de. Who knows? Only Ganassi, the wonder man,
and he will tell no one." The keen old eyes twinkled as they watched
Piang's face.

The mystery! It was again established, and Piang was happy. Maybe
the precious stones were inside and some day would be revealed to
him! As if reading his thoughts, Ganassi said:

"The charm must remain intact to wield its spell; if the gourd should
ever be broken or stolen, both you and the charm lose the mystic power
lately bestowed upon it. Piang, the source of power is faith! Believe,
be honest, be true, and the world holds naught but joy for you and
Kala Pandapatan's people."

A silence fell upon them all. The solemn words had sobered Piang,
and he gazed into the eyes of the wise man.

"Begone, boy. The sun rises, and you have many miles to go. To-night
I will light the signal fires and tell your tribe that you have come
and gone, that Piang is charm boy of Kali Pandapatan's people forever."

FOURTH ADVENTURE

THE FIRE TREE

The velvety dusk of the jungle was pierced here and there by the
brilliant, crimson buds of the fire-tree. For weeks all Moroland had
waited for their coming, the heralds of the combat season. During
the harvest time there is a truce in these turbulent islands, but
when the crops have been gathered, the natives become restless and
long to sally forth to conquer. The myth that victory comes only
to the tribe whose fire-tree has bloomed is implicitly believed,
and impatiently the Moros await this announcement of the combat
season. Paying no heed to their capital city, Manila, these merry
little isles revel in intrigue, and there is no sport in Moroland that
can compare with the combat. Tribes go forth to conquer and enslave
others; the men look forward to it as an opportunity to prove their
prowess; the women thrill at the possibility of capture. True, they
may become the slaves of some unscrupulous dato, but there is always
the romantic chance that they may fall into the hands of the hero of
their dreams and become the favorite of his seraglio.

"Where is Piang?" Dato Kali Pandapatan addressed a copper-colored
slave who salaamed and replied:

"In the jungle, O most high one, searching for the blooming fire
branch."

"It is well." Kali Pandapatan, with folded arms, paused in the
doorway of his hut, watching expectantly the only opening into the
frowning jungle.

"He comes! He comes!" rippled through the barrio.

The eager inhabitants gathered to