walk- way. Consciousness of the serious nature of the escapade grew upon him with the rapid decrease in the stimulation he had felt while enjoying the intimidation of El Sargento. The Government at Manila had hunted out and punished many an American for interfering with the native police when attempting to arrest genuine fugitives from justice. "If you've give me crooked dope on that hundred pesos, kid, and I'm in bad for helping a Googoo thief to make his git-a-way, there 's going to be some flayed Googoo on this boat," he threat- ened, '-'and don't you forgit it, cuz you'll be elect- ed for the Googoo." Jones strained his eyes in an effort to catch some glimpse of Senor Pilote on the trail to Badi. "Anyhow," he muttered, "it's a safe bet that Senor Pilot' kin make it out from the town before another lazy Googoo kin make it both ways. ' ' He walked over to Pacifico. * ' Googoos are worthless, ' ' he growled. 220 THE SON OF PIO "Why, sir?" Pacifico tremblingly demanded, anxious to humor the white man's less bellicose mood. "Cuz they're lazy. That's why," Jones snapped. "They don't do nothing, no work. All a Googoo kin do is sleep," he sneered. "Sleep the whole damn time! Just look at that Senor Pilot'! Been gone long enough to make two trips ! ' ' Pacifico had no desire to risk an argument, under present circumstances, but felt that an an- swer was expected. "It is the 'Custom' of the country," he replied. "And so why should the people work more than they do?" "To git things." The boy shrugged his shoulders. "They have all they need, sir; they can get no more than that." Jones snorted, and then sneered. ' ' Give a Googoo lots of sleep, a woman, a fight- ing-cock, a little rice and rotten fish to eat, and a dilapidated shack to sleep in; give him them things, and he don't give a damn for nothing else. HELL!" Pacifico was silenced. While they were eating, Senor Pttote returned. His appearance aroused Jones to action. The gambler jumped to his feet, swore eloquently, and gesticulated. THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUEN 221 Senor Pilote stared, but not because close obser- vation would more clearly interpret antics the familiarity of which left no doubt of their mean- ing. Senor Pilote resented being imposed upon by a lunatic. And certainly the labor of his long tramp about the town with the news, "An Amer- ican travels on my casco, who loses many pesos when he deals monte, and we have tied up for the night below the barrio of Andaman," would be wasted, if Senor Pilote obeyed the crazy order to cast off. And the infliction of useless labor IS an imposition, a lunatic's joke! Senor Pilote protested. But though the con- sistency in limiting his speech to the one dialect he knew, maintained both the unity and coherence of his thought, Senor Jones treated his argument with the contempt one bestows on the unintelligi- ble. "He says," Pacifico translated to the Ameri- can, "that the many people who gather here to- night for the promised monte game, will regard it as a very bad joke. For many months, he will be afraid to stop at Badi." "You damned fool! Do you want to bury them cholera corpses?" Jones sneered. He paused, un- til a full appreciation of that alternative had cowed the lad. "I hopes you give me the truth, kid, cuz if you ain't, I takes it out of yur hide for gitting me in bad with the Googoo-loving Government at Manila, ' ' he growled. l ' You 'd bet- ter bibirramu sense to them durar-cabezas," he ad- 222 THE SON OF PIO vised, "and talk it damned pronto or them ' hard- heads* will never git going. " Pacifico understood. Eagerly, he explained to the angry pilot that his defense of the common people's rights in Badi against Senor Presidente Lasam's impositions, had earned the vengeance of that powerful Official ; told of the sentence, prac- tically a death penalty, from which Senor Jones wished to aid his escape. As a fellow Ilocano the lad appealed to the tribal loyalty of the crew for their assistance. The bugadores shouted their approval. The prospect of thwarting a hated presidente appealed to the wilder instincts of these free rovers of the river, and they faced the labor involved in the addition to the day's travel with the same indifference that would have marked the theft of a chicken, a fight with the men of a rival casco for the right of way along the river-bank, any in- cident of their trade. Survivals of an occupation which required physical strength and endurance, patience, genuine industry, an occupation which developed in an equal degree impatience of re- straint and disregard for legal restrictions, those half -nude brown men were more apt to resist the capture of the accused victim by any pursuing authority than was the American. And Senor Pi- lote did not reprove them, neither for their haste, nor for the disrespect shown himself by their as- sumption of independent initiative in casting off without waiting for the orders of their chief. THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUEN 223 Seated on the bamboo extension, two on a side in the bow and one on a side amidship, with their short handled oars tied to the foot-rail, they rowed and floated out into the middle of the stream, at which point the pilot headed the casco with the current, and the bugadores settled to their work. The short strokes of their paddles, dipped almost vertically into the water, were scarcely more than jerks, yet, with sharp spasms, the boat gathered headway. And when the buga- dores slackened their efforts, the gambler urged them on. ' ' Tuc-uan, hombres, tuc-uan, ' ' he yelled. * ' Row fellers, damn you! tuc-uan." Pacifico, his eyes moist, watched the passage of the familiar scene, flat and bare, which lost itself in the precipitate West Coast Range. The strip of pampas-grass swamp along the other bank, seemed, from the river, to stretch itself to the Sierra Madre Range of the East Coast. A single file of trees formed a border between the white of the plumes and the haze of the hills. A cock crew. El Pilote's bird, which was teth- ered to the bpjnboo covering, hurled back a lusty, defiant challenge. And the pilot, who was stretched out comfortably on the roof of the shack at the stern, with the massive tiller in one hand, reached out and petted the gamester fondly. A couple of washer-women squatting in the river with only their heads and knees above the water, floated by. The gambler's ribald jests 224 THE SON OF PIO hailed them. They stopped the ceaseless flaying of dirty clothes, sank lower into the water, re- moved their tobacco-rolls from their mouths, and hurled back at the American compliments at least as expressive, as vile, as contemptuous, as descrip- tive as those he gave. This exchange of humor- ous repartee won the laughing approval of the bugadores. The casco approached and passed the watering- place of a barrio. There, men led their ponies to drink, or filled the five-gallon oil-cans with water for use in their homes. One drove a whistling, laboring, tired carabao up the bank. Another tried to restrain a carabao plunging down the steep, yielding bank to join the group which, im- mersed in the water, looked out from calm, pleading eyes over the river and snored their con- tent. The casco floated by in dignified silence, the bugadores disdaining to answer the questions of the crowd on shore. A wail, like a child's,, startled the gambler, and he glanced around uneasily. But the plaintive cry was only the call of a distant carabao to its mate, or to its young. A dog on the bank high above, snarled at them. Pacifico was absorbed in the interest of his new surroundings. He was eight miles from home! The wonder of it! The wonder of so many new things to see ; carabaos, dogs, ponies, men that he did not know personally and by name; shacks, THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0> YOUEN 225 barrios, clumps of trees, and fields, of which he had never heard: the marvels of the big, wide world! His eyes shone with his pleased excite- ment. And Jones, who had been observing the lad, muttered to himself, "Damned if I don't believe eight miles is more to the kid nor eight thou- sand is to me!" The American brushed a tear from his eye. In the "West, the Mountains shrouded their heads in the defiant storm-clouds. Along the ragged peaks, a sparkling red sun rolled in a yel- low sea of fire. The clouds poured over it. Here and there, a star twinkled weakly in a deep, blue haze. The red flame of the cloud-consuming fire shot venomously into the heavens, and scorched with its brilliancy the fast-appearing points of luminous light. But night was the ally of the soft, mellow lights, and the flames were quenched. The ashes and debris of the clouds sank low, and flowed over the earth. The fire within them flashed, and streaked their rushing advance, and the explosions of their hoarded power boomed and echoed ominously over the earth. Night and the shower were coming. The American turned to speak to the boy. Pa- cifico was crying. A casco going up the river crept along the bank. Throwing their whole strength on the long poles, the steel spike-tips of which clutched the clay at the water's edge, its bugadores tugged and 226 THE SON OF PIO strained and toiled for a gain of inches against the current. After the " Custom of the Land," Senor Pilote yelled, "Where are you going?" "Ca-uay-an" was the reply, given with the grin of one who knows what to expect. "Jesu!" Senor Pilote laughed derisively; "that is much work!" And his crew joined in the ridi- cule of the toiling bugadores on the up-bound boat. Never mind ! The forbearance of the suffering laborers under the taunts of their luckier fellows, will have its reward when they are down-bound and can laugh at those straining against the cur- rent. They have undoubtedly registered a vow to remember