The boarding-house, kept by a crusty but good-hearted Englishman, stood opposite the row of porches roofed with heavy tiles, that made _Calle Colon_ a colonnade. Across the street was a window in the wall, where the brown-eyed Lucretia used to sell ginger-ale and sarsaparilla to the soldiers. With her waving pompadour, her olive cheeks, and sultry eyes, Lucretia was the belle of all the town. There wasn't a soldier in the whole command who wouldn't have laid down his life for her. And in this land where nothing seemed to be worth while, Lucretia, with her pretty manners and her gentle ways, had a good influence upon the tawny musketeers who dropped in to play a game of dominos or drink a gla.s.s of soda with her; and she treated all of them alike.

A monkey chattered on the balcony, sliding up and down the bamboo-pole, or reaching for pieces of bananas which the boarders pa.s.sed him from the dinner-table. "Have you chowed yet?" asked a grating voice, which, on a negative reply, ordered a place to be made ready for me at the table. Barefooted _muchachos_ placed the thumb-marked dishes on the dirty table-cloth. I might add that a napkin had been spread to cover the spot where the tomato catsup had been spilled, and that the chicken-soup, in which a slice of bread was soaked, slopped over the untidy thumb that carried it. But I omitted this course, as the red ants floating on the surface of the broth rendered the dish a questionable delicacy. The boarders had adjourned to the parlor, and were busy reading "Diamond d.i.c.k," "Nick Carter," and the other five and ten cent favorites. A heavy rain had set in, as I drew my chair up to the light and tried to lose myself in the adventures of the boy detective.

But the mosquitoes of Cebu! The rainy season had produced them by the wholesale, and full-blooded ones at that. These were the strange bed-fellows that made misery that night, as they discovered openings in the mosquito-bar that, I believe, they actually made themselves! The parlor (where the bed was situated) was a very interesting room. There was a rickety walnut cabinet containing an a.s.sortment of cobwebby Venus's fingers, which remind you of the mantel that you fit over the gas jet; seash.e.l.ls that had been washed up, appropriately branded "Souvenir of Cebu;" tortoise-sh.e.l.l curios from Nagasaki, and an alb.u.m of pictures from j.a.pan. The floor was polished every morning by the house-boys, and the furniture arranged in the most formal manner, _vis-a-vis_.

The _senorita_ Rosario, the sister-in-law of the proprietor, came in to entertain me presently, dressed in a bodice of blue _pina_, with the wide sleeves newly starched and ironed, and with her hair unbound. She sat down opposite me in a rocking-chair, shook off her slippers on the floor, and curling her toes around the rung, rocked violently back and forth. She punctuated her remarks by frequent clucks, which, I suppose, were meant to be coquettish. Her music-teacher was expected presently; so while I wrote a letter on her _escritorio_, the _senorita_ smoked a cigarette upon the balcony. The _maestro_ came at last; a little, pock-marked fellow, dapper, and neatly dressed, his fingers stained with nicotine from cigarettes. Together they took places at the small piano, and I could see by their exchange of glances that the music-lesson was an incidental feature of the game. They sang together from a Spanish opera the song of Pepin, the great braggadocio, of whom 't is said, when he goes walking in the streets, "the girls a.s.semble just to see him pa.s.s."

"Cuando me lanzo a calle Con el futsaque y el cla, Todas las ninas se asoman Solo por ver me pasar: Unas a otras se dicen Que chico mas resa lao!

De la sal que va tirando Voy a coher un punao."

When the music-teacher had departed, the _senorita_ leaned out of the balcony, watching the crowd of beggars in the street below. Of all the beggars of the Orient, those of Cebu are the most clinging and persistent and repulsive. Covered with filthy rags and scabs, with emaciated bodies and pinched faces, they are allowed to come into the city every week and beg for alms. Their whining, "_Da mi dinero, senor, mucho pobre me_" ("Give me some money, sir, for I am very poor"), sounds like a last wail from the lower world.

