Chapter XII.

Leaves from a Note-book.

I.

Skim Organizes the Constabulary.

The soldiers had gone, bag and baggage, dog, parrot, and monkey,
blanket-roll and cook. I stood by the deserted convent under
the lime-tree, watching the little transport disappear beyond
the promontory. The house that formerly had been headquarters
seemed abandoned. There was the list of calls still pasted on the
door. Reveille, guard-mount, mess-call, taps,--the village would
seem strange without these bugle-notes. The sturdy sentry who had
paced his beat was gone. When would I ever see again my old friend
the ex-circus clown, and hear him tinkle the "potato-bug" and sing
"Ma Filipino Babe?" Walking along the lonely shore, now lashed by
breakers, I looked out on the blue wilderness beyond. It was with
feelings such as Robinson Crusoe must have had that I went back then
to the empty house.

Ramon, convinced that something would break loose, now that the troops
were gone, had left for Cagayan. His wife, Maria, slept at night
with a big bolo underneath her pillow. There was a "bad" town only a
few miles away--a village settled by Tagalog convicts, who had been
conspicuous in the revolt a few years previous. The people feared
these neighbors, the assassins, and they double-barred their doors
at night. I was awakened as the clock struck twelve by unfamiliar
noises,--nothing but the lizard croaking in the bonga-tree. Again,
at one, I started up. It was the rats, and from the rattling sound
above I judged that the house-snake was pursuing them. At early
morning came the chorus of the chanticleers. Through the transparent
Japanese blinds I could see the huge green mountains shouldering the
overhanging clouds. Ah! the mysterious, silent mountains, with their
wonderful, deep shadows! The work of man seemed insignificant beside
them, and Balingasag the lonesomest place in all the world.

One morning the sharp whistle of the launch aroused the
town. Proceeding to the shore, I saw a boat put out from the
_Victoria_, sculled by a native deck-hand. As the sun had not
yet risen, all the sea was gray, and sea and sky blended into one
vast planetary sphere. Two natives carrying the ample form of the
constabulary captain staggered through the surf. Behind them came the
captain's life-long partner and lieutenant, a slight man, with cold,
steely eyes, dressed in gray crash uniform, with riding leggings. They
had been through one campaign