the casco of Pilote Juan Tangan, son of the Pilote Hermojenes Tangan. Above the Upper Bar, Pilote Juan tied up to the bank for the night. The bugadore who had been bailing, at once cooked the rice and begung. The remains of the chicken which Pacifico and the gambler had had, made a welcome addition to the meal of the bugadores. It was just that they should have it; when the American had had no food, they had given him of theirs, unappetizing as it may have been to him, and they had cooked for him since his servant had died of the cholera. Opposite them, a casco without cargo arid riding high, came to a halt in its rush down the river. "Where are you going?" a voice hailed from the darkness of mid-stream. THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUEN 227 To Pacifico, it was a well-known voice, a voice that sent the shivers creeping up his spine. "El Sargento of Badi," he chattered in warn- ing. With every appearance of indolence, Senor Pi- lote and his men climbed to their feet, and looked out over the shielding wicker-work. But each clutched in his hand a pole the murderous steel- tip of which fascinated the trembling lad. ' ' Ca-uay-an, " Senor Pilote lied, naming the far- thest up-river point. And as soon as he might rea- sonably be expected to have discerned the absence of lights on the other boat, he exclaimed, "Jesu! the pirates! They show no lights !" At the threat in that challenge, El Sargento, who desired no delay and no useless squabbling with belligerent boatmen, exposed the light. The faint illumination revealed the casco's cargo; members of the Municipal Police Force of Badi. "How long since a casco with an American passed?" El Sargento bawled. After questioning his crew in very audible tones, Senor Pilote hazarded the guess, "Not more than half an hour ago." "Gaining," El Sargento exulted, and the pursu- ers raced on to the North, El Sargento' s urgent "Tuc-uan, hombres, tuc-uan," growing fainter and fainter. But not until the river was silent again did the crew throw down their poles and return to their interrupted meal. 228 THE SON OF PIO Jones, swearing maledictions upon Pacifico and the noisy boatmen, crawled out from beneath the wickerwork covering. "Googoos kin kick up one awful fuss about noth- ing," he sneered; "I suppose each bunch knows the state of the health of the other gang's grand- mothers. Honest, kid, what was them Googoos gossiping about?" As Pacifico was too agitated to take up the cud- gels in behalf of his people, or to explain the real danger that had threatened, the argument died unborn. After the bugadores had eaten, they gathered around the gambler with many a prayerful re- quest that he bank a game of monte and deal for their sole benefit. Even the humor of winning back from the crew at night what they had stolen from him by day through increasing the charges for purchases, did not tempt Senor Jones to undertake the prepara- tions necessary for the successful manipulations of the cards, and the value of the petty pilferings offered no incentive. Besides, the isolation of the casco precluded any possibility of the men squan- dering their small change. On the next night, an anchorage at some town would permit a regular game, in which the boatmen could contribute their copper wealth, at the same time tempting the cov- etous local gamblers. It might have been worth while if the men had not already lost all of the ten pesos which each received in pay for the round THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUBN 229 trip of from five to nine weeks. But to go to so much trouble for a little change! Senor Jones emphatically refused. The bugadores still persisted. If any one of them had had any money, Jones hesitated, say a hundred pesos? He whis- tled. "It might be did," he muttered to himself, and gave Pacifico a most careful scrutiny. "A hundred pesos would pay me for what I lost by making the git-a-way from Badi after Se- nor Pilot' had the suckers a-coming for to-night," he reasoned, "and I'd be mighty proud of myself if I could make that kid play the come-on guy after the way he showed me up that time." Jones laughed. "Anyhow," he argued, "no Googoo kin keep the coin, and I might as well have that hundred pesos as let the kid lose it to some guy as ain't did nothing for him. Besides, it's bad for his morals to git the benefit of stolen goods," he chuckled. Jones nodded a grudging assent to the persis- tent importunities, and followed the bugadores inside the wickerwork covering. A smoking lantern, hung above the space be- tween the two divisions in which the cargo was loaded, cast a flickering, tantalizing light. Though the heat, humid and thick, was almost insufferable to the white man, the boatmen found in the fasci- nation of the prospective game a delightful pana- 230 THE SON OF PIO cea that transformed the oppressive surroundings into a pleasant retreat. Pacifico watched the play with anxious interest ; he wanted his new friend to win. But luck was against the white man. tl Perhaps your luck is unpropitious to-night. Perhaps it would be wiser to wait until to-mor- row," the lad suggested. "Perhaps," the gambler agreed, and went on losing. The Filipinos were delighted. "Luck is with us," they exulted, forgetting that it had been so every night. "Place a bet," they advised Pacifico. "Better," the American urged. "This is the chance to win enuff for going to Normal School in Manila." Pacifico shook his head. "Easiest money you ever see, kid," Jones hint- ed. "Normal School in Manila will never be no nearer." Pacifico shook his head slowly. Jones paused in dealing. "Oh, I see," he sneered, every unpleasant im- plication imaginable in the tone of his voice. "Them hundred pesos ain't yourn, and you're afraid of what the bugadores will think." Then he turned to the crew, and openly ridiculed Paci- fico. "The poor kid is a 'Poverty-Stricken,' " he explained. THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUEN 231 Though none of the boatmen could understand the English worded taunt, it had the desired effect on the lad at whom it was aimed. Pacifico dug his hand beneath his shirt. With a flourish, he placed a bet of ten pesos. And though he won. Jones smiled. "Ten of them pesos you need, kid," Jones droned. Again Pacifico won, and the bugadores indicated their desire to follow the play of the lucky plun- ger. " Twenty pesos," Jones muttered, "but I'd ruther see the kid git it for Normal School in Manila than to have the Googoos winning the plunks. ' ' The gambler opened his strong box, scooped out another handful of pesos, and clattered the coins on the deal-board. Pacifico 's eyes sparkled a sight of the silver wealth. Cupidity allied with his initial success captured his reason, and he surrendered to the fas- cination of the gambling frenzy. For a time, he won more often than he lost ; and when the luck did change, occasional successes tantalized him with the hope that another change of luck would restore at least the amount of his losses. He bet larger amounts, and more recklessly. Because the night-shower broke over the casco and rattled on the cover just as the American began to win, the Filipinos regarded it as the omen which had shifted the luck. The shower 232 THE SON OF PIO did not last long, scarcely longer than Pacifico 's hundred pesos. "With scarcely a regret, the lad saw his last coin go. He did not understand why he seemed to care so little. Only he was interested in noth- ing; nothing but a new sense of strangeness, a depressive sense of unreality. Discussing the vagaries of the ''little god of luck," the bugadores crawled out into the night. As many as could lay on the roof of the pilote's shack, slept there, while others found a bed along the curved top of the covering. One, whom his fellows would not allow near them, slept on the bamboo walk-way just above the surface of the water. As best he could in the cramped quarters within the boat, the American stretched out on a bale of tobacco. Opposite him lay Pacifico. Soon all. was quiet but for the grumbling voice of the white man, cursing the heat, the hardships of the country, the people. At last, even he was still. Only the bugadore on guard occasionally broke the intense silence, as, between hasty naps, he bailed out the water. Pacifico watched the stars. Their laughing, peaceful calm mocked him. He sobbed softly to himself. What mattered it if the tobacco-bale which the American cursed were a soft bed ! What mattered it if he were on his way to that Free- dom and Equality of Opportunity which he had craved! What mattered any thing ! Nothing. Not THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUEN 233 even the loss of the hundred pesos which were to have opened so many prospects, mattered. They were not home. Home? Home? He doubted if he had ever known such a thing as that word suggested, if home were more than a picture of a fevered brain. He wondered if any one in the whole, wide world, so vast, so terrible in its un- known possibilities, if any one among the number- less people of earth cared for him. His mother and father? He almost screamed. Would his enemies forget him? He feared that they would hunt him out. He was learning the torture in- flicted by a keen imagination during the solitude of night. "Oh, Jesu, Jesu!" he breathed. Emi- liana? Perhaps she made it worth while ! A little peace entered his soul. Pacifico's tossings disturbed Senor Jones. "The kid is nothing but a damned Googoo, nohow," he swore, "and I'm just going loco for thinking of taking a bite of the kid's story, and believing it's real cake. Hell! Who ever heard of a igurante, a common Googoo, with guts enuff to buck a Senor Presidente in the open, the way the kid says he done ! And Lasam is a bad one ! La- sam is all a white man wants to buck; and me and him is going to have another row some day. But the kid ain't no white man; his hide is as brown as the blackest Googoo 's, and no Googoo is got any business to have a hundred pesos. The yarn has got on my nerves," he reassured himself. "Me for the snooze." 