But--what would you do if you were
in my place--we have no legal proof."

"I would take a platoon of our best men, sir, and visit his
hacienda--and then there would be no Malabanan, sir--unless dead men
live!"

"But the courts, Sergeant: we could not convict him on the evidence we
have. And what you suggest would be mere murder."

"Courts, sir? Malabanan will never face a court--I know that, sir. I
FEEL that, sir!"

Terry studied the hard face of the little fighting man: "Sergeant,
you don't seem to fear man or devil."

Mercado's white teeth flashed as he shrugged pleased denial of claim
to such courage, then his roving gaze focussed upon a distant object
and the confident expression altered swiftly to uneasiness, awe,
superstitious terror. Terry, startled at the transformation, followed
the direction of his dread stare and saw that his eyes were fixed upon
the distant, mist-wreathed crest of Apo. He understood. Even this
sturdy little soldier cowered before the obscure menace of the hidden
Hill People. Terry resented, vaguely, that others did not respond to
the spell of the Hills as he did.

The five minutes had freshened the wonderful little steeds, so they
mounted and pushed on through the heat with eyes half shut against the
glare of sand and water. At four o'clock they pulled up in front of
Terry's quarters.

A note from the secreto lay on his table. He opened it and read that
Malabanan had not returned, that the place was deserted. He had
anticipated this, knowing that the band would now operate from some
secret rendezvous in the maze of the forests. His problem now was to
locate their meeting place: his patrols must search them out.
Information would be passed quickly to them by the inhabitants of the
gulf--every planter, laborer, trader and native now knew that the
ladrones were rampant: and now the Bogobos would be most valuable to
him, as in their wanderings they covered every inch of the woods to
the edge of the Hill Country, and news of strangers would be brought
to him by swift Bogobo runners.

A quick shower to rid himself of the intolerable stickiness of the
long hot ride, a change to fresh shirt and breeches, and he hastened
to the _cuartel_. Two patrols had come in during the afternoon,
reporting no intelligence of the bandits but bearing tidings of an
aroused American and frightened native population. The launch returned
an hour later after a fruitless search of the west coast for signs of