It was at Iloilo that we took a local excursion steamer across to the _pueblo_ of Salai, in Negros. It was a holiday excursion, and the boat was packed with natives out for fun. There was a peddler with a stock of lemon soda-water, sarsaparilla, sticks of boiled rice, cakes, and cigarettes. A game of _monte_ was immediately started on the deck, the Filipinos squatting anxiously around the dealer, wagering their _suca ducos_ (pennies) or their silver pieces on the turn of certain cards. It was a perfectly good-natured game, rendered absurd by the concentric circles of bare feet surrounding it. There seemed to be a personality about those feet; there were the sleek extremities of some more prosperous councilman or _insurrecto_ general; there were the h.o.r.n.y feet of the old women, slim and bony, or a pair of great toes quizzically turned in; and there were flat feet, speckled, brown, or yellow, like a starfish cast up on the sand. They seemed to watch the game with interest, and to note every move the dealer made, smiling or frowning as they won or lost. There was a tramway at Salay, drawn by a bull, and driven by a fellow whose chief object seemed to be to linger with the _senorita_ at the terminus. The town was hotter than the desert of Sahara, and as sandy; there was little prospect o relief save in the distant mountains rising to the clouds in the blue distance.

Returning to our caravansary at Iloilo, we discovered that our beds had been a.s.signed to others; there was nothing left to do but take possession of the first unoccupied beds that we saw. One of our party evidently got into the "Spaniard's" bed, the customary resting-place of the proprietor, for presently we were awakened by the anxious cries of the _muchachos, "Senor, senor, el Espanol viene_!" (Sir, the Spaniard comes!) But he was not to be put out by any Spaniard, and expressed his sentiments by rolling over and emitting a loud snore. The Spaniard, easily excited, on his entrance flew into an awful rage, while the usurper calmly snored, and the _muchachos_ peeked in through the door at peril of their lives.

Nothing especially of interest is to be found at Iloilo,--only a long avenue containing Spanish, native, and Chinese stores; a tiny _plaza_, where the city band played and the people promenaded hand in hand; a harbor flecked with white, triangular sails of native _velas_; and the river, where the coasting boats and tugs are lying at the docks. Neat cattle take the place of carabaos here to a great extent. There is the usual stone fort that seems to belong to some scene of a comic opera. America was represented here by a Young Men's Christian a.s.sociation, a clubhouse, and a _presidente_. The troops then stationed in the town added a certain tone of liveliness.

It was a week of carol-singing in the streets, of comedies performed by strolling bands of children, ma.s.ses, and concerts in the _plaza_. On Christmas afternoon we went out to the track to see the bicycle races, which at that time were a fad among the Filipinos. The little band played in the grand-stand, and the people cheered the racers as they came laboriously around the turn. The meet was engineered by some American, but, from a standpoint of close finishes, left much to be desired. The market-place on Christmas eve was lighted by a thousand lanterns, and the little people wandered among the booths, smoking their cigarettes and eating peanuts. Until early morning the incessant shuffling in the streets kept up, for every one had gone to midnight ma.s.s. Throughout the town the strumming of guitars, the voices of children, and the blare of the bra.s.s band was heard, and the next morning Jack-pudding danced on the corner to the infinite amus.e.m.e.nt of the crowd. As for our own celebration, that was held in the back room of a local restaurant, the Christmas dinner consisting of canned turkey and canned cranberry-sauce, canned vegetables, and ice-cream made of condensed milk.

Chapter V.

On Summer Seas.

The foolish little steamer _Romulus_ never exactly knew when she was going, whither away, or where. The cargo being under hatches, all regardless of the advertised time of departure, whether the pa.s.sengers were notified or not, she would stand clumsily down stream and out to sea. The captain, looking like a pirate in his Tam o'Shanter cap, or the pink little mate with the suggestion of a mustache on his upper lip, if they had been informed about sailing hour, were never willing to divulge the secret. If you tried to argue the matter with them or impress them with a sense of their responsibility; if you attempted to explain the obvious advantages of starting within, say, twenty-four hours of the stated time, they would turn wearily away, irreprehensible, with a protesting gesture.