234 THE SON OF PIO Hours later, Pacifico's eyes fell on a log float- ing toward the caseo. He could see but an end of it. Fascinated by its lifelessness, he stared at it. It floated alongside. Suddenly, it lifted itself over the extended bamboo walk-way, above the unconscious bugadore sleeping there. Hor- ror strangled Pacifico's shriek. The Thing's mouth opened, and the battle-array of needle- like teeth upon the pink-white field snapped into the victim. The man's death scream gurgled through the water that rushed into his mouth as the crocodile sank to the bottom with its feast. The cry aroused the boat. A glance at the place where their comrade had lain told the bugadores the nature of the tragedy. Fear possessed them. Pacifico joined their wailing. And when at last they said, "As God wills it," and again sought a troubled slumber, he marveled. But the phan- toms which he conjured out of the darkness kept his tossings company. Peace came only with the first paling of the night. Unconscious of the scene's beauty, the lad watched the blackness of the eastern sky melt into the dawning day, until the last shadow was ab- sorbed in the fire of the approaching sun. Like a dotted mask, the night and its stars rolled back, and the sun crawled above the clouds beyond the Sierra Madre Range. It was day. With the mere promise of day-light, the buga- dores aroused from their uneasy sleep, and, de- pressed, ate their rice and begiwg, and got under THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOURN 235 way, but it was not until the sun was three hours high that they forgot the ill omen of the night. At about the same time the heat drove the Amer- ican from his lazy lolling. Swearing vigorously, he came out to suffer. "What made the racket last night?" he yawned. Pacifico stared at him. "A crocodile ate one of the men," he explained. Jones laughed. "No importa," said he. "A dead Googoo is a good Googoo." Pacifico shivered, and lapsed into a meditative silence. This American was certainly different from others the lad had known; at one moment, the white man seemed heartless and inconsiderate, while the next, some kindness to the boy contra- dicted that estimate. The gambler's voice interrupted Pacifico 's rev- erie. " What you got to eat?" "Bice and begwng, sir. I saved some for you." Jones grunted his disgust. "No more rotten fish in mine," said he. Such scorn for the consideration he had tried to show hurt the boy, and he subsided. Together, they squatted on the wicker-work cov- ering, the sun overhead burning down on them. Not a cooling breath rippled the surface of the river. All nature, all life was exhausted. The squeak of the oars alone broke the silence. 236 THE SON OF PIO "The kid ain't no welcher," the inanimate sticks creaked, dinning a word with eveiy jerk. Jones swore, and promptly denied the impres- sive indifference with which the lad had taken the loss of his money. Careless of the close humidity, Pacifico went to sleep like a wise Filipino and escaped the torture of the heat. The white man sat in the sun until his Back burned and his head felt as though it had swelled to the point of explosion. Seeking relief beneath the cover, he found but a closer, hotter, tobacco- laden, fish-stinking, musty furnace; and fell out of it almost at once into the relief of the parch- ing heat. Weak and hungry, he paced up and down the walk-way. Though he failed to feel the coveted stir of air, the exercise occupied his mind. He tore off his clothes, sticky with perspiration, but the sun dried the vitality out of his skin, and he put them back on again. He dangled his bare feet in the water until they were sun-burned. Then his socks scoffed his feet, and he cursed himself for a fool. "The kid ain't no welcher," dinned the oars. "I'm sure seeing things," Jones muttered; "even a smart Googoo is nothing but a Googoo." He hesitated. "But the kid didn't squeal when I took them pesos away from nim ; he ain't acted like he cared for 'em enuff to steal 'em," he ad- mitted. "If they was hissn, and I S 'posing he THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOURN 237 did have the guts to buck old Porky Lasam? It ain't the smartness what gits me, but he lost them pesos like a white man! Oh, hell, I'm sure seeing things ; a Googoo is just a Googoo ! ' ' The hot, moist air jerked into his lungs, scorched his throat. And when the pain of his puckered, leathery tongue rasping over a leather-like palate became unendurable, he stretched himself out on the bamboo extension and, with his face buried in the river, sucked in great gulps of the murky wa- ter. Cholera? Dysentery? Such trifles did not matter. Storm clouds herding rapidly together in the east beyond the Sierra Madre Range attracted his attention. They welled up, higher and higher, vibrating in a slow, rhythmic majesty, and hurled themselves against the impassive mountain bul- wark, which threw them back defeated. Time and again, they attacked the barrier in a rolling rush, unavailingly. But the rocky dam succumbed at last to a mightier effort, and the storm poured into the valley. When its showers reached the gambler, he stood out in them, welcomed the cool- ness of their enveloping, liquid sheets. Through the rain, purring over the river's sur- face and rattling on the bamboo, came the regu- lar squeak of the oars, impassive: "The kid ain't no welcher!" The showers passed. And still came that regular squeak, impassive, dinning the judgment; "Grit makes an Ermericun what don 't squeal. ' ' 238 THE SON OF PIO A sudden jar, as the casco crunched into the sand, threw the gambler flat on his face and sprawled the bugadores into the river. "The Middle Bar has shifted," El Pilot e cried. "Quick, to the work." The men sprang back onto the boat and rushed for their poles. Each man in his own place, they drove the steel teeth of the slender poles into the bed of the river, flung the knob of the free ends against their bare, knotted shoulders, clenched their toes upon the cleats across the bam- boo walkway, clasped their hands about the foot- rail, and, at word from Senor Pilote, dove down on the poles, straining mightily in a vain effort to back the casco off. When the third effort failed, they began the laborious work of see-sawing off the bar. Jones stared his surprise. "Them fellers is sure a-working!" he ex- claimed. "Didn't think a Googoo could git sich a move onto hisself I" It was four hours before they had freed the casco, and the pilote had picked a cautious, snaky course over the bar, the bugadores poling. Then they tied up to the bank for a merited rest, and to eat ; but chiefly to rest, for bugadores must row, and a pilote must steer, even when a casco floats down the river. "If the kid did buck 'His Porcininity' of Badi the way he says he done!" Jones pondered. "I ain't got no use for old Lasam; he's a bad one." THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOURN 239 When they were well under way again, Pacifico discovered a straggling flotilla of miniature boats and bamboo rafts. "The sacrifices, sir," he cried. "Where? What?" the American questioned, showing but a languid interest. "Floating down the river, sir. Coming this way," Pacifico excitedly answered, pointing to- ward them. "What are them for!" "My people are You call it superstitious? Yes. They believe that God has sent the Demons of Cholera to punish them for their sins. So the Governor of Isabela Province issued a Proclama- tion. To appease the wrath of the Spirit of Wa- ters, through whom God has visited the Cholera Demons upon us, Senor Excelenzia Governor Cris- tobal ordered the people to make sacrifices. Every day, at night time, my people send out little boats and rafts, filled with many offerings for the Spirit of the Waters. There are rice and begung, and roasted pig and eggs delicious with the young chicken, that the Spirit may feast. There is bino to drink, and candles to give light, and money to buy many things. All these my people offer to appease the Spirit of the Waters." "I do not believe in that superstition, sir. Yet it is true that my people, who have been faith- ful in sending forth many offerings, have had less cholera than the Tagalogs of Manila. But I do not believe the superstition." 