ool and water his
pony, he caught the sparkle of the sunny Gulf, his nostrils sensed its
tang, and with the surge of thanksgiving for the wonderful good
fortune that had attended him, he first realized the strain of the
past weeks.

Great as was his hurry to reach Davao--an hour's tardiness might mean
the loss of the weekly steamer--he spent a half-hour with Lindsey, who
had ridden out to the trail in the hope of intercepting him. From
Lindsey he learned more of the suspense that had hung over the Gulf
since his disappearance, the deep anxiety that had spread among the
Bogobos and silenced every agong in the foothills.

"And Terry--the night the Giant Agong rang up there--we most went
crazy!"

"We wondered if you heard it, Lindsey."

"Heard it! Heard it? It reached clear over on the East Coast. Boynton
heard it over there."

Terry pressed on. Three miles below he found Casey was out to meet
him, and further on, Burns. At four o'clock he dismounted to greet
some Bogobos whom he overtook on the trail. Pushing Sears' little
brown hard, he rode into Davao at five o'clock.

The plaza was crowded. Warned of his coming by the agong chorus, the
whole town had turned out, Americans, Filipinos, Chinese, several
Spaniards and Moros. The sleepy, dusty square waked to their noisy
welcome.

"_El Solitario!! El Conquistador del Malabanan!_"

Laughing, misty eyed with the warmth of their greeting, he stood in
the center of the jostling crowd, shaking hands, calling each white,
native and Mongolian by name. Then the Macabebes claimed him and swept
him into the privacy of the cuartel.

The jealous Matak had waited till Terry entered the house that his
welcome might be unshared.

"Master, I know you come back. All time I know," he assured him
gravely, then looked him over and sent out for the barber. Solemn and
efficient as ever, he hustled his master under the shower, helped him
into the first starched clothes he had known in five weeks, then went
into the kitchen to frighten the cook into greater haste in
preparation of dinner.

Barber shears, soap and clean linens restored Terry to his usual
nattiness, and he delighted the cook with the zest with which he
approached a good dinner after the weeks of the crude and
undiversified fare of the Hillmen. Halfway through dinner he beckoned
to Matak who stood with folded arms near the kitchen door as matter of
fact as though the routine of the household had never been disturbed.