Terry Part 30

"h.e.l.lo, sir."

The Major answered in a voice that sounded harsh in his own ears and watched her disappear around the corner. Then he spoke to Terry without facing him.

"She does speak Englis.h.!.+"

"Not much, yet. She really meant 'good-by.'"

They started toward the village slowly, each wrapped in his own meditations. Pa.s.sing round the eastern side of the cone, Terry halted to gaze searchingly at the Great Agong hung over the stone platform far overhead. Anxiety was evident in his manner as he hastened to catch up with the Major, who had walked on.

The throng had gathered earlier than usual, the clearing was packed more densely than upon any previous afternoon. The two Americans avoided the clearing, pa.s.sing to their shack directly through the woods.

The Major dropped down on his bench and pillowed his head on what remained of his pack, staring up at the gra.s.s roofing. Shortly the serving woman appeared with their suppers, but neither moved, so she placed the two bowls on the floor mat near where Terry sat and withdrew noiselessly.

As the sun sank below the trees, the Major stirred out of his melancholy and twisting over on the hard cot sought the reason for Terry's long silence. Terry sat, as always, at the top of the crude steps, gazing over the trees. The Major was shocked at the utter dejection of the slumped figure, the pain that showed in the set muscles of the thin face.

The Major sat up. "What is the matter, Terry? You aren't sick?"

"No, Major. I'm all right." His tone was weary.

"What is the matter! Is this suspense--"

Terry shook his head. "No, Major. It's something else--something home.

I expected--I hoped for some news before I came up--news I did not receive."

A flash of memory, and the Major asked: "A cable?"

At the bare nod of head he jumped upright and reaching into his hip pocket brought out his purse to extract the cablegram he had brought up but forgotten. Crossing the little room, he dropped it on Terry's knees.

Terry ripped open the envelope, hesitated, then unfolded the message.

And as the Major looked on, every vestige of care and patient suffering left the white face, the wistful line was ironed from the corner of his mouth and Terry stood up a joyous, vibrant youth.

He had read:

Lieut. Richard Terry, P.C.

Davao, Mindanao, P. I.

At last the perfect Christmas gift. Am sailing immediately to claim it. Arriving Zamboanga January twenty-sixth with Susan and Ellis.

DEANE.

He carefully refolded the sheet and placed it in his s.h.i.+rt pocket, then turned to the Major, his eyes darkened with such a joy as the Major had never seen.

"This message will cost you a wedding present, Major!"

"What now?" asked the Major. Things were moving too fast since he reached the Hills.

"It is from ... a girl. I left home--oh, foolishly. But she is on her way over here, with my sister and brother-in-law. That's where the present comes in!"

"But--but--what about Ahma?"

"Ahma?" Terry asked, in his turn astounded. In Terry's bewilderment the Major understood that his own unhappiness had been unfounded. At his shout of delight the Hillmen all turned toward the white men's hut, wondering at the joyous antics of the strange pair.

In a few minutes the Major had calmed sufficiently to discuss their affairs.

"But, Major," Terry asked him, "why did you think that we--Ahma and I--that we--you know?"

"Why, everything. I saw you leave her early this morning over there in the woods. Then, this afternoon--the way you sat together, and--and everything!"

"Last night--why, she helped me fix up that 'sign' I told you about: and to-day we were talking about you--she has asked me a million questions about you--and about white girls. She has a jealous streak in her--as you will learn!"

More explanations, and Terry suddenly reverted to their plight.

"Now everything depends upon that sign I fabricated. If it fails--or if an unfavorable natural sign comes first.... You know I must be in Zamboanga on the twenty-sixth, some way."

He lapsed into reverie. The Major fidgeted, reached for his hat and stepped to the door, a bit shamefaced.

"Terry," he said, awkwardly, "if you don't mind I think I'll run over toward Ahma's house. There is a lot to talk over with her now and I guess I--"

His words were drowned in a resounding crash that blotted out all other sounds. The village shook with the jarring impact of some vast missile striking near, the air filled with the roar of shattering rock and heavy rumble of sliding earth.

The Hillmen bounded upright at the first terrific crash and stood transfixed, witless, superst.i.tious fear written upon every brown face.

A dead silence followed the dying out of the last thunderous echoes, then a child whimpered, another, and the women took up the whining note. A warrior, one of the sub-chiefs from a neighboring village, raised a braceleted arm in astounded gesture toward the crag.

"The SIGN! The SIGN!" he shouted.

The thousand heads raised as one, and taking up the cry, surged toward the great cone, sifting through the timber like brown seeds through a screen.

CHAPTER XVI

CIVILIZATION DAWNS IN THE HILLS

When the tumult had subsided, the amazed Major wheeled to face Terry's quizzical grin.

"Well, Major," he said, "there is their merry little 'sign'! The darn thing worked!"

The Major pulled him toward the door. "Come on," he exclaimed. "Let's see what happened."

He hurried down the short ladder ahead of Terry and raced through the strip of woods to where the mob was packed about the base of the cone.

The Major smashed an unceremonious pathway through the brown jam and in a moment they stood at the foot of the crest.

A large segment of the huge pillar of rock had broken off and in falling had carried thousands of tons of shale and eroded stone. The immense rock, whose fracture and fall had precipitated the slide, lay directly under the Tribal Agong, at which the Hillmen were staring up, dumfounded.