ct, he made us a rather startling business proposition as follows:
'You gentlemen seem to shoot quite well with the rifle.' 'Yes, we
have had some experience.' 'You say that you wish to get samples of
the clothing and arms of my people for your collection?' 'Yes, we
hope to do so.' 'Papa' (the Moros' name for their governor-general)
'told you if you met armed Moros outside the town to order them to
lay down their weapons and retire?' 'Yes.' 'Papa does not understand
my people as I do. They are _all_ bad. When we meet them, do not ask
them to lay down their arms, for they will come back and get them,
and probably attack us; just shoot as many of them as you can. You
can take their weapons and clothing, while I will cut off their heads,
shave their eyebrows, show them to papa, _and claim reward for killing
Juramentados_.' Toolawee never really forgave us for refusing to
enter into partnership with him on this very liberal basis.

"Just before our final departure from Sulu, he presented himself before
me and remarked, 'Senor, I want to buy your rifle.' 'But, Toolawee,'
I replied, 'you do damage enough with the one you have; what do you
want of mine?' 'My rifle is good enough to kill _people_ with, but
I want yours for another purpose,' my good Moro made answer. Pressed
for details, he confided to me that he had heard 'papa' was soon going
back to Spain, and, after the governor left, he should be '_afuera_'
_i.e._ offshore, waiting for victims. He explained that he never
fired at the people in a canoe, but shot holes in the boat itself, so
that it would fill with water. The bamboo outriggers, with which all
Philippine boats are provided, would serve to keep it from actually
sinking, and the occupants, being up to their chins in water, could
easily be despatched with the _barong_, thus economizing ammunition;
and he added, 'My rifle makes but a small hole in one side of a canoe,
senor, while yours would make a much larger one, and the ball would
go clear through.' Toolawee was nothing if not practical."

While in Bongao, a Moro dance was given in our honour at the house
of the governor's interpreter, a German, who at the time was away on
a business trip. His wife, a plump and jolly matron of Moro descent,
did the honours, and smiled her good-natured, indiscriminating smile
on one and all, shaking each cordially by the hand and indicating
where we should sit by many motions of her fat, brown wrists and
many shrugs of her