half-concealed the curves of their figures. Most of them danced with
their heads turned away, but whenever the evolutions of their measured
step brought them face to face with us, they would hold up the _sarong_
so that it concealed all but the eyes, evidently a survival of the
_yashmak_, for Moro women do not hide their faces at all times from
the gaze of men, as do the women of India.

When the men danced it was far less graceful, and at times bordered
on the grotesque. They contorted and twisted themselves out of all
semblance to the human body; they made their abdominal muscles rise
and fall with the music; they seemed at times to put the body out of
joint, and then reset it properly with jerks and jumps and sudden
fierce movements; they twitched, and twisted, and twirled, hardly
moving their feet from the floor.

Then came sword-dances with naked blades, when some young Moro
advanced and retreated, leaped high in the air, or crouched on the
ground, waving his _barong_ or _kris_ aloft, now retreating, now
coming uncomfortably close to the little party of unarmed Americans,
the flickering light gleaming redly on the glittering knife, and
reminding one, with a horrid insistence, that the time and place were
ideal for a wholesale slaughter.

As the necessities of the dance took the last of these lithe youths
farther away, I must confess to a feeling of relief, which mounted to
a nervous joy when, after apparently slaying his enemy and grinding him
under heel, the dancing combatant gave place to a chubby youngster who
stamped, and twirled, and gestured himself into our very hearts. This
baby, for he could not have been over four years old, was also a prime
favourite with the Moros, who yelled out their delight at his prowess,
and even clapped their hands and jumped about in their enthusiasm. But
the baby was stoically calm, and moved not a muscle of his little
round face in response to their greetings.

Then came the old Maharajah, who had set his price on the American
women. Wrinkled, white-haired, and toothless, he danced amidst
great applause; and after him a tiny girl posed most picturesquely,
throwing out her plump, dimpled wrists, on which twinkled innumerable
bangles. Waving each wrist in turn, the little maid would fasten upon
it a serious gaze, as if she were a snake-charmer and each arm was
a serpent, her hand representing the head, which waved ever back and
forth restlessly and in time to the strange musi