rce Sigbin came rushing down the
mountain. It appeared to be greatly frightened, for it took tremendous
leaps and screamed as if in terror. Over the heads of the people
it jumped, and, reaching the shore, cleared the narrow channel and
disappeared among the mountains of the island of Cebu.

When the people saw that the Sigbin had gone they ran up the mountain
and searched everywhere for Catalina, but they could find no trace of
her. Sorrowfully they returned to their homes and busied themselves
in building new houses and in making their town beautiful once more.

Several years passed in peace and then again the Moro boats came up
from Mindanao. The men hurriedly gathered on the beach to meet them,
and the women and children hid in the cocoanut groves.

This time the Moros had no quick and easy victory, for the Visayans,
armed with bolos and remembering their lost wives and sisters, fought
furiously, and for a time drove the enemy before them. But more Moro
boats arrived and numbers told against the defenders. Slowly but
surely they fell fighting until but a few remained.

Suddenly a bridge of clouds unfolded from Dalugdug to the town, and
across it came the lost Catalina holding a beehive in her hands. Then
she spoke and thousands of bees flew from the hive to the ground. Again
she spoke and waved her hand, and the bees changed into little black
men with long sharp spears, who charged the Moros and killed every
one of them.

Then Catalina, the hive still in her hand, went back over the bridge
and disappeared once more in the mountain.

The people came out of their hiding places, crowding around the little
black men and questioning them, but they received no answer. Instead
the little warriors gathered together and ran into the forest and up
the mountain side, where they were soon lost to view.

Such is the story of Catalina, Since that time Dumaguete has been safe
from the Moros. The Sigbin has never returned to Negros. It still
lives in the mountains of Cebu and the people are so afraid of it
that they lock themselves in their houses after dark and can hardly
be induced to come out. Up in the mountains of Negros live the little
black men. They are called Negritos and are very savage and wild.

The savior of Dumaguete still lives in Dalugdug and is worshiped by the
people. And in the town, now grown into a big busy city, the old people
for years to come will tell their grandchildren the story of Catalina.