Not even excepting the Inland Sea, that dreamy waterway among the grottoes, pines, and _torii_ of picturesque j.a.pan, there is no sea so beautiful as that around the Southern Philippines. The stately mountains, that go sweeping by in changing shades of green or blue, appeal directly to the imagination. Unpopulated islands--islands of which some curious myths are told of wild white races far in the interior; of spirits haunting mountain-side and vale; volcanoes, in a lowering cloud of sulphurous smoke; narrows, and wave-lashed promontories, where the ships can not cross in the night; great mounds of foliage that tower in silence hardly a stone's throw from the ship, like some wild feature of a dream,--such are the characteristics of the archipelago.

The grandeur of the scenery, the tempered winds, the sense of being alone in an untraveled wilderness, made up in part for the discomforts of the _Romulus_. The tropical sunsets, staining the sky until the whole west was a riot of color, fiery red and gold; the false dawn, and the sunrise breaking the ramparts of dissolving cloud; the moonlight on the waters, where the weird beams make a shimmering path that leads away across the planet waste to _terra incognita_, or to some dank sea-cave where the sirens sing,--this is a day and a night upon the summer seas.

At night, as the black prow goes pushing through the phosph.o.r.escent waters, porpoises of solid silver, puffing desperately, tumble about the bows, or dive down underneath the rushing hull. The surging waves are billows of white fire. In the electric moonlight the blue mountains, more mysterious than ever, stand out in bold relief. What restless tribes of savages are wandering now through the trackless forests, sleeping in lofty trees, or in some scanty shelter amid the tangled underbrush! The light that flickers in the distant gorge, perchance illumines some religious orgy--some impa.s.sioned dance of primitive and pagan men. What spirits are abroad to-night, invoked at savage altars by the incantations of the savage priests--spirits of trees and rivers emanating from the hidden shrines of an almighty one! Or it may be that the light comes from an isolated leper settlement, where the unhappy mortals spend in loneliness their dreary lives.

On the first trip of the _Romulus_ I was a.s.signed to a small, mildewed, stuffy cabin, where the unsubstantial, watery roaches played at hide-and-seek around the wash-stand and the floor. It was a splendid night to sleep on deck; and so, protected from the stiff breeze by the flapping canvas, on an army cot which the _muchacho_ had stretched out, I went to sleep, my thoughts instinctively running into verse:

"The wind was just as steady, and the vessel tumbled more, But the waves were not as boist'rous as they were the day before."

It was the rhythm of the sea, the good ship rising on the waves, the cats'-paws flying into gusts of spray before the driving wind.

I was awakened at four bells by the disturbance of the sailors swabbing down the deck--an exhibition performance, as the general condition of the ship led me to think. Breakfast was served down in the forward cabin, where, with deep-sea appet.i.tes, we eagerly attacked a tiny cup of chocolate, very sweet and thick, a gla.s.s of coffee thinned with condensed milk, crackers, and ladyfingers. That was all. Some of our fellow-pa.s.sengers had been there early, as the dirty table-cloth and dishes testified. A Filipino woman at the further end was engaged in dressing a baby, while the provincial treasurer, in his pink pajamas, tried to shave before the dingy looking-gla.s.s. An Indian merchant, a Visayan belle with dirty finger-nails and ankles, and a Filipino justice of the peace still occupied the table. Reaching a vacant place over the piles of rolled-up sleeping mats and camphorwood boxes--the inevitable baggage of the Filipino--I swept off the crumbs upon the floor, and, after much persuasion, finally secured a gla.s.s of lukewarm coffee and some broken cakes. The heavy-eyed _muchacho_, who, with such reluctance waited on the table, had the grimiest feet that I had ever seen.

