tall, amazingly fat man stepped to the platform. His
back seemed oddly familiar to Piang, as well as the slinking gait, the
shambling step. Straining his eyes, Piang waited. Dato Ynoch raised
his hand for silence and turned toward the waiting populace. Piang
nearly cried out as he caught sight of the face.

Oily of hair, oily of eye was this Dato out-law. His shifting glance
wandered restlessly over the heads of the people, meeting no man's
eye. Beneath the pomp of his trappings, the fat, overfed body protruded
grotesquely, and his movements were slow and clumsy. One almond-shaped
eye had been partly torn from its socket, leaving a hideous, red
scar. An ear, which appeared to have slipped from the side of the
oily head and lodged on a fold of the fat neck, had in reality been
neatly carved from its proper place by an enraged slave and poorly
replaced by a crude surgeon. A bamboo tube had been inserted in the
original ear-drum.

"Sicto!" gasped Piang. The mysterious Dato Ynoch, was Sicto, the
mestizo.

That Papita had been dragged to the barrio, Piang now had no doubt,
and his nimble wits began to look about for a way of escape. He was
near the banks of a creek that led to the Cotabato River and thinking
that the most likely escape, he wormed his way toward it. Along the
bank were canoes of every description. The swift ones seemed to be all
four-oared, and he knew that he must have a fleet, light vinta to elude
the Dyaks. He spied a tiny white boat tied to a gilded post, and his
heart nearly stopped beating when he read the name "Papita" on the bow.

"Papita!" Piang scornfully whispered. "Papita, indeed!" His lip curled,
and he glared through the rushes at the hideous Sicto.

"Well, it shall be Papita's after all!" Piang said and he smiled. He
crept toward the little craft to see if there were paddles in it. There
were two, and Piang suddenly remembered that part of the Dyak betrothal
ceremony takes place upon the water.

Long Piang pondered as he watched the preparations for Papita's
betrothal. He examined the _cotta_, counted the praus, and his keen
eyes followed the creek to its sharp turn. He crawled past the bend
to make sure that the stream was navigable. Satisfied that he could
escape through its waters, Piang began to cut rushes, and, squatting
in the protecting undergrowth, busily worked while he indignantly
listened to the loquacious Sicto telling his followers that Papita
was no slave, but a maiden of r