r one so small. Only
once she seemed to lose control; her vinta cut deep into the tall
rushes near the bend of the creek. Had the Dyaks been less intent on
exhibiting their scorn, they might have noticed that when the boat
drew back from the rushes it rode deeper in the water, and the little
figure labored harder at the paddle as the vinta turned the bend and
passed from sight.

"Piang! is it you?"

As Papita spoke, the form lying in the bottom of the vinta slowly
unfolded like a huge jack-knife. The merry eyes twinkled, the youthful,
firm mouth curved at the corners, and Piang, the adventurer, smiled
up at the astonished girl.

"But yes, Chiquita, did you think that Piang would suffer the outcast
Sicto to kidnap his little playmate?" Piang took up the paddle and
the vinta shot forward. Silently the two bent to the task, every
moment increasing the distance between them and their enemies.

"Will they catch us, Piang?"

"Of course not, my Papita. Piang, the charm boy comes to rescue
you." The proud head went up with arrogant superiority.

"But there are many hidden cut-offs and creeks between us and the
river, Piang; Sicto will surely trap us." The terrified expression
in the girl's soft eyes touched Piang's heart.

"Have no fear, Papita. Let Sicto overtake us and he will be sorry. Put
your ear to the baskets."

As the girl bent over the two baskets, lying in the bottom of the
vinta, a frown puckered her brow. A dull hum, like a caged wind
protesting in faint whispers, rose from them. Gradually a smile broke
over her face, and she laughed softly.

"Yes; Sicto will be sorry if he overtakes us," she whispered.

Through the deepening night, a roar came to the fugitives. A deep,
cruel howl; tom-toms beat a ragged and violent alarm; savage war-cries
rent the air, bounding back from one echo to another. Papita's hand
wavered at her paddle. Piang's stroke grew swifter, surer. The outraged
bridegroom had returned from his meditations to find himself brideless.

"How will they come, Piang?" Papita's voice trembled.

"Some by water, some by land. Work, Papita."

And so the deadly tropic night closed about them. The little
nut-shell sped down the river, past snags, skulking crocodiles,
and many unseen dangers. The jungle came far out over the water,
dangling her treacherous plant-life above them, ready to drag them
from the vinta: it crept beneath them, shooting up in massive trees
that obstructed their passage--tr