240 THE SON OF PIO "The hell you don't," the American drawled. Pacifico looked foolish, and Jones laughed. Which made Pacifico wonder if the American, through his race's uncanny power of discovering secrets, knew that he had made his own offerings.. "That proves you're a Googoo," Jones sneered; "just a damned igurante." Jones breathed freely once more; and thanked the "god of Luck" for the gratifying revelation, for this fortunate set- tlement of all his doubts. The bugadores hailed the advent of the fleet with shouts of delight. They intercepted the boats and rafts, one after another, and despoiled them of their cargoes. Silently, amazed, horrified, Pacifico watched the desecration of the sacred gifts. And when they approached Mapia late that af- ternoon, the crew were careless of lifers priva- tions. Were they not drunk with much and varied bvnof Were not their bellies full of suckling pig and ancient eggs? And did they not have extra copper clackers to lose to the American at night? Blessed with the ennui of satiety, they amused themselves by smashing whatever straggling crafts they met, nor did they longer bother to re- lieve them of more than the copper coins. Thus was the Spirit of the Waters appeased. ' ' Almost to Mapia. You 'd better drop the bluff, kid," Jones advised. "You kin stick to this cas- co, and we '11 make a clean run to the Coast with- out stopping for no games at night," he offered. THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUEN 241 "I kin smuggle you aboard a steamer at Lalloc, or at Aparri, and you kin make a clean git-a-way from this Province to Manila," he pointed out as an advantage of the plan. He hesitated; he wanted to know for a fact, wanted to reassure himself of the justice of his final conclusion, want- ed to ask one question; but a life-time of con- forming to his own standards of courtesy over- powered his undue curiosity. " You ain't a white man, just a Googoo, but I ain't asking you what you done," he boasted; "I'm taking a chanct that it ain't too bad, and I'd take a chanct any day to put one over on old Porky Lasam of Badi. Shall I tell Senor Pilot' to run by?" Unheeding, Pacifico stared ahead at his Land of Promise, at Mapia, at the Domain of Senor Presidente Caronan, the shrewd, wily, sinister Caronan whose ignorantes loved him. Though the Town gave to the oppressed Freedom and Op- portunity, though it held! Hope, some depression shadowed the lad. Jones signaled the "pilot" to swing back into the current of the river. "It's putting one over on 'His Porcininity' Lasam, and revenge is sweeter nor Googoo pe- sos," he argued with cupidity; "we'll miss the pickings for a couple of nights, and make Porky Lasam cuss." "Mapia, sir?" the lad questioned, pointing to- ward the landing. Jones stared. 242 THE SON OF PIO "The telegraph is quicker nor any boat," he warned; "last night, every town in the Province got the word to keep a watch for you. They'll be waiting for you at the landing, and it'll be back to Porky Lasam to face the music." Pacifico laughed. "Senor Presidente Caronan, the americanista, rules in Mapia," he exulted, "and the * hard-head' Lasam of Badi has felt the retaliation of the saga- cious Caronan, and submitted to it; Senor La- sam will not arouse Senor Caronan." The lad's seeming lack of comprehension per- plexed Jones. "Smart enuff to catch me, even if I was careless, and too dense to see his chanct!" he puzzled. "Them two don't jibe." He shook his head. Once again, he tried to make the dan- ger plain. "S 'posing that casco with the Badi police is at the Landing waiting for you? S 'pos- ing they arrests you?" Pacifico shrugged his shoulders. ' ' Let them, if they dare, ' ' he sneered. ' ' Senor Caronan rules in Mapia, and he is my friend. In Mapia, there will be witness for witness, blow for blow, until the American Doctor comes again, and he will know that my story is true. And when I have told the Americans how Senor Lasam or- dered all the people to ignore the Doctor's wise precautions for suppressing the cholera?" the lad laughed, mirthlessly. "I, alone, opposed Se- nor Lasam 's reelection, and I have fled." THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUEN 243 Jones flopped down on the bamboo wicker-work for support, and studied this strange specimen of Googoo. The gloom which the stress of excite- ment had driven from the boy's face, again set- tled upon him. "Grit, just sand, is what makes a white man, leastwise, a Ermericun," Jones muttered, "and the kid is browner nor many a Googoo. The damned Googoo knowed what a igurante is up against when he bucks a presidente; he runned away from what was coming to him. But Gawd ! If the Googoo did have the guts to buck old Porky Lasam ! ' ' Jones ordered Senor Pilote to make the land- ing. "I'll just put the kid up against it for fair, and call his bluff," he grinned. Gloomier, sadder, more strained grew the lad's face. Such a strange, strange, lonesome landing- place ! "Want to land, kid?" Jones inquired. Pacifico nodded assent. "You real-ly mean it?" Jones persisted in ques- tioning, his skepticism dragging out the words. Turning his back in order to hide a single tear that crept down his nose, Pacifico nodded again. Then once more, he stared forlornly at the un- familiar Landing, which bounded both his Refuge from Senor Lasam 's vengeance and his Exile from friends, and home, and kindred, and sweetheart. 244 THE SON OF PIO "Thinking of them hundred pesos, and Normal School in Manila," Jones concluded, "or" Jones avoided formulating the picture of the other alter- native, the picture of what Porky Lasam's dia- bolical plan for revenge would have brought upon one courageous enough to expose his tyrannical impositions on the people. "Grit is what makes a Man, and the kid is a Googoo Nigger," Jones argued. "This river life is gitting me ; no Googoo has got that much nerve. The kid '11 forgit his bluff when he sees 'em waiting for him." Jones sprang to his feet, pointed toward the extra policeman at the Landing, and exclaimed, "He is waiting for you, kid." Pacifico nodded his head, choked back his emo- tions, and his subdued voice explained, "It doesn't matter, sir; that is Senor Caronan's Sargento de Policia." Jones fell back and stared at the enigma. His eyes followed the quiet, self-contained boy's prep- arations to leave, preparations that now amounted only to the collection of his books. " 'Tain't them pesos; the damned kid ain't thinking of the pesos," voiced the gambler's sur- prise at the error in his conclusions. "The river sure has drove me loco," he mumbled. He leaned over the walk-way and soused his head in the wa- ter. "The kid give me the truth of it; he took it out of old Porky Lasam ! " he sputtered. ' ' Gawd ! Gawd! Gawd!" he muttered, as he crept under the bamboo wicker-work covering, "GRIT, just THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOURN 245 SAND, is what makes a white man ! ' ' Above the clatter and fuss of making fast at the Landing, above the jabber of orders and replies, sounded the melodious, clinking tone of silver pesos. Pacifico jumped to the shore. "Hold on, kid," Jones called. " Ain't you for- gitting them pesos o' yourn?" Pacifico stared at the white man. "My pesos, sir?" he questioned. Then, his mind grasping the intent of the American's offer, he shook his head, and smiled. "I staked them against pesos that I would have kept, sir, and you won them in a fair deal," he declined. The gambler's face brightened. "You mean you won't take back no money what you lost in a fair deal?" he questioned. Pacifico missed the emphasis on the words, "In a fair deal." "Certainly not," he stated. Jones chuckled, and followed the lad to the shore. "You're a smart one, kid, and so I'm proud of myself," he exulted. "But you gotta take them pesos," he insisted, shoving a small coin-sack into the lad's unresponsive hands. Pacifico 's resentment at the insult expressed it- self in the vigor with which he threw the bag on the ground. Jones laughed. "Aw, that's a' right, kid. When I'm wearing whiskers, I'm Brown, the guy you showed up in 246 THE SON OF PIO Badi one night, and when I ain't got none, I'm Jones," he explained, "and Brown or Jones, I'm a bear for skinning the damned Googoos, like a Christian ought to skin 'em," he confessed. "But when it comes to a white man, it's different; I ain't never done no white man dirt, kid, and it's nothing but GRIT, just SAND, what makes a white man, and well I guess," he floundered, "I guess Gawd A 'mighty must 've slipped with the cut of the cards when He flipped a White Man into that Googoo Hide o' yourn. Gimme your paw," he demanded. With a strange mixture of feelings, Pacifico watched the casco, the last link between his old life and the new, sweep out into the current, turn down stream, and shoot around the bend in the river. From mid-stream, the American bawled, "Play it square, kid, and don't go blowing on me. I got to make a living, skinning Googoos. ' ' The words of that request carried clearly across the water, but Jones' final message floated as faintly as a lover's whispered caress, so rapidly did the boat move. Pacifico scarcely heard the warning, ' ' Caronan knows how I love Lasam. You had better tell the little runt I give you them pe- sos for bucking old Porky Lasam. Then Skinny won't git no suspicions about a igurante having a hundred pesos, like I done." El Sargento of Mapia picked up the bag of coins, and handed them to the new arrival. His THAT GOOGOO HIDE 0' YOUEN 247 avaricious eyes measured the dimensions of the sack, estimated the value of its contents. With the incriminating ''circumstantial evi- dence" under an arm, Pacifico plodded dubiously toward Senor Caronau's Tribunal. CHAPTER XD3 THE ELDEST OP THE SLAVES ON their way back to Badi, El Sargento and the Policia buried the cholera corpses, that their industry might appease Senor Presidente's wrath with them for permitting Pacifico's escape. Before departing on a casco in pursuit of the lad, they drank much cooling water. Later the same night, Panfilo quenched his thirst from the oyer that the three had used, and laid down, and died. His elder brother, Guillermo, discovered the interpretation of the plague's eccentricities. ' * So God punishes even those whose example in attending the American School misled their peo- ple," he mourned, for the benefit of whomever might harbor resentment for such evil guidance. Emiliana did not see El Sargento and his men bury the corpses, nor did she hear of the pursuit that failed, nor did she know that Senor Sargento, before he died with the cholera, had reported to Senor Presidente Lasam and in the presence of Guillermo, that she had warned Pacifico and had aided the lad's escape. So she spent the next morning in dreaming of her love and in glancing out of the window with anxious solicitude. A thought of Guillermo never occurred to her. 248 THE ELDEST OF THE SLAVES 249 Senor Presidente's disgraced nephew had shown his interest in her. For that, she hated him even more fervently than she did his brother, Panfilo, although the attentions of both were equally obnoxious to her. Yet Guillermo's man- ner was