en skilfully dipping up the smaller ones
with nets. Helplessly the beautiful, rainbow-tinted creatures floated
about, their opalescent hues fading soon after the Moros took them from
the water. Monsters over a yard long fought for their freedom; giant
crabs and shrimp struggled in the nets. A _liendoeng_ (water-snake),
brilliantly striped with red and black, made the women scream with
fright. Dashing among them, laughing and yelling as merrily as the
other boys, Piang pursued the offending reptile, here, there, and
finally grabbed the wriggling creature and ran to the beach.

"Ah la la la lele!" he cried, dancing and jumping about, waving the
snake above his head.

"Oh, goody! Piang has come back to us," cried the delighted
Papita. "You will not frown and scowl again, will you, Piang?"

A shadow fell upon the manly young brow of Piang. He had transgressed;
he had forgotten his responsibility for the moment and had allowed
his glee to banish the dignity of his calling: Throwing the snake
into the basket, he quietly walked away from the merry-makers.

Crowds of friendly natives swarmed along the beach, hoping the
kill would be great enough to supply food for all. At other times
the Moros would have preserved any surplus fish, but those caught
under the influence of macasla cannot be cured or dried, as they
soon putrify. The macasla only blinds them temporarily, however,
and those fortunate enough to escape soon recover, suffering no ill
effects. Ten canoes, full of splendid fish, were the reward of the
macasla fiesta. A huge fire was built on the beach, and the small
fish, stuffed into green bamboo joints, were thrown in the ashes;
larger ones were sprinkled with _lombak_ dust (seasoning) and wrapped
in pisang leaves. Weird instruments made their appearance: drums of
bell-metal, jew's-harps of bamboo. The _gansas_, a flute that the
performer plays from one nostril, would have distracted an American's
attention from the music, holding him in suspense, anticipating the
dire consequences of a sneeze.

Gradually the monotonous music stirred the savages to action. Solemnly
they formed a circle around the fire, arms extended, lightly touching
each other's finger-tips. To and fro they swayed in time to the
crude music, and when the drums thundered out a sonorous crescendo,
they crouched to the earth, springing up in unison, uttering fearful
yells. When the individual dancing commenced, exhausted members began
to fall out,