he had been
taken alive, instead of having been killed in the fight in which he
was captured, the man firmly believed to be due to the fact that he
was wearing the shirt at the time. A native servant in the employ of
one of the officers of the company had explained later that such an
"anting-anting" as this was highly prized, and that it increased in
value with its age. Only certain "wise men" had the right to add a
new island to the number of those painted on the garment, and before
this could be done the wearer of the shirt must have performed some
great deed of valour in that particular island. The magic garment was
worn only in time of war, or when danger was known to threaten, and
was bequeathed from father to son, or, sometimes, changed ownership
in a less peaceful way.

"What was the experience which you have referred to?" I finally asked
the man who had spoken, when he did not seem inclined to go on of
his own accord.

The man hesitated a moment before he replied to my question, and
something in his manner then, or perhaps when he did speak, made me
feel as if he was sorry that he had spoken at all.

"It is a story I do not like to tell," he said, and then added hastily
a little later, as if in explanation, "I mean I do not like to tell
it because I cannot help feeling, when I do tell it, that people do
not believe me to be telling the truth.

"Some years ago," he continued, "I went down to the island of Mindoro
to hunt 'timarau,' one of the few large wild animals of the islands--a
queer beast, half way between a wild hog and a buffalo.

"I hired as a guide and tracker, a wiry old Mangyan native who seemed
to have an instinct for finding a 'timarau' trail and following it
where my less skillful eyes could see nothing but undisturbed forest,
and who also seemed to have absolutely no fear, a thing which was even
more remarkable than his skill, since the natives as a general thing
are notably timid about getting in the way of an angry 'timarau.' As
a matter of fact I did not blame them so very much for this, after I
had had one experience myself in trying to dodge the wild charge of one
of these animals infuriated by a bullet which I had sent into his body.

"Perico, though,--that was the old man's name,--never seemed to have
the least fear.

"I was surprised, then, one morning when the weather and forest
were both in prime condition for a Hunt, to have my guide flatly
refuse to leave our camp. Nothing whi