the more repulsive. But if Emiliana had known all there was to know when she first saw her father, Senor Presi- dente, and Guillermo coming toward her home, she might have obeyed the instinct which prompt- ed her to seek refuge in as far a flight as possi- ble. As it was, her hatred for the two prospec- tive visitors was so much stronger than her in- herent respect for the authority which they rep- resented, that she avoided her proper duties as hostess, and sprang out of the window, scarcely waiting to kick the tobacco leaves out of the way and upon the pile in the corner of the bare room. Trembling for fear the men would discover her discourteous ruse, she hid among the pigs until her father and his guests had filed into the house. Then she stole under the shack, and squatted be- neath that corner in which the pile of tobacco leaves covered the openings between the bamboo slats of the floor. "I have come to talk about the terms of my mortgage on your crop," Senor Presidente ex- plained. "Wen, senor," the ignorante, Juan, agreed. Emiliana knew that her father trembled. She did herself. Terms which steadily increased the 250 THE SON OF PIO amount of their debt, in spite of privations and efforts to reduce it, could become no more oner- ous tban they were. A change in the present terms could mean nothing but an intention to dis- possess them. The girl jglanced at the rich, fast- maturing crop of tobacco, upon which the family had built so many hopes. Though she wanted to cry out in protest against the injustice of fore- closure, she blinked the tears from her eyes and controlled herself. "You are so lazy, Juan," Senor Presidente blandly accused, "you are so lazy that your debt is growing greater than the value of your whole place. ' ' "Not lazy-, senor. Just unlucky,'* Juan stut- tered in contradiction of the illustrious man. Only the creak of the slats, as Juan shifted un- easily, guiltily, from one foot to the other, broke the long, intense silence that followed. Emiliana imagined the glare that would greet such an affront, and shivered. "I say that you are lazy," Senor Presidente icily reminded the presumptuous ignorante. 1 'Wen, senor/' Juan faltered. Emiliana scarcely breathed. "I can't let things continue as they are," Se- nor Presidente declared. "It was necessary to warn you to-day, although my beloved nephew, Panfilo, died last night and my heart is very sad. ' ' He blew his nose as a mark of agitation. "Wen, senor/' the laborer mumbled. THE ELDEST OF THE SLAVES 251 The girl stared dumbly at the promising leaves, leaves so unusually large and full of aroma. "But you can do something to lessen your debt." "Wen, senor." Emiliana listened. "My heart is kind to my people, and I would forgive their faults, and help them out of their difficulties. " The ignorante wondered what new imposition he could anticipate after that familiar preface, yet remembered the conventions well enough to fill out the pause with the expected, "Wen, se- nor." The girl sneered. "You have a daughter?" Senor Lasam insinu- ated. "Wen, senor." Become his mistress ! At the thought, Emiliana cringed. "She is young and healthy, and fairly desir- able as to form and beauty," Senor Presidente conceded in justification of his notice. "There are many better," he stated in belittlement of the specified charms, lest undue weight be given to his admission. "Call her." For all the seconds of a minute, there was si- lence. The protection of the departed El Dange- roso, with his swift, inevitable, queer, American retaliations, even the learned defiance of Pacifico, would have warranted a refusal. But in the end, 252 THE SON OF PIO Senor Presidents 's sure vengeance would gain from the defenseless whatever he was denied. Cen- turies of oppressions had ingrained in the fiber of Juan's caste the knowledge of the "Immutable Law." Emiliana followed the creak of the slats beneath the shuffle of Juan's feet toward the win- dow. "Emiliana," he quavered, an agony of protest in the tremor of his voice. The girl's instinctive obedience to parental au- thority restrained her from an impulsive flight. She prayed, Oh, how she prayed! for deliver- ance. Again came the nervous call, "Emiliana." She hesitated. Plight would surrender her par- ents to tortures and exactions the ingenuity of which she thoroughly appreciated. And what hope of escape had she f A woman sought by the policia! A few hours at most would bring about her return to face both her fate and the suffering that her disobedience would cause her father. Again the call, "Emiliana." "As God wills it," she moaned in despair, > and obeyed. "Passable, very passable!" Senor Lasam ad- mitted, pointedly studying her. "She has found favor in my nephew's eyes. He must have a woman to help with the housework. Do you com- prehend?" He slapped his thigh and cackled his amusement at the evident humor of the insinuation. Then THE ELDEST OF THE SLAVES 253 he squirted through the window a blood-red stream from his chew of buja f and fastened his piggish eyes on the girl's pulsing form. "Jesu!" he exclaimed, "how she hates us! But they are all like that at first." He patted Gui- llermo on the back. ' ' She is a deer, to be hunted and tamed." The disdain in Emiliana's dark, fathomless eyes, the defiance in her poise, won his unwilling admiration. "Jesu, but she is worth while!" he ejaculated. "It is lucky for you, Guillermo, that I am an old man ; if I were young- er, I would take her away from you." Intense, furious, the girl defied them. But her burst of temper only provoked mirthful roars. "You will do as you are told," Senor Presi- dente sneered. The reaction from the stress of her own temer- ity unnerved Emiliana. "I don't want to go," she pleaded with them. "So? That doesn't matter. But by-and-by you will be glad you came," Senor Lasam as- sured her. His confident assumption that her prospective fate was a fortunate one, only intensified her loy- alty to Pacifico. She drew back. "I won't go," she cried, her voice full, steady, defiant. "Perhaps she has a lover," Guillermo sug- gested. The light in her eyes boasted of it. 254 THE SON OF PIO Senor Lasam shrugged his shoulders. Think- ing of Pacifico, he rubbed his hands together, slowly, speculatively, vindictively. "So? Let her forget him to whom she will never go," he advised. "The lover will remem- ber," he gloated. Except for a hard gleam in the girl's eyes, she ignored the taunt. Losing patience with her unyielding determina- tion, Senor Lasam commanded, "Juan, tell your daughter that she has carried the 'Custom' of resistance far enough. Tell her it is time to de- sist." Crooking his fingers, her father faltered, "Wen, senor." But though he licked his lips, no other words issued from his gurgling throat. Emiliana flung out a defiant * ' No. ' ' Both Senor Presidente and Guillermo stared at the girl, at a woman who dared to mean her refusal. The experience was a new one, an un- pleasant one. Such a contemptuous affront to their exalted dignity exasperated them. "I'll teach you to insult me," Guillermo raged. "You shall regret your stubbornness; I will buy you, and then you shall learn. Do you under- stand?" Emiliana did. The fate of Ana, his former slave mistress, was fresh in her mind. Such a prospect might entice many women of her race, but to her, it was bitter. She cringed before his leering gaze. THE ELDEST OF THE SLAVES 255 But when Guillermo, already considering her his property, would have punished her, she bit him, wherefore the enraged pair clubbed her into submission, as is the proper fashion of subduing a disobedient, recalcitrant woman. Her father, the product of three centuries of oppression, stood by, tearful, yet cowed by the power and position of her assailants, while they examined her points, like a carabao's, and put their price upon her. "I will allow you thirty pesos on your debt," Senor Presidente decided j ' ' and that is too much after her insults." Juan faltered his assenting, "Wen, senor," but his resentment was decidedly lessened by his rec- ognition of the distinction that Senor Guillermo 's choice of his daughter would confer upon himself ; the relationship with the illustrious family would confer upon him power and prestige among his fellows. The people along the trail came out of their shacks to shout questions at the girl whom Senor Presidente and his nephew drove before them to become the favorite of Guillermo 's harem. Though the girl with the bowed head gave no answer, the whole town knew by nightfall that Senor Guillermo had chosen a new " woman," Emiliana, the beautiful daughter of the laborer, Juan Danga. At twilight, Emiliana sat in the midst of the women of the household, and dumbly stared into 256 THE SON OF PIO her dismal future. Her companions, envying her, ridiculed her sorrow. But one, The Eldest, tried to comfort her. "It is useless to grieve, Little One," said she; "God has willed it so." A tear stole down Emiliana's cheek. "We must submit to God's Will." And the child cried on the breast of her who was "The Eldest," and whose face bore the lines of sorrow. "When Guillermo tires of you and brings an- other, you will still have your food and clothes, and there will be but little work," the woman ex- plained. "Pacifico," the child moaned into the motherly ear; "he fled their vengeance, and they have taken me. Oh, help me, you that understand, ' ' she begged. For an hour, "The Eldest Woman" held the limp form of the child in her arms, and stared out through the barred window into the far, far dis- tance. She saw, not the flashing fire of the dark, heavy clouds that hung upon the Mountains, but through them, beyond them, saw a misty, indis- tinct picture of The Past, a blurred Land of Some- where that existed only in her memory of Once Upon a Time. Sometimes The Eldest doubted the reality of her memories. Perhaps the golden skies of That Time, its laughter and music, even the King of Somewhere, were only dreams. The End- less Time since the Magic Land had vanished, THE ELDEST OF THE SLAVES 257 measured but ten years. The Eldest shivered. Her dark, tired, sad eyes glanced down at the girl cradled in her arms. But now there was a grave in the church-yard, and she alone remem- bered where it was, whose it was. And some- times a flower decked it. And that grave WAS a reality ! Her eyes were limpid and moist as she bent over and kissed the girl's quivering lips. Perhaps she only planted a long, long, lingering kiss on the lit- tle ear. Perhaps. Who knows? Aloud, she ad- vised, "Please your master. It is the best way." Emiliana sprang to her feet, and laughed, de- risively. "That is so much better, Little One," The Eld- est approved. "It is well to be cheerful; a sober face chills a man." But when Guillermo sought Emiliana that night, she was gone. His frantic search for her availed but to reveal the door of the secret passage im- perfectly latched ; wherefore he beat The Eldest Woman for her carelessness, and vowed many punishments for Emiliana when he should find her again. But though the police searched every barrio, every rancho, every field, every shack, every jungle, every trail, they found no trace of her. And not even a rumor of her whereabouts reached them in answer to their many inquiries. Senor Guillermo personally searched the shack of Pio Baliuag, suspected of concealing her only 258 THE SON OF PIO because he was Pacifioo 's father. Pio fawned and cringed, and directed all inquisitive eyes to every bare corner of the room, even to the single ob- struction, a mound of suffocating tobacco leaves that hid from the notice of visitors the most di- lapidated portion of the bamboo slat-floor. "With her hands, Pio's woman energetically scooped the scattered leaves high, high up out of the way of the illustrious senor's feet. And no Evil Spirit suggested that Emiliana's trembling form agi- tated that pile of tobacco leaves. CHAPTER XIV THE WAIL OF THE CAKABAO THE little, shriveled Senor Caronan laughed silently. "So?" he chuckled, a noiseless chuckle that was more a muscular spasm than an indication of mirth. "So Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam and his nephew, Guillermo, would claim the ap- proval of God for their administration of the af- fairs of Badi, because no member of their family has had the cholera?" He chuckled again. "And last night, Senor Lasam '& youngest nephew, Pan- filo, died with the cholera," he laughed. "Jesu!" exclaimed Pacifico. But for the mo- ment, the shock of the news stunned his compre- hension of its full import. "And you alone dared to oppose Senor Lasam 's reelection!" Senor Caronan meditated. "Very wise! Very courageous! Perhaps a little too daring ! And if you had not escaped without bury- ing the corpses, perhaps the death of hia oppo- nent with cholera would have confirmed his claim of having God's approval. A very shrewd plan." The far-reaching effect of Panfilo 's death upon the campaign in Badi flashed into Pacifico 's mind. 259 260 THE SON OF PIO "Panfilo's death from cholera will convince the people, and they will elect Senor Guarrin," the lad exulted. Senor Caronan shrugged his shoulders. To him, the facts of life, as experience had taught them, were matters of indifference, matters not worth an outburst of wrath. "The people are fools, and ignorant," he re- minded Pacifico. "Some explanation, perhaps this, perhaps that, will make even such a catastro- phe as Panfilo's death appear a misfortune suf- fered for befriending the people. The people are fools.' 1 But surely, the people will see that supporting Senor Lasam will not save them from cholera!" Pacifico argued. "The people are fools," Senor Caronan re- peated. "Who will remind them of Guillermo's words? You have fled." The sharp declaration seemed an accusation, a charge that a duty had been evaded. Pacifico dropped his hands to his sides, as though he would drop every defense but that in the simplicity of the statement; "I knew that they would kill me, if I stayed in Badi." "Unh," Senor Caronan grunted in acknowledg- ment of that evident fact. He paced across the room and back again. "Senor Lasam was very careless, else you would not have been warned," he stated in criticism of his enemy's sagacity. THE WAIL OF THE CAKABAO 261 "So you want to live in Mapia? To be my serv- ant?" "Si, senor." "And you speak English?" "Si, senor. For five years, I served the great American, El Dangeroso, and always spoke Eng- lish with him, until now I speak the language like an American," Pacifico proudly explained; "El Dangeroso himself has said it." Senor Caronan's calculating eyes measured the lad. They approved of him. His decision was as abrupt, as direct, as his attention to the lad's im- personal narrative of events in Badi had seemed indifferent. "I will make you one of Mapia 's Town Clerks; and you can interpret for me when the American Officials come here." Pacifico 's eyes sparkled. Very gravely, he thanked his benefactor for this unexpected prefer- ment. Only an enormous respect for the dignity of a presidente restrained him from dancing about the room. The social distinction, the independ- ence of his new, Official Position colored life with gay and gaudy hues and promised a quick fulfil- ment of his dearest dream. At most, but a few weeks would pass before Emiliana could come to him. His longings sang, "Emiliana," to the ac- companiment of unknown, wonderful chords, now plaintive, now majestic, yet always joyful, which his imagination struck on the harp-strings of his heart. His dreams that night were a jumble of 262 THE SON OF PIO his sweetheart, his American friends, Town- Clerks, interpreters, and phantoms of Senor La- sam and hard work. The duties of a Town-Clerk proved simple, re- quiring but neatness and care, and Pacifico quickly mastered the details of the work. At first, he lolled more over the records, smoked his cigar with greater gusto, changed his pen oftener, and altogether made more fuss over his task, than all the rest of the clerks, who were thoroughly ac- customed to the sense of their own importance. But he carefully hid his antics from his colleagues ; the ado was intended merely to convince himself that he had really become a principals, one of the class born to rule. Within a couple of days, the novelty wore away and he settled down to a more sedate attention to business. As Official Interpreter, Pacifico lived with Senor Caronan, an arrangement that permitted Senor Presidente to pose before his people as a student of English. The pretence gratified both his own vanity and public pride in him. Of greater value, Pacifico 's sincere efforts to teach the old man English occupied the lad's thoughts at meal hours and in the evenings, to the partial exclusion of the depression which otherwise might have overpow- ered him. Just a week after his arrival in Mapia, Pacifico mentioned his sense of foreboding, the feeling that some impending disaster threatened him. THE WAIL OF THE CARABAO 263 Senor Caronan glanced at the lad's drawn face, and smiled sympathetically. "It is the great longing for the gossip and laughter of friends," he explained, "which al- ways comes at night to those who are not ac- customed to being away from home. It will pass, ' ' he comforted. "Let us think of our dinner; we have enough troubles ahead of us this afternoon, and it is seldom that we have such excellent veni- son." El Sargento entered from the Assembly Hall of the Tribunal. "Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam of Badi, for a visit," the policeman announced, unctuously rolling out the syllables that he might do full credit to his Official Position of Sargento de Policia. The single word "Jesu!" was Senor Caronan 's only betrayal of surprise. He hastened out of the smaller room, and gushed, "Well, well, my friend! This is a pleasure." The two enemies fervently shook hands. Trembling, certain that his foreboding was about to be fulfilled, Pacifico crept to the door through which Senor Caronan had just passed. "How is that!" he heard Senor Caronan ask. "You did not pass through Mapia this morning." "The direct trail between Badi and Dacal is quite passable at the present time, ' ' Senor Lasam explained. "Unh," Senor Caronan commented. Other than that he waited in silence for Senor Lasam to ex- 264 THE SON OF PIO plain his reason for taking the indirect trail upon returning. " Business compelled me to make the trip, al- though I have had a great sorrow," Senor Lasam wailed. He paused while he trumpeted his nose. "My nephew, Panfilo, died with the cholera." Senor Lasam repeated the symbol of grief. "He was a good boy, a smart boy." Senor Caronan solicitously tendered the conven- tional condolences. "I hope to see you at the wake," Senor Lasam invited. ' ' Jesu f Then you will see a woman ! " he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. "But such a tem- per! Guillermo has a task before him, I say; to tame her! Jesu!" A terrible expectancy gripped Pacifico ; the lad clenched his nails into the palms of his hands. But Senor Caronan 's voice revealed only a languid, polite interest. "Who is she?" the little, old man asked, to satisfy the demands of courtesy. Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam 's corpu- lency swelled to the full limit that the added strain on the buttons of his coat would allow, and his eyes gloate'd over the weazened, despised Caro- nan, whose officious protection of Pacifico had failed to ward off this shrewd revenge on that young, ignorante upstart. That he might lose none of the relish of his triumph, Senor Lasam fondly tongued the name, "E-mi-li-a-na, the beau- tiful daughter of the laborer, Juan Da-nga." THE WAIL OF THE CARABAO 265 Speech, thought, understanding paralyzed, Pa- cifico swayed, tottered, sank to the floor. Like a dumb beast, he could only feel. Senor Caronan heard the name with that same, guileless, innocent, mask-like expression that al- ways accompanied his dealings with his enemies. It revealed nothing. But as he remembered that Emiliana was the name of a woman whom Pacifico had planned to bring to Mapia in the near fu- ture, he comprehended. And Guillermo had taken her! Senor Caronan was well acquainted with Guillermo, and correctly assumed the method of the taking. By FORCE ! And just to boast of it, Senor Lasam had traveled the more arduous, triangular trail, instead of the direct one between Dacal and Badi? Now, among the people of the North Provinces, the man who could, with im- punity, flaunt his evil triumph over Senor Caro- nan in Senor Caronan 's presence and in Senor Caronan 's own Town of Mapia, immediately won a reputation for marvelous sagacity. Senor Caro- nan appreciated what the public would anticipate. Suitable retaliation! Senor Caronan expected to manage that. Or to get the girl, which would prove a greater humiliation for Senor Lasam. Senor Caronan 's eyelids scarcely flickered. "Well, well! Your nephew is lucky in finding such an attractive woman," he complimented. "E-mi-!i-a-na?" he pondered, and shook his head. * ' I don 't know her. ' ' Senor Lasam meant the point to be clear. 266 THE SON OF PIO "She was the affianced of Pacifico Baliuag," he remarked, most casually. "So!" Senor Caronan exclaimed. "Well, well, friend, you HAVE rendered the boy a good serv- ice ; he is well rid of the faithless hussy. I thank you for " Senor Lasam interrupted. Only the whole tale could effectively elucidate the sting of the inge- nious revenge, the extent of his own power over the people. With many an amused snicker in ap- preciation of his own sagacity, he told how he had kept Juan Danga in peonage, how Guillermo had coveted the daughter in vain, how he had taken her in part payment of Juan's much paid debt, how uncle and nephew had clubbed her into sub- mission and had driven her before them on the trail. Senor Lasam did not hear the sobs which punc- tuated his tale. But Senor Caronan did. "Well, well! Women are strange," the little man commented. ' ' Sometimes it takes much show of force to make a woman stop her shamming and accept what her ambitions really aim at. ' ' Such obtuseness angered Senor Lasam. ' ' The little fool ! " he yelled. ' l She meant it, and ran away; when Guillermo sought her, she was gone. The fool!" he sneered. " Think of all that Guillermo would have given her ! But now?" The sweep of his hand was expressive. Senator Caronan smiled, and that slight flicker THE WAIL OF THE CABABAO 267 of the lips checked Senor Lasam's imprudent speech. Senor Lasam rushed on with his expla- nation. "Guillermo couldn't foresee the treason of 'The Eldest "Woman/ who aided the girl's escape. And her lover's father shall feel our vengeance for his presumption in hiding her," he threatened. "I found her this morning on my way to Dacal, and the women won't allow her to get away again; a flogging teaches obedience," he hissed. Senor Caronan's most hearty congratulations did not lessen the zest of Senor Lasam's enjoy- ment. Very loftily, and thoroughly satisfied with himself and the situation, Senor Presidente Don Miguel Lasam of Badi took his departure. "You 'hard-head'!" Senor Caronan contempt- uously muttered, as he sauntered back to finish his interrupted luncheon, and to plan. In the door- way, he stumbled over Pacifico. He paused. Thoughtfully, he studied the heap huddled on the floor. Not a pang of his servant's despair escaped his comprehension. An amusing plan suggested itself; he smiled. His long, careful survey of the boy had estimated the soul within, and the es- timate pleased him. He laughed, sardonically, and knelt beside his interpreter, and his voice purred into Pacifico 's ear. Pacifico groaned. Senor Caronan's voice purred on. Pacifico listened. The purr grew tenser. 268 THE SON OF PIO Pacifico raised his eyes to a beautiful, keen- edged war-bolo that hung on the wall. Then, and only then, the purring ceased, and Senor Caronan slipped out of the room. The fascinating war-bolo ! Pacifico crept stealthily toward the wall. Not the bows and poisoned arrows, nor the long- shafted, poison-tipped, barbed spear-heads, nor the blunderbusses of a former time mere hunt- ing weapons according to the Official List on file with the Government at Manila, held his atten- tion. His eyes fondled the bolos, the strange, strange working-bolos ! Some were single-edged and some were double, some were pointed and some were not, some were keen and sharp and bright, and some were rusty with human blood. His imagination pictured many a silent, sure death scene. But the center-piece of the fantastic de- sign on the wall, fascinated him above all. He lifted the heavy blade down from its resting place. Its metallic clink against its fellows rang sharply in the silence; and Pacifico 's sardonic laugh ended in a fierce cry; that bolo was made to bite the neck of Guillermo. In the meantime, Senor Caronan summoned El Sargento. "Take three men and six extra ponies, and ride to Badi," he commanded. "Wen, senor." "Take the short trail, and spare not your ponies, for you must reach there before Senor THE WAIL OF THE CARABAO 269 Presidente Don Miguel Lasam, and no one must see you." "Wen, senor." "Stop at the barrio of Andarrian." "Wen, senor." "Arrest the parents of Pacifico Baliuag and of Emiliana Danga, and hurry back to Mapia with them." "Wen, senor." A certain, cool, intense glitter in the little man's dark, guileless eyes warned El Sargento to re- strain his curiosity and suggested the extreme ad- visability of haste and silence particularly si- lence. El Sargento had seen that gleam in those eyes at other times on occasions. And El Sar- gento knew what he knew. El Sargento under- stood, thoroughly. He bowed to the ground, and hurried away. "Tortures for them shall not compel the lad's surrender. I shall teach them to say that they feared Senor Lasam 's vengeance, and came to Mapia for my protection," Senor Caronan chuckled to himself. Aloud, he called a policeman. "Saddle my spirited Brown Pony at once, and tie it in the shade of the mango tree across the road," he ordered; "I shall wish to ride." But shortly afterwards, Senor Caronan silently watched Pacifico mount that fleetest of the town ponies and ride away. And nobody else raised an outcry at the theft. 270 THE SON OP PIO The little animal held the fond illusion that it was running away with its rider. In reality, a savage exaltation claimed the lad. Blood, Death, Justice his Mission, the wild joy of his ancestors in raid for a mate gripped him. All douht, all de- spair gone, the prowess of his arm should win his mistress, and sustain them both in the free life of the Mountains. Bolo in hand and the reins hang- ing limply from a wrist, the heavy, thong-bound, steel whip stretched out at full arm's length, he allowed the impatient little pony to set the pace until the copper-green clay of The Bluff hid them from chance observers. The cut of the lash! A snort of fright! And they dashed along the river-bank at the foot of the bare hills, dashed under the leaning, earthen cliff that threatened to topple into the waters be- low and to choke them, dashed on and on and on. The death-dealing Cagayan, Father of Waters, swept past in a treacherous, majestic, murky calm, and wended its way northward to the sea. The sun in its downward march, flung the merciless heat of its slanting rays upon them. From the river's bank, they turned into the tunnel-like passage through the pampas-grass swamp. The harsh, saw-like leaves, towering high above them and drooping down again, fringed the Trail with a barricade of pain that slashed and ripped and tore both skin and hide. In the dank, heavy humidity of the sunless depths, the blood- tinted foam congealed on the pony's steaming, THE WAIL OF THE CAKABAO 271 straining, tired flanks. And sometimes, the hairy shoulders shivered, perhaps quivered for the salty sting of the ruddy perspiration that dripped in swiftly recurring rhythm from the rider's face. The impatient lash, adding to the pony's collection of gashes, always insisting upon another stum- bling burst of speed, nagged and nagged the lit- tle animal's struggles through the slimy, oozy, knee-deep slush. Neither the heaving sobs, almost human, nor the mute, appealing eyes, won mercy. With torturing visions of HER danger in the hands of such a captor, with visions of the things that might be, for the lad's goad; with vengeance his goal; what mattered a pony's agony on the trail! The little animal staggered out of the swamp. Only the worn surface of rocks traced the line of the Trail over the rolling, jagged hills. Climb- ing upwards, the pony slipped on the smooth stones, or gained but a dubious foothold, and the effort of a moderate pace seemed almost to tear its muscles apart. Stumbling downward again, it cautiously searched with its unshod hoofs among the boulders for a secure footing. Its spirit gone, its strength on the wane, it retained scarcely enough ambition to switch its tail at the flies gath- ered in the gashes on its flanks. The - lash fell, unheeded ! From the last rise, Pacifico caught sight of Senor Lasam, Pedro Tallud, and El Sargento of Badi, just as the cavalcade passed into the shade 272 THE SON OF PIO of a small jungle. He reined up. Hate scorched his brain. A savage lust for battle, for revenge, grew upon him, grew until a terrible, muttered oath escaped him. The pony heard. Snorting, its head held high in a proud anxiety to pass those before, respond- ing to its rider's sudden, involuntary tension, which