leaving the youth and vigor of the tribe to compete
for the honors. A maiden must prevent a youth from confronting
her; the youth, while attempting to gain his position, must beware
lest the maiden present her back to him. Fast and furiously they
whirled and dodged, and a shout went up from the bystanders as each
unfortunate dancer was compelled to retire. Finally there were only
three contestants left; Papita, Piang, and Sicto. Gracefully the
little slave girl eluded the boys; slyly she circumvented their
attacks. Her little bare feet twinkled daintily about on the sand;
her brass anklets jingled merrily; and the fireflies, confined in
her hair, glowed contentedly.

Now the hands must be held behind the back at all times during
the dance, and when Sicto, exasperated at the girl's nimbleness,
attempted to grab her, Piang protested loudly. A surly growl was
Sicto's response, and during the hot dispute that followed, as
the dancers swayed and dodged, Papita caught Sicto off his guard,
and to his mortification he found himself contemplating the comely
back of the girl. Over her shoulder she taunted the astonished boy,
and thunderous applause greeted his defeat. Sicto slunk off into the
shadow, muttering maledictions against Piang, whom he blamed primarily
for his downfall. Papita, Piang, which would win? Breathlessly the
audience followed the agile movements of the two; eagerly they claimed
the honors for their favorite.

The music ceased abruptly. With fear in their hearts and bated breath,
the tribe waited again for the sound that had disturbed their revelry:

"_Le le, li li._" The tribal call rang through the forest faintly.

"_Blako ampoen_, Allah," ("I beg for mercy, Allah,") whispered Kali
Pandapatan, supplicatingly.

The call was repeated, came steadily nearer. Finally from the gloom
of the river shot a banco, a very old man working at the paddle. It
was Pandita Asin from the barrio.

"_Un-di?_" ("Whither?") called Kali Pandapatan.

"The barrio--Bal-Bal!" gasped the exhausted old man.

The night pressed upon them. Up the river darted Asin's slender banco
with Kali Pandapatan and a few picked warriors.

"Asin, we shall need you, and you, Piang," the chief had said, and
the boy jumped into the boat. Far behind they left the terrified,
confused throng, preparing to embark, and soon the night swallowed
up the little advance party, as it hurried toward the stricken barrio.

A white mist rose from the water, o