A second meal was served at ten o'clock, for which the tables were spread on deck. The plates were stacked up like Chinese paG.o.das, and counting them, you could determine accurately the number of courses on the bill of fare. There were about a dozen courses of fresh meat and chicken--or the same thing cooked in different styles. Garlic and peppers were used liberally in the cooking. Heaps of boiled rice, olives, and sausage that defied the teeth, wrapped up in tinfoil, "took the taste out of your mouth." Bananas, mangoes, cheese, and guava-jelly const.i.tuted the dessert. After the last plate had been removed, the grizzled captain at the head of the table lighted a coa.r.s.e cigarette, which, in accordance with the Spanish custom, he then pa.s.sed to the mate, so that the mate could light his cigarette. This is a more polite way than to make an offer of a match. Coffee and cognac was brought on after a considerable interval. Although this process was repeated course for course at eight o'clock, during the interim you found it was best to bribe the steward and eat an extra meal of crackers.

Our next voyage in the _Romulus_ was unpropitious from the start. We were detained five days in quarantine in Manila Bay. There was no breeze, and the hot sun beat down upon the boat all day. To add to our discomforts, there was nothing much to eat. The stock of lady-fingers soon became exhausted, and the stock of crackers, too, showed signs of running out. As an experiment I ordered eggs for breakfast once--but only once. The cook had evidently tried to serve them in disguise, believing that a large amount of cold grease would in some way modify their taste. He did not seem to have the least respect for old age. It was the time of cholera; the boat might have become a pesthouse any moment. But the steward a.s.sured us that the drinking water had been neither boiled nor filtered. There was no ice, and no more bottled soda, the remaining bottles being spoken for by the ship's officers. At the breakfast-table two calves and a pig, that had been taken on for fresh meat, insisted upon eating from the plates. The sleepy-eyed _muchacho_ was by this time grimier than ever. Even the pa.s.sengers did not have any opportunity to take a bath. One glance at the ship's bathtub was sufficient.

It was a happy moment when we finally set out for the long rambling voyage to the southern isles. The captain went barefooted as he paced the bridge. A stop at one place in the Camarines gave us a chance to go ash.o.r.e and buy some bread and canned fruit from the military commissary. How the captain and the mate scowled as we supplemented our elaborate meals with these purchases! One of the pa.s.sengers, a miner, finally exasperated at the cabin-boy, made an attack upon the luckless fellow, when the steward, who had been wanting an excuse to exploit his authority, came up the hatchway bristling. In his Spanish jargon he explained that he considered it as his prerogative to punish and abuse the luckless boy, which he did very capably at times; that he would tolerate no interference from the pa.s.sengers. But the big miner only looked him over like a c.o.c.k-of-the-walk regarding a game bantam. Being a Californian, the miner told the steward in English (which that officer unfortunately did not understand) that if the service did not presently improve, the steward and cabin-boy together would go overboard.

Stopping at Dumaguete, Oriental Negros, where we landed several teachers, with their trunks and furniture, upon the hot sands, most of us went ash.o.r.e in surf-boats, paddled by the kind of men that figure prominently in the school geographies. It was a chapter from "Swiss Family Robinson,"--the white surf lashing the long yellow beach; the rakish palm-trees bristling in the wind; a Stygian volcano rising above a slope of tropic foliage; the natives gathering around, all open-mouthed with curiosity. At Camaguin, where the boat stopped at the sultry little city of Mambajo, an accident befell our miner. When we found him, he was sleeping peacefully under a _nipa_ shade, guarded by a munic.i.p.al policeman, with the ring of Filipinos cl.u.s.tering around. He had been drinking native "_bino_" (wine), and it had been too much even for him, a discharged soldier and a Californian.

