The Adventures of Piang the Moro Jungle Boy Part 13

The little charm boy's heart beat violently, but his face never changed expression. Juramentado! So some poor misguided fanatic had been persuaded to a.s.sa.s.sinate the governor. He and Kali must prevent the outrage, for had they not sworn allegiance to this new chief? Piang feared that Sicto suspected the words had been overheard, so he carefully avoided Kali and strolled on among the people. A glance at his chief had warned Kali that trouble was in the air.

Sicto, Alverez, and Vincente moved off toward the dock.

"Sicto, did Piang hear what I said?" asked Alverez.

"Does the jungle hear the trumpeting of the elephant?" angrily retorted Sicto.

"He hasn't spoken to any one yet," said Vincente, significantly. "We had better get rid of him before--"

A whispered conversation followed, and Alverez finally exclaimed:

"I'll do it! Wait here. Watch Piang." Then he hurried off.

Without approaching Kali, or divulging the secret to any one, Piang followed the men to the dock, and Sicto laughed softly as he watched the unsuspecting boy walk into the trap. The little gunboat _Sabah_ was bobbing at her moorings, and Piang joined the crowd that was gazing in wonder at the strange craft. A shrill whistle, signifying the _Sabah's_ intention of immediate departure, so terrified the Moros that some took to their heels while others sought the safety of tall lamp-posts. Piang was laughing merrily when he was startled by a noise, and turning, he saw Alverez and a soldier running toward him.

Instantly everything was confusion, and Piang realized that he was the center of the excitement.

"Are you Piang?" asked the soldier, cautiously approaching him.

"Sure, me Piang."

"Hike! Beat it!" said the man, pointing to the _Sabah_.

What did he mean? Was Piang to be allowed to go aboard the boat?

The soldier made it very plain, finally, that such was the case, but Piang insisted that he could not depart on a pleasure ride without getting his chief's permission.

"_Sigi_, beat it, I tell you, _p.r.o.nto_!" said the soldier impatiently, emphasizing the command with a push. Almost before Piang realized it, he found himself on the gunboat, which was slowly moving out toward the channel. In his hand was a crumpled piece of paper which the soldier had gingerly thrust into it.

"Here's your pa.s.sport, kid," he had said with a grin. Piang carefully unrolled the paper and stared at the queer American characters. A sailor offered to translate it for him, but when he glanced over the paper, he uttered a low whistle.

"Say, you go away back and sit down! Don't you come near me or any one else, sabe?"

Piang recoiled before the look of disgust on the sailor's face. What was the matter with every one? Why were they all afraid to come near him, and where were they taking him? He summoned up enough courage to ask who had written the letter, and when he was told that it was signed by Governor Findy, he felt rea.s.sured. Surely if the good governor was sending him somewhere, it would be all right. Disconsolately, Piang crouched in a corner, watching sharks and dolphins sporting in the foaming wake. He wondered how long the boat was going to be out, if it would return in time for him to save the governor. When he started toward a group of men to ask for information he was met with a shout.

"Get out of here, you!" they yelled, and poor Piang hurriedly retreated to the stern. Much talk of the coming baile seemed to indicate that the sailors expected to return before evening, so Piang patiently squatted on a coil of rope, wondering when the mysteries of his errand would be revealed to him.

The ocean is dotted with many lovely islands off Zamboanga. Somber, lowering Basilan guards its secrets to this day; Sacol, home of Dato Mandi, invites and then repels the intruder; tiny clumps of vivid green rise out of the channel in the most unexpected places, as if timidly wis.h.i.+ng to investigate before adding their emerald mite to crown the Celebes. The island toward which the _Sabah_ was making her way seemed blacker and denser than its more frivolous neighbors. Two staccato whistles warned the islanders of the _Sabah's_ approach, and the beach was soon the scene of lively commotion. The engines stopped, and the gunboat slid along easily. A boat was lowered. The sailors were speaking in low voices; one looked toward Piang and shook his head sadly.

