ifty men and three officers. Because
of the two hundred miles of treacherous ocean between him and higher
authority, the young captain acting as military governor was, so to
speak, a small Czar, and he ruled an unique kingdom, untouched by
civilization, and peopled entirely by ex-pirates or the descendants
of pirates.

The official letter-book of this functionary, at which he allowed
us to peep, read like a story of adventure, while some of his own
personal experiences, and those of the former commanding officer,
seem almost incredible when away from the glamour of the place. In the
post records, sandwiched between such mundane things as requisitions
for water-buckets or commissary supplies, one would read of atrocious
murders committed by the Moros; piratical expeditions headed off,
and their instigators punished; or attempted slave-raids against some
neighbouring island.

Under the date of February 21, 1900, a thrilling story was told, it
being the official and unvarnished account of a disastrous hunting trip
taken by five of the post soldiers, the dispassionate routine language
but giving it verisimilitude; while the subsequent happenings serve
to show what kind of government seems most to appeal to these people.

The story, as nearly as I can remember it, reads that five of the
garrison soldiers were given permission to go to a neighbouring
island of the Tawi Tawi group on a hunting expedition after wild
boar. Relations with the Moros on that island having been, at least,
nominally friendly, there was not the slightest hesitation in granting
the soldiers' request, particularly as there had been no fresh meat
in the garrison for some time.

The men left in a rowboat and spent the first few hours in Balambing,
an ex-pirate community, where they were entertained in the best
Moro fashion, leaving amidst mutual expressions of regret and
good-will. The Moros' love for firearms is well known, and about ten
of them were so taken with the soldiers' rifles that they accompanied
the party, ostensibly to act as guides, but in reality to witness
the sport. Delayed by a strong tide running to windward, they camped
that night on a lonely beach, both Americans and Moros in the best
possible humour.

After a supper cooked over the camp-fire, all the soldiers, with the
exception of one man who was preparing for bed, indulged in a game
of cards, the Moros watching the proceeding with apparent interest,
but talking a great deal