when the terrible Dato Ynoch's offer came--"

"Who speaks the name of our enemy in my house?" thundered Kali,
glowering at the chattering women. "Bend to your tasks and have done
with idle gossip."

What difference did it make to Piang if he was alone, if he had only
the barest clue to Papita's whereabouts? He was going to follow up
that clue, and something seemed to tell him that he was on the right
track. The jungle was dripping and steaming after a three days'
downpour; monkeys and birds were huddled in the trees, melancholy,
but patient, knowing that their friend, the burning tropic sun, would
come to them again, some day. Piang trudged on through the sticky,
slippery jungle. An occasional fresh track or recent camping site
made him push forward eagerly. What he should do when he did overtake
the kidnappers, he had no idea, but something always happened to help
Piang. He reverently touched his sacred charm.

The deluge through this lower jungle must have been terrific. Piang was
glad that he had been in his mountain barrio during the tempest. Strewn
everywhere were branches and enormous tree-ferns; a dead hablar-bird
lay in his path. Leeches, hiding on the backs of leaves and twigs,
caught at Piang as he brushed by, clinging and sucking their fill,
before he could discover them. He raised one foot quickly and yelled:

"_Tinick!_" ("Thorn!") While he was searching for the thorn his
other foot began to ache and pain. Piang was too wise to hesitate
a moment, so he swung up to a low branch and sat there nursing his
feet. He was puzzled; there was no thorns in them, and he could find
no cuts. Gradually the soles of the feet began to swell and take on a
purplish hue. Piang gave a low whistle and bent to examine the ground.

"_Badjanji!_" ("Bees!") he exclaimed. The ground was yellow with
the little bedraggled, stupified creatures. They had been beaten
down by the storm and would remain there until the sun came to coax
them into industry again. Swinging lightly from one tree to another,
Piang reached one of the numberless brooks that ramble aimlessly
about through the jungle, and, dropping to its banks, buried his
feet in the healing clay. After a short time the pain grew better,
and he continued his journey.

He was nearing Dato Ynoch's domain on the banks of Lake
Liguasan. The outlaw had chosen his lair well, for it was one of
the most inaccessible spots in Mindanao. On all sides treacherous
marsh lands reache