nly one he has helped out; am I, boys?"

A dozen planters supported him, enthusiastic, vehement.

Cochran knew the Major intimately, his hobbies and aversions. He
turned to him solemnly.

"Married yet, Major?"

"Who--me? I guess not! No petticoats for mine!"

In the laugh which rose over Cochran's elicitation of the bachelor's
invariable formula, several of the planters moved their chairs near
the Major's table. All of these quiet, efficient Constabulary were
well liked, and the Major had been known to many of these Davao
pioneers since the days when they had fought together against
insurrectos, cholera, torturing sun, treachery; the days when capture
had meant the agony of dissection piecemeal, hamstringing, the ant
hill.

The Major's face had relapsed into gravity: "Lieutenant Terry is well
liked, then?" he suggested.

Lindsey replied, earnestly: "Major, he owns this whole Gulf. He hasn't
an enemy--not counting that gang of Malabanan's up the coast."

Burns, a gruff old planter, interposed: "He had one enemy, once."

Cochran understood that the uncommunicative Burns would go no further
and thought the Major should be enlightened.

"As I was the only witness," he began, "I guess I must tell the story.
One of our planters, Sears, took a dislike to Terry on the way down
from Zamboanga: no reason for it--he was grouchy and sore, had been
drinking too hard trying to forget his troubles.

"You know Sears, Major. His inability to get labor was ruining him and
he went too far in 'persuading' the Bogobos to work for him. Well, he
went after Terry on the boat, and it wound up with Sears threatening
to do Terry up if he came near his plantation: and Terry quietly
assured him that he would go there first of all.

"We were all worried about it for a week, as Sears is a bad man when
aroused and never goes back on his word, and we knew Terry would
go--he was all business, though quiet and white. Well, when Sears got
back to his place all of his Bogobos had left him, the fields were
deserted. It meant the loss of his crop, complete ruin, so he got to
drinking harder and finally, desperate, brought in some Bogobos at the
point of a pistol and put them to work.

"It was pretty raw, of course. Everybody knew of it that night. The
next morning I rode over to offer him some of my men and as I came in
sight of the house I saw Terry, riding his gray pony, enter Sears'
clearing from the east trail.

"I was pretty scared. I