It was almost a pleasant change, the transfer to the tiny launch _Victoria_, that smelled of engine oil and Filipinos, and was commanded by my old friend Dumalagon. The _Victoria_ at that time had a most unpleasant habit of lying to all night, and sailing with the early dawn. When I had found an area of deck unoccupied by feet or Filipino babies, Chinamen or ants, I spread an army blanket out and went to sleep in spite of the incessant drizzle which the rotten canopy seemed not to interrupt. I was awakened in the small hours by the rattle of the winch. These little boats make more ado in getting under way than any ocean steamer I have ever known. Becoming conscious of a cloud of opium-smoke escaping from the c.o.c.kpit, which was occupied by several Chinamen, I shifted to windward, stepping over the sprawling forms of sleepers till I found another place, the only objection to which was the proximity of numerous brown feet and the hot engine-room. The squalling of an infant ushered in the rosy-fingered dawn.

Most of the transportation of the southern islands is accomplished by such boats as the _Victoria_. I can remember well the nights spent on the launch _Da-ling-ding_, an impossible, absurd craft, that rolled from side to side in the most gentle sea. She would start out courageously to cross the bay along the strip of Moro coast in Northern Mindanao; but the throbbing of her engines growing weaker and weaker, she would presently turn back faint-hearted, unable to make headway, at the mercy of a sudden storm, and with the possibility of being swept up on a hostile sh.o.r.e among bloodthirsty and unreasonable Moros. Another time, and we were caught in a typhoon off the north coast. We thought, of course, our little ship was stanch, until we asked the captain his opinion. "If the engines hold out," he replied, "we may come through all right. The engineer says that the old machine will probably blow up now any time, and that the Filipinos have quit working and begun their prayers." Generally a Filipino is the first to give up in a crisis; but I have seen some that managed their canoes in a rough sea with as much skill and coolness as an expert yachtsman could have shown. I have to thank Madrono for the way in which he handled the small boat that put out in a sea like gla.s.s and ran into a squall fifteen miles out. All through the morning we had poled along over the crust of coral bottom, where, in the transparent water, indigo fishes swam, where purple starfish sprawled among the coral--coral of many colors and in many forms. But as the wind came up and lashed the choppy sea to whitecaps, as the huge waves swept along and seemed about to knock the little _banca_ "off her feet," Madrono, standing on the bamboo outrigger--a framework lashed together with the native cane, the breaking of which would have immediately upset the boat--kept her bow pointed for the sh.o.r.e, although a counter storm threatened to blow us out to the deep sea.

So, after knocking around in _bancas_, picnicking with natives on the chicken-bone and boiled rice; after a wild cruise in the _Thomas_, where the captain and the crew, as drunk as lords, let the old rotten vessel drift, while threatening with a gun the man that dared to meddle with the steering gear; after a dreary six months in a provincial town,--it seemed like coming into a new world to step aboard the clean white transport, with electric-lights and an upholstered smoking-room.

A tourist party, mostly army officers, their wives and daughters, "doing" the archipelago, made up the pa.s.senger list of the transport. The officers, now they had settled satisfactorily the question of superiority and "rank," made an agreeable company. There was the Miss Bo Peep, in pink and white, who wore a dozen different military pins, and would not look at any one unless he happened to be "in the service." Like many of the army girls, she had no use for the civilians or volunteers. Her mamma told with pride how, at their last "at home," n.o.body under the rank of a major had been present. One of the young lieutenants down at Zamboanga, when he found she had not worn his pin, "retired to cry." But then, of course, Bo Peep was not responsible for young lieutenants' hearts. If he had been a captain--well, that is another thing. There was the English sugar-planter from the Tawi-Tawi group, who never lost sight of the ranking officer, who dressed in flannels, changed his clothes three times a day, and who expressed his only ideas to me by virtue of a confidential wink.

For three whole days we were a part of the fresh winds, the tossing waves, the moon and stars. And as the ship plowed through the sea at night, the phosph.o.r.escent surge retreated like a line of silver fire.

