Terry shook hands with the three in turn. All were out-doors men, bronzed, diffident with the social shyness of men who live their lives alone or among none but alien people. Lindsey and Cochran were square-set, serious young men: Casey, older, but of eager, enthusiastic mien.

The Major discussed them as he and Terry left the club.

"They're three of the best planters in the Gulf. You'll have no trouble with them. But you may with some others, those who have a fancied grievance against the government just now. I had better start at the beginning.

"You know the best hemp in the world grows down there--soil, climate, rainfall all combine wonderfully to make it the one ideal spot for hemp production. In another twenty years it will probably rate as the richest single agricultural area on the globe--that's why those little fellows over there"--he indicated a pair of j.a.panese pa.s.sing on the opposite side of the street--"are piling into Davao so fast these days.

"The world needs hemp--and areas where it can be cultivated are rare.

Three years ago a little stampede occurred into Davao; the pioneers are a mixed lot--about sixty Americans, a few Britishers, a scattering of Moros and Filipinos and nearly two hundred j.a.ps. The j.a.ps are quiet--you will seldom see them: they stay on their places and 'saw wood'; they're backed by some syndicate--probably their government.

But the others are lone handers, working on their own 'shoe-strings'

or financed by the contributions of optimistic shareholders in Manila.

"They are good men, these planters. You will like them. They went into the fastnesses of Mindanao, braved the wild tribes, cleared their land, planted hemp, working largely with their own hands--and in a climate where they say the white man shall labor only with his head.

You will hear all about their troubles and difficulties--you won't hear much else down there but hemp--hemp and wild tribes! Hemp and wildmen--that's Davao!

"About their grievance. They cleared and planted rapidly and have raised fabulous crops, but when it came time to strip the hemp for market they found that the wildmen upon whom they had banked as potential labor would not work. A few came and stayed, but most of them quit after earning a few pesos. So the hemp rotted in the field.

Desperate, facing ruin, some of the planters went after labor too strongly, frightened and browbeat the Bogobos into working. The scheme worked, so a condition approximating peonage was developed upon several of the plantations.

"We ordered it stopped. Those planters are very sore, looking for trouble. That's the story--and the condition you must face, and overcome. You've got to hold down that cla.s.s of planter, but at the same time encourage the Bogobos to work for them. It means prosperity for the planters, and money and comfort for the Bogobos--and it will keep them out of the hills: we want the Bogobos near the coast, under civilizing influences. They are newly won to us and apt to fade away into the foothills on the least provocation."

Crossing the acacia-shaded lawns of the beautiful plaza he stopped in front of the artistic concrete bandstand, jerking a big thumb at the dedication inscribed upon the ivy-covered facade.

"Pershing Plaza," he read aloud. "He was the last military Governor, you remember. I knew him: a good man. No genius--just a good man, hard worker: has two traits that will carry him a long way if he gets the chance--common sense and industry. Wants to know everything about everything, and never quits working. Surrounds himself with workers: gives his men their jobs and doesn't bother them while they do them--just wants results.

"'Make good or make way!' Some slogan! Pershing, Wood, Scott, Carpenter,--America has sent some of her best into Mindanao. I'm glad to be here--aren't you?"

At the sudden question Terry turned to him.

"Yes," he said. "I hope to be--useful."

They had reached the entrance to the government building: the Major paused at the foot of the mahogany staircase to conclude earnestly: "It is fashionable just now in Manila to decry this effort to inst.i.tute civil government among the Moros--but I know you are not of the type to be influenced. Governor Mason is making good: you will see that after you have been here a month. He is a wonder, Terry,--probably the only man who could handle this situation with a few Constabulary. Study, patience, and square-dealing, backed by occasional use of troops, prepared the Moros for this experiment, and Governor Mason is carrying it forward almost alone--opposing the backward tendencies of Sululand with little else save personality, inspiration and a wonderful knowledge of Malay character.

"You're going to like it down here," he wound up suddenly, confused by his own unaccustomed oratory.

Mounting the polished stairway, they pa.s.sed down the tall concrete corridors and into the Major's office. He drew up a chair for Terry and seated himself behind a desk whose orderly array of accessories bespoke his methodical bachelor habits. The walls were covered with large-scale maps of Moroland showing location of various tribes, scattered settlements and district boundaries, with great blank areas eloquent of the unknown character of unexplored fastnesses. The crosses which indicated the distribution of Constabulary forces controlled from his office dotted every sizable island: pins bearing the names of government agents showed into what remote regions our trail-breakers had penetrated. One purple-flagged pin showed a veterinarian warring against a cattle plague in Jolo: a blue flag thrust into one of the blank s.p.a.ces of Mindanao indicated the whereabouts of a fearless ethnologist from the Field Museum: a red sticker bore the name of an engineer who had been out of touch for six weeks, running the line of a new trail across the great bulk of Mindanao. The map was symbolic of the Constabulary, whose duty it is to know all, to protect all.

Leaving Terry to his study of the maps the Major spent an unapologetic fifteen minutes clearing the ma.s.s of papers that had acc.u.mulated during the lunch hour, then turned to him. For an hour he outlined the salient problems which would confront the young officer in his new a.s.signment. He was all business, curt, concise, definite. He touched upon the ordinary service activities of drill, patrol, secret service, supply and report, then took up those phases which required delicate and original handling.

"Now, