c.

Before leaving, a mock marriage was performed for our benefit by the
one-eyed Pandita. As is the custom at such times, all the Moro women,
including the bride, who is never present at her own wedding, were
hidden behind an extemporized curtain. On the ground before this
curtain sat the Pandita and the prospective bridegroom, the bare
soles of their feet touching and their hands closely clasped beneath
an enshrouding cloth. The Pandita then chanted or intoned a service,
the bridegroom occasionally joining in, and not infrequently some
outsider introduced a facetious expression or joke, which was greeted
with uproarious delight by the others, the Moro sense of humour being
apparently well developed.

Of course, the mock marriage ended here, but we were told that at this
point of the service in a real wedding the groom would go behind the
curtain and seize his bride, who was supposed to struggle violently to
escape. She would then be carried to the groom's house, and for three
days the feasting and merry making would continue--for everyone but the
happy pair, as according to custom, the bride must quarrel violently
during this time with the groom, and not allow him to come near her,
though when he finally leaves her alone, she must bitterly weep and
lament. At the expiration of the three days, this charming state of
affairs is discontinued, and they are considered legally married,
and thereafter may be as happy as they are capable of being.

On leaving the interpreter's house to walk back to the ship's boat,
we were lighted by a misty moon which gave the effect of twilight,
and in our half lethargic state could hardly be sure that what we had
seen that evening was not, after all, a dream or a strange hypnotic
memory--the dancing Maharajah, the Pandita performing the marriage
ceremony, the terrible sword-dance, and the little snake-charmer
fascinating her own plump hands! Was it possible such things had
occurred in the twentieth century and on American soil?

Chapter X

TAMPAKAN AND THE HOME STRETCH

Our last day in Bongao the Governor secured a little pearling launch,
the _Hilda_, and took several of the _Burnside_ people on a jaunt
to the island of Siminor, as it is written on the map, or Siminol,
as it is called by the natives. Siminol is about ten miles south of
Bongao, and our destination was the town of Tampakan. It was a misty,
moisty afternoon, with a sharp salt smell to the air, and through the