Chapter VI.

Among the Pagan Tribes.

With Padre Cipriano I had started out on horseback from the little trading station on Davao Bay. We were to strike along the east coast, in the territory of the fierce Mandayas, and to penetrate some distance into the interior in order to convert the pagans with the long eyelashes who inhabited this unknown region. It was a clear day when we set out on our missionary enterprise, and we could see the black peak of Mount Apo, which, according to the legends of the wild Bagobos, is the throne of the great King of Devils, and the gate to h.e.l.l.

We struck a faint trail leading to the foot-hills where the barren ridges overlooked the sparkling sea--a vast cerulian expanse without a single fleck of a white sail. The trail led through the great fields of buffalo-gra.s.s, out of which gigantic solitary trees shot up a hundred feet into the air. There were no signs of life, only the vultures in the topmost branches of the trees. Wild horses, taking flight at our approach, stampeded for the forest. Nothing could be seen in the tall gra.s.s. Even in our saddles it was higher than our heads. The trail became more rugged as we entered the big belt of forest on the foot-hills. A wild hog bolted for the jungle with distressed grunts. It was a world of white vines falling from the lofty branches of the trees. The animal life in some of the great trees was wonderful. The branches were divided into zones, wherein each cla.s.s of bird or reptile had its habitat. Around the base were galleries of white ants. Flying lizards from the gnarled trunk skated through the air. Green reptiles crawled along the horizontal branches. Parrakeets, a colony of saucy green and red b.a.l.l.s, screamed and protested from the lower zones. An agile monkey swung from one of the long sweeping vines, and scolded at us from another tree. Bats, owls, and crows inhabited the upper regions, while the buzzards perched like evil omens in the topmost boughs.

Just when our throats were parched from lack of water, we discovered a small mountain torrent gushing over the rocks and bowlders of the rugged slope. Leaning across one of the large bowlders, from a dark pool where the sunlight never penetrated, we scooped up refreshing hatfuls of the ice-cold water. Here was the world as G.o.d first found it, when he said that it was good. It was impressive and mysterious. It seemed to wrap us in a mystic spell. What wonder that the pagan tribes that roamed through the interior had peopled it with G.o.ds and spirits of the chase, and that the trees and rivers seemed to them the spirits of the good or evil deities? The note of the wood-pigeon sounded on the right. The padre smiled as he looked up. "That is a favorable omen,"

he declared. "In the religion of the river-dwellers, the Bagobos, when the wood-dove calls, it is the voice of G.o.d. Hark! It is coming from the right. It is a favorable sign, and we can go upon our journey undisturbed. But had we heard it on the left, it would have been to us a warning to turn back. Our journey then would have been unpropitious, and we would have been afraid to go on farther."

"Does it not seem like a grand cathedral," said the padre, "this vast forest? In the days when Northern Europe was a wilderness and savage people hunted in the forests; in the days when the undaunted Nors.e.m.e.n braved the stormy ocean in their daring craft,--here, in these woods, the petty chiefs and head men held their courts of justice after the traditions of their tribes, just as they do to-day. Here they have set their traps--the arrows loosened from a bamboo spring--and while they waited, they have left the offering of eggs and rice for the good deity. Here they have hunted their blood enemies, lying in ambush, or digging pitfalls where the sharpened stakes were planted. Tama, the G.o.d of venery, has lured the deer into their traps; Tumanghob, G.o.d of harvest, whom they have invited to their feasts, has made the corn and the _camotes_ prosper; Mansilitan, the great spirit, has descended from the mountain-tops and aided them against their enemies."

We knew that it was growing late by the deep shadows of the woods. So, taking our bearings with a pocket compa.s.s, we turned east in the direction of the coast. There was no trail to follow, and we blundered on as best we could. We had now been in the saddle for ten hours. The ponies stumbled frequently, for they were almost spent. The moon rose, and the h.o.a.ry mountain loomed up just ahead of us. "We seem to be lost," said the padre; "that is a strange peak to me." But nevertheless we kept on toward the east. Soon we had pa.s.sed beyond the forest, which appeared behind us a great dusky belt. The numerous rocks and crags made progress difficult, almost impossible.