some instinct prompted was the call for its great life effort, the little animal flew after the three, and swiftly consumed the short lead that still remained from a half -hour start. The trees, smothered in the embrace of twining vines, flashed by, and their chill enveloped pony and rider. Pacifico shivered, and bent low over the twitching, anxious ears. Just ahead, a brook, nesting ground of the croc- odiles, barricaded the trail. El Sargento stood at the forward end of the bamboo floating-bridge. His legs apart and feet braced against the sup- ports of the side-railing, bamboo stringer from the opposite bank in hand, he prepared to pull the trio across. A proud tyrant among his menials, Senor Lasam sat his pony, ponderously. Tallud fawned at the rear, and soothed the nervous, ex- cited ponies. Shouting a fierce, vengeful, exultant challenge, Pacifico dashed down the steep embankment. His cry startled the pursued and their mounts into a confused, struggling commotion. The bolo, leaden in the gloom, and the fiendish hatred in the boy's THE WAIL OF THE CAEABAO 273 face, warned them of doom. But he was upon them before they could resist him. The pony leaped to the bridge, and the jar top- pled the ill balanced Sargento among the baby crocodiles. Terror squeezed the man's eyeballs from their sockets. Pacifico laughed. The speed of his approach lending force to his arm, a sing- ing swish, the crunch of metal upon vibrating flesh and bone and Tallud's head rolled beneath a pony's hoofs. "That you may forget your many perjuries," Pacifico shouted. He pressed between the frantic, riderless ponies, which plunged and reared at the lurching of the bridge, and laid his strong, young hands upon Senor Lasam. The feel of the weak, greasy, de- generate body, quivering as at touch of hell-fire, the cackling gurgle of the words which fear strangled at birth, gave him a new strength. He toppled Senor Lasam to the little crocodiles in the brook. "That you may meditate yet a while on your sins," he cursed. Unconscious of the gurgled screams and implor- ings of El Sargento and master, blind to tEeir frantic, fright-paralyzed struggles against the wa- ter and the worrying attack of the baby crocodiles, the once despised Pacifico drew the bridge to the other bank, and continued his avenging flight on Senor Lasam 's less spent mount. 274 THE SON OF PIO With its head hanging low, Senor Caronan's "Spirited Brown Pony" staggered laboriously along the backward trail toward home. Half way across the rolling hills, the little animal made way for the headlong rush of another diminutive horse, a gray pony that carried a gigantic rider. The "Fleetest Pony of the Town" neighed a feeble greeting to its comrade in Senor Caronan's pack, and the plaintive hail checked the reckless haste of the "Stalwart Gray." The strange rider stared. To Senor American Provincial Treasurer, the gashes on the spent pony's flanks signaled the tale of a terrible ride. The white man swore. "I'd like to forget what a square little runt old Caronan is, and beat him up," he growled. "Wasting a whole hour before telling me about the kid's scrape! Hell!" Because none but pony ears could understand the explanation in the eloquence of the dumb brute's neigh, because there was nothing else to do, the American decided on further haste, and strain, and hope. "If I can head the kid off, and get the girl away from Guillermo, damn him, there is still a chance to, save the lad from outlawry," he as- sured himself. "But it is up to you, little Gray," he soothed, "you pony 'strong enough to race to Badi with the weight of an American on your back'!" THE WAIL OF THE CARABAO 275 And so Senor American Provincial Treasurer spurred onward, and muttered curses, and ached, and fortified himself, against doubt and anxiety, until he came to the scene of the lad's compre- hensive retribution. The purring brook's word- less story pointed out the utter futility of con- tinuing the wild effort to overtake Pacifico, and suggested the tingling pleasure to be found in shooting baby crocodiles. But Senor American Treasurer never forgot the appearance of the three corpses. Far ahead, Pacifico flashed past the straggling clumps of bamboo and past occasional mango trees and banana palms scattered upon the flat, scorched plain, lashed the pony through the lone thicket of guava brush, urged his lagging mount be- tween the long line of lofty, bare poles that raised the leafy heads of cocoanut and buja palms above the last stretch of the Trail. The short twilight hour, promise of a fit veil for a bolo's deeds, brought the lad a strange, peace- ful satisfaction, although the pony now merely plodded along without the speed that may soothe a vengeance-laden mind. At the bank, Pacifico drove the animal into the Cagayan, and clambered aboard the dug-out canoe. The chill of the water quenched the fire in the gashes on the pony's flanks, and brought a painless stupor; only Pacifico 's supporting hand at the bridle kept the inert, dragging, living mass from sinking passively to its death. The boat crawled 276 THE SON OF PIO across the sleepy surface of the river. A black bulwark on the horizon, like a guard of the silent night, loomed the farther bank. In its shadow, Pacifico paid the fare of two copper dackers. The boy's exultation, the bloody bolo, awed the boatman into a blindness which recognized neither pony nor rider. But later in the night, with lo- quacious particularity and great timidity, with many a "Santa Maria" and Guardian Sign of the Cross, the Filipino described his weird passen- ger, El Diablo, horned and monstrous and stingy. But the American Treasurer scarcely listened to the vivid tale of "The Devil." That none might discover him, or shout a warn- ing of his presence, Pacifico rode back into the country and approached the town from the hills. No recollection, no memory, no feeling could pene- trate through the shroud of his grim mission, and the familiar scene struck no chord of emotion within him. He halted behind Guillermo 's house. In one of the rooms, Emiliana tussled with Senor Lasam's nephew, and sought to hide from the man, by the intensity of her defiance, the grad- ual ebbing of her strength. And then, bringing memories of Pacifico, the sad, plaintive wail of a carabao floated down from the hills. Emiliana faced her tormentor with a fury that Guillermo had never found in the women of his race. Confident, exultant, nearer, the wail swelled through the quiet. Emiliana listened. Fierce, savage, the wail pierced the night. With one great effort, Emiliana flung herself and Guillermo before the barred window. In a moment, the swaying, straining 'bodies stumbled back out of the hazy light that bored through the darkness of the night. The struggle called Pacifico, called him irresist- ibly. Wild, mocking, demoniac, tender, the wail of the carabao rose once more. Then Pacifico climbed through the window next to that from which the light flickered. His bolo slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. But Guillermo 's passion had thrown a stupor over his ears; he heard nothing, neither the creeping, creaky approach of Death, nor the click of bolo on floor-slats. And the Woman, suddenly grown coy, half yielding, half defiant, held Guillermo 's eyes upon her own beautiful face, with his back to- ward the danger, until her lover 's bolo, clasped in both hands, dropped far behind his shoulders. Then she gathered Guillermo 's fingers in one hand, passed the other down over his fevered brow to his eyes ; and he sighed his content at his mastery of her. With all her strength, she pressed his head back until his neck cracked. Unerring, gaining terrible speed from its far, low resting place, the bolo swung in fury. Perhaps two hours later, the American Treas- urer and the Senor Padre of Dacal broke down the door of the room. 278 THE SON OF PIO Senor Padre did not understand at first. He stared at the head so carelessly kicked into a cor- ner, until the passion petrified on the face gave him the clue to the incentive for the murder. "The cause was sufficient," he judged. "It doesn't matter; it was the Will of God," he ex- plained to the white Official in excusing the un- known perpetrator. Then he crossed himself. The American turned away from the body. "Poor kid," he muttered. He shook his head. "Anyhow, I'm glad I'm not the Chief of Constabu- lary," he told the wind; "I won't have to hunt the lad." Americans of North Province tell of the con- sideration shown them by a certain young Clerk of Mapia who speaks English. Some Americans have never seen the young man. The Chief of Constabulary and the American Provincial Treas- urer have not. But the Chief of Constabulary will entertain you for hours with tales about the outlaw, El Diablo, except when he is smarting under a fresh reprimand from his Chief in Manila for his failure to capture that robber after some characteristic raid. "It is strange," he will tell you, "but El Dia- blo never robs a town that is markedly friendly to the Americans. But God pity the native Offi- cials that oppress the people. Why sometimes he even risks a raid just to beat up a prominent prin- THE WAIL OF THE CARABAO 279 dpale for having flogged some poor old common ignorante. The bad ones among the native presi- dentes are afraid of him, while the Filipino Offi- cials loyal to us Americans rather defend him, even call him "The Brown El Dangeroso." Their attitude is what makes it so damned hard to catch him; I can't get any information out of anybody. Pump the ignorantes? Gad! El Diablo is their god! Who is he? I don't know. Wish I did." Sometimes he whispers a suspicion that Senor Caronan of Mapia is actively in league with El Diablo, and sends an expedition into the hills be- hind that town. But it discovers nothing. A 000114115 9