uld Piang, the invincible, be killed? Papita crouched in the
doorway. Kali Pandapatan bent over the still little form. Anxiously
he watched the eyelids quiver, the lips part. A sigh of relief broke
from the chief, and he murmured softly:

"Little brother, you have the strength of a packda; the cunning of
the civet-cat, and the wisdom of the mina-bird. May your days be long."

A knowing smile flitted across Kali's face as he caught the irrelevant
reply:

"Papita--is she safe?"

SEVENTH ADVENTURE

THE SECRET OF THE SOURCE

There had been a great drought. Plague was sure to follow such
weather, and the Moros were already dying of starvation. "Rice,
rice!" was the cry, but everywhere the crop had failed, and the
natives were desperate.

Piang had been more successful in foraging than the other lads had,
and his mother was safe for a time, but there seemed to be no hope,
and he sorrowed as he pictured her dying for want of the food that
it was his business to provide for her.

In the stifling heat of midday, the village was startled by the
appearance of several white men on the biggest animals they had ever
seen. Tiny ponies, straying about the village, fled to cover at sight
of the strange creatures, and most of the women hid themselves in
fright. The Moro men sullenly watched the strangers advance, making
no attempt to stop them, but there was no mistaking their hostile
attitude.

"Where is the dato?" asked the interpreter, who rode in ahead of the
men. There was no answer.

"Come, where is the chief? The white men bring good news; they
bring food."

Instantly there was a change. Kali Pandapatan stepped in front of
the others and said in his musical patois:

"I am Dato Kali Pandapatan. Speak. Do not deceive us."

A lengthy conversation followed, and while the two men were arguing
and gesticulating, the strangers gradually coaxed some of the children
toward them. Finally the women sidled nearer, and soon the entire
population had hedged the little company in, and were gazing with
awe at the huge American horses with their odd trappings. One mare
stamped her foot and neighed loudly, scattering the spectators in
every direction, greatly to the amusement of the white men.

It was all very hard for the dato to understand. He explained to his
people that some great power had sent the white men to save them from
starvation. The interpreter had told him that the Moros all belonged
now to some nation cal