"My task is not to be an easy one," thought the charm boy, but his head went up proudly. These sailor men should see how a brave Moro executed the commands of his superiors.

"Come on, kid," called a jacky, and just as Piang stepped over the side a kindly sailor slipped a quarter in his hand. It was evidently a gift, and the boy grinned appreciatively.

"Wastin' your coin, man," remarked another sailor with a harsh laugh. "He's not likely to need _dinero_ (a silver coin) soon." Piang wondered again at the pitying looks that were cast at him, but he only held his head higher and climbed into the boat. The men seemed in a great hurry; they landed far up the beach, and bags and provisions were hastily dumped on the sand.

"Here you are, young 'un," said a sailor, and Piang looked up eagerly.

"Me, here?"

"Yep, this is your place," replied the man, looking away quickly from the soft brown eyes.

Obediently the jungle boy jumped out, awaiting instructions. The sailor in charge pointed to the paper in Piang's hand and waved toward the barrio.

"For dato?" Piang asked, with a puzzled look.

"Sure, the dato," replied the man evasively, and Piang turned and started off through the jungle, following a well defined path.

"Plucky kid, that," said the sailor who pushed off. "Wonder if he knows what's up? Half the time they don't tell the poor devils. Row over toward the patrol-boat, and I'll warn them to watch carefully to-night in case he tries to escape. When they first land here they kick up a terrible row and usually try to make a get-away or commit their particular brand of hari-kari [suicide]."

Piang was in a great hurry. There was no time to be lost and whatever the business in hand might be, it must be finished quickly. He wondered why some of the sailors had not come with him. Americans are always so curious and never lose an opportunity to visit a strange barrio. He ran on swiftly.

Two sounds broke simultaneously on his ears. What was there in them to strike a chill to his heart, to fill him with forebodings? That shrill whistle! It was surely the _Sabah's_, and as Piang came to a small clearing, he caught a glimpse of the harbor. A cry broke from him. The _Sabah_ was sailing away. Before he could fully realize the calamity, that other sound, ominous and terrible, came again from the barrio. A low rumbling, punctuated with shrieks and screams, came nearer, nearer. Suddenly from out the dense undergrowth protruded a face, shoulders, and finally a woman, old and bent, crept through. Spell-bound, Piang watched her. Wisps of unkempt gray hair straggled around her head; filthy rags hung from her lean, stooping shoulders; sunken eyes, sly and vicious, glared at Piang. Tremblingly the boy watched her creep toward him. There was something about the old hag that turned his blood cold. The distant rumble became individual howls, and Piang suddenly realized that he was being hunted. But why, and by whom? The innocent paper in his hand crackled. The old hag was very near, was about to touch him. With a shriek, Piang jumped back. Her hands were festered; her face and neck were covered with white splotches.

"A leper!" cried the boy and suddenly he realized that he had been trapped by that villain, Sicto. Not Sicto, but Alverez had filched the order for the confinement of a leper, had erased the name, and subst.i.tuted Piang's. He flung the d.a.m.ning paper from him.

As the boy darted off through the jungle, the old woman yelled. The cry brought the others, and when Piang caught sight of them, he almost lost hope. Would he be able to escape the contamination of this island? With mad shrieks, the lepers gave chase, eager to lay hands on one so lately relegated to their colony. Was he not a leper too? What right had he to scorn them, his brothers? Hotter, fiercer grew the chase. The island was so small that it afforded little refuge for the hunted boy. Sounds from all sides indicated that the chase was almost over; it was only a matter of minutes now, and never again could he leave the dread colony.

A rustle at his feet startled him, and some animal scurried off into the bush. A dark hole from which it had evidently crawled attracted Piang's attention, and without an instant's hesitation, he flung himself on the ground and wormed his body into the welcoming shelter. Pulling a fallen branch in front of the opening, he shrank farther back into the cave. Cave? No, he had taken refuge in a fallen tree trunk, hollowed out by the persistent ferreting of termites (ants).

