they were with the cumbersome siwaka. Reach that bend
first, they must.

"The charm, Piang," whispered Kali. Springing to his feet, the boy
uttered a fierce "Oola." Every head bowed, and the sacred talisman
was exposed.

"Forward, brothers!" he cried. "Forward with all your strength!"

The sun came out, and the dripping jungle began to steam. Palm leaves
were constructed into hats to guard against sunstroke. Toward sunset
they drew near the danger point. What was that monotonous sound dully
vibrating through the jungle? Anxiously all eyes turned toward Piang.

"It is well, brothers," bravely comforted the boy. "Yes, that is the
tom-tom of your enemy. Sicto has betrayed us, but have no fear. Piang,
the charm boy leads you; take courage, and Allah, the Merciful, will
give you victory." Piang commenced a murmur of prayer, and the Moros,
joining in, filled the fast-settling night with whispered invocations
which drifted off through the jungle.

Another council of war was held.

"Piang, if they have had time to lay the boom, what shall we do?"

"Go forward, Kali. Fight your way through the blockade," answered the
charm boy. "I will remain here with a few men to guard to siwaka. Do
you hide at the first bend until the moon gives you light, then
strike!"

The astonished warriors looked with misgiving from one to the other,
but Kali answered firmly:

"It shall be so, Piang."

The Moros were quickly assembled for the advance, and Kali paused by
the side of Piang's raft:

"If we are driven back, Piang, I will give three calls of the
mina-bird. Answer likewise and retreat as quickly as possible."

"Forward, Kali Pandapatan," answered Piang with great dignity. "We
will not retreat."

Like ghosts in the night the little handful of men parted from their
fellows and courageously faced the river and its dangers. The stream,
swerving to the left, flows on to the apex of the Big Bend. As
if regretting its departure from the true course, it doubles back
and returns to take up its original direction at a point separated
from its first departure by only a few rods. Between the two points
is a waste of murky soil and sand, covered by dense growths of the
jungle's choicest variety of obstacles. Gloomily Piang contemplated
the morass that lay between him and freedom. Long he sat, looking into
the distance where he could almost see the river as it completed the
curve and swept on to the ocean. What would he not give to be safel