"I suppose they must have; if not, they are unhappy indeed."

Maria Clara did not catch the note of sadness in his voice.

"Well?"

"They say, senora, that the nests of these birds are invisible, and have the power to render invisible whoever holds them; that as the soul can be seen only in the mirror of the eyes, so these nests can be seen only in the mirror of the water."

Maria Clara became pensive. But they had come to the first baklad, as the enclosures are called. The old sailor in charge attached the boats to the reeds, while his son prepared to mount with lines and nets.

"Wait a moment," cried Aunt Isabel, "the fish must come directly out of the water into the pan."

"What, good Aunt Isabel!" said Albino reproachfully, "won't you give the poor things a moment in the air?"

Andeng, Maria's foster-sister, was a famous cook. She began to prepare rice water, the tomatoes, and the camias; the young men, perhaps to win her good graces, aided her, while the other girls arranged the melons, and cut paayap into cigarette-like strips.

To while away the time Iday took up the harp, the instrument most often played in this part of the islands. She played well, and was much applauded. Maria thanked her with a kiss.

"Sing, Victoria, sing the 'Marriage Song,'" demanded the ladies. This is a beautiful Tagal elegy of married life, but sad, painting its miseries rather than its joys. The men clamored for it too, and Victoria had a lovely voice; but she was hoa.r.s.e. So Maria Clara was begged to sing.

"All my songs are sad," she said.

"Never mind," said her companions, and without more urging she took the harp and sang in a rich and vibrant voice, full of feeling.

The chant ceased, the harp became mute; yet no one applauded; they seemed listening still. The young girls felt their eyes fill with tears; Ibarra seemed disturbed; the helmsman, motionless, was gazing far away.

Suddenly there came a crash like thunder. The women cried out and stopped their ears. It was Albino, filling with all the force of his lungs the carabao's horn. There needed nothing more to bring back laughter, and dry tears.

"Do you wish to make us deaf, pagan?" cried Aunt Isabel.

"Senora," he replied, "I've heard of a poor trumpeter who, from simply playing on his instrument, became the husband of a rich and n.o.ble lady."

"So he did--the Trumpeter of Sackingen!" laughed Ibarra.

"Well," said Albino, "we shall see if I am as happy!" and he began to blow again with still more force. There was a panic: the mamas attacked him hand and foot.

"Ouch! ouch!" he cried, rubbing his hurts; "the Philippines are far from the borders of the Rhine! For the same deed one is knighted, another put in the san-benito!"

At last Andeng announced the kettle ready for the fish.

The fisherman's son now climbed the weir or "purse" of the enclosure. It was almost circular, a yard across, so arranged that a man could stand on top to draw out the fish with a little net or with a line.

All watched him, some thinking they saw already the quiver of the little fishes and the shimmer of their silver scales.

The net was drawn up; nothing in it; the line, no fish adorned it. The water fell back in a shower of drops, and laughed a silvery laugh. A cry of disappointment escaped from every mouth.

"You don't understand your business," said Albino, climbing up by the young man; and he took the net. "Look now! Ready, Andeng!"

But Albino was no better fisherman. Everybody laughed.

"Don't make a noise, you'll drive away the fish. The net must be broken." But every mesh was intact.

"Let me try," said Leon, the fiancee of Iday. "Are you sure no one has been here for five days?"

"Absolutely sure."

"Then either the lake is enchanted or I draw out something."

He cast the line, looked annoyed, dragged the hook along in the water and murmured:

"A crocodile!"

"A crocodile!"

The word pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth amid general stupefaction.

"What's to be done?"

"Capture him!"

But n.o.body offered to go down. The water was deep.

"We ought to drag him in triumph at our stern," said Sinang; "he has eaten our fish!"

"I've never seen a crocodile alive," mused Maria Clara.

The helmsman got up, took a rope, lithely climbed the little platform, and in spite of warning cries dived into the weir. The water, troubled an instant, became smooth; the abyss closed mysteriously.

"Heaven!" cried the women, "we are going to have a catastrophe!"

The water was agitated: a combat seemed to be going on below. Above, there was absolute silence. Ibarra held his blade in a convulsive grasp. Then the struggle seemed to end, and the young man's head appeared. He was saluted with joyous cries. He climbed the platform, holding in one hand an end of the rope. Then he pulled with all his strength, and the monster came in view. The rope was round its neck and the fore part of its body; it was large, and on its back could be seen green moss--to a crocodile what white hair is to man. It bellowed like an ox, beat the reeds with its tail, crouched, and opened its jaws, black and terrifying, showing its long and saw-like teeth. No one thought of aiding the helmsman. When he had drawn the reptile out of the water he put his foot on it, closed with his robust hand the redoubtable jaws, and tried to tie the muzzle. The creature made a last effort, arched its body, beat about with its powerful tail, and escaping, plunged outside the enclosure into the lake, dragging its vanquisher after it. The helmsman was a dead man. A cry of horror escaped from every mouth.

Like a flash, another body disappeared in the water. There scarce was time to see it was Ibarra's. If Maria Clara did not faint, it was that the natives of the Philippines do not yet know how.

The waters grew red. Then the young fisherman leaped in, his father followed him. But they had scarcely disappeared, when Ibarra and the helmsman came to the surface, clinging to the crocodile's body. Its white belly was lacerated, Ibarra's knife was in the gorge.

Many arms stretched out to help the two young men from the water. The mamas, hysterical, wept, laughed, and prayed. Ibarra was unharmed. The helmsman had a slight scratch on the arm.

"I owe you my life," said he to Ibarra, who was being wrapped in mantles and rugs.

"You are too intrepid," said Ibarra. "Another time do not tempt G.o.d."

"If you had not come back!" murmured Maria Clara, pale and trembling.

The ladies did not approve of going to the second baklad; to their minds the day had begun ill; there could not fail to be other misfortunes; it were better to go home.

"But what misfortune have we had?" said Ibarra. "The crocodile alone has the right to complain."

At length the mamas were persuaded, and the barks took their course toward the second baklad.