"He was here, here," screamed the old woman. The pursuers flocked to the spot, and Piang listened as they beat the bush, clamoring for their victim. They were so infuriated at the new arrival's unsociability that they would probably kill him if they found him.

Piang crouched back in his cramped quarters. The tiny white ants announced their disapproval of the intrusion by vicious stings, but Piang did not move. A sudden jolt made his heart beat wildly. Some one had jumped on the other end of the log, and the rotting wood had caved in. He expected each moment to be his last. Over his head the pattering of bare feet, running along the trunk, sounded like thunder.

When the lepers moved off into the jungle, Piang was not deceived. They would lie in wait, and their revenge would be the more terrible for the delay. Sweat poured down Piang's face; his body ached where the ants had stung him. He tried to plan some means of escape, but none came to his tired brain.

"There is no G.o.d but Allah," whispered the charm boy, and a peace seemed to fall upon him.

Many weary hours went by before a squawk penetrated the death-like stillness. Fruit-bats! It must be night. Very slowly he made his way toward the opening. Unfortunately for Piang the full moon was rising, making the soft, tropical night a wonder of beauty and loveliness. Cautiously he thrust his head through the branches that s.h.i.+elded his retreat. He was very near the ocean; the other end of the fallen tree, in which he had found refuge, was lying in the water, and the rising tide was gradually creeping up over it. The gentle swish of the sea comforted Piang. It was his friend, the only friend that could help him escape from this island of decay. His practised eyes discerned the shadowy forms of watchers squatting along the beach; beyond, the patrol-boat moved about restlessly, and in the distance twinkled the lights of Zamboanga.

"If I could only get past the lepers and the boat, I could swim back,"

thought Piang, and he looked with longing at the oily smoothness of the water. Nothing could slip past the boat on that sea of gla.s.s in the bright moonlight. He remembered the schools of sharks he had seen in the _Sabah's_ wake and shuddered; but even that was better than being doomed to die here. He pillowed his head on his arms and leaned against the trunk; his hand closed over a piece of dry bamboo. Lifting it to his eye, he idly squinted through it; it was smooth and clean.

Piang fell to soliloquizing. How many times, surrounded by his friends, he had swum in the moonlight. He remembered one night in particular. How they had sported with bamboo sticks, blowing the spray high in the air, laughing as it fell upon each other! Piang could swim miles with arms folded, pus.h.i.+ng through the water like a fish, rolling over on his back or sides, when tired. He had fooled the tribe by staying under water for three minutes, breathing easily through his hollow, bamboo tube. Kali had given him a prize.

Piang's eyes widened, brightened. With the bamboo stick--could he? He blew through it softly and laughed. But how to get into the water without being detected? The approaching tide, lapping the other end of the fallen log, seemed to be caressing it in pity. Piang examined it closely. Dared he crawl along the trunk? His eyes fell upon the hole just above the water where one of his pursuers had broken through.

"Allah, I thank Thee," breathed the excited boy. He had found his chance, had discovered a possible means of escape.

Crawling back into the log, he tested the heart of the tree and to his joy, it crumbled under his touch. With a smothered cry, he began to cut his way through the pithy, dust-like wood, and as he gradually worked quant.i.ties of the soft fiber loose, he tossed it behind him. If he could work his way through the rotted trunk before the tide turned, it would be an easy matter to slip through the hole into the water.

It was suffocating in the damp inclosure, as the discarded pith began to fill the opening. Tiny apertures let in just enough air, but Piang was panting and dripping with sweat. As he struggled on toward the hole, he could feel the water under him, as it swayed the log gently. Only a little further!

The moonlight bathed Piang in its soft light; a cool breeze blew across his face. One of the watching lepers stood up suddenly.

"There are many crocodiles to-night," he finally said, pointing toward the log where a slight ripple, widening into vanis.h.i.+ng rings, closed over a dark form.

"That's a queer kind of fis.h.!.+"