"Look!" said the padre, "do you see that light?" We tethered the ponies at a distance, crept up stealthily behind the rocks, and reconnoitered. And what we looked on was the strangest sight that ever mortal eyes beheld. It was like living again in the Dark Ages--in the days before the sages and the sun-myth. It was like turning back the leaves of history--back to the legendary, prehistoric times.

A lofty grove encircled a chaotic ma.s.s of rock. The clearing was illuminated by the flaring torches carried by a dusky band of men. Weird shadows leaped and played in the dense foliage, where, high above the ground, rude shelters had been made in the thick branches of the trees. The form of a woman, flashing with silver trinkets when the rays of light fell on her, was descending from a tree by means of a long parasitic vine. Around the palm-leaf huts that occupied the center of the amphitheater, an altar of bamboo had been erected. We could see, in the dim light, rude images of idols standing in front of every hut and near the altar.

As our eyes became accustomed to the gloom, we could make out the forms of men and women, dressed in brilliant colors and with silver bracelets on their arms. In silence we crept closer. The crowd was visibly excited. It was evident that something of a solemn and extraordinary nature was about to be performed. There were the chief a.s.sa.s.sins, so the padre whispered to me, who were decorated savagely, according to the number of victims each had slain. The ordinary men wore open vests or jackets and loose pantaloons. The women, evidently decked out with a complement of finery in honor of the celebration, wore short ap.r.o.ns reaching to the knee. Some wore gold collars around their necks and silver-embroidered slippers on their feet. Their bare arms sparkled with the coils of silver bands and bracelets that encircled them, while silver anklets jingled with the movement of their feet. They had red ta.s.sels in their hair, and earrings made of pieces of carved bone. A number of dancing-girls, as they appeared to be, had strings of red and yellow beads or animals'

teeth fastened around their necks. Their b.r.e.a.s.t.s were covered with short bodices that fell so as to leave a portion of the waist exposed.

The chief a.s.sa.s.sins were completely clad in scarlet, indicating that the wearer had disposed of more than twenty enemies. The lesser a.s.sa.s.sins wore yellow handkerchiefs around their heads, and some were dignified with scarlet vests. A miserable naked slave was pinioned where he had been thrown upon the ground near by. Although of the inferior race of the Bilanes from Lake Buluan, his eyes flashed as he regarded the a.s.sembled people scornfully. They were to offer up a human sacrifice to Mansilitan, the all-powerful G.o.d.

The head men seemed to be engaged in a dispute. A wild hog, also lying near the altar, was the object of their serious attention. After they had chattered for a while, and having evidently decided on the pig, the drums and tambourines struck up a doleful melody, and those a.s.sembled joined in a solemn chant. The pig was carefully lifted to the altar, and the chant grew more intensified. A number of dancing-girls, describing mystic circles with their jeweled arms, were trembling violently, bending rhythmically, gracefully from side to side. The music seemed to hypnotize the people, who kept shuffling with their feet monotonously on the ground. The leader of the dance then stuck the living pig with a sharp dagger. As the red blood spurted out, she caught a mouthful of it, and applying her mouth quickly to the wound, she sucked the fluid till she reeled and fell away. Another followed her example, and another, till the pig was drained.

It was not difficult to fancy a like orgy with the quivering slave upon the altar in the place of the wild hog. The spirit of Mansilitan then came down--the spirit was, of course, invisible--and talked with the head men about their enemies, the crops, and game. The chiefs were chewing cinnamon and betel till their mouths were red. The master of ceremonies then brought out enormous quant.i.ties of _tuba_, and his guests completed the religious ceremony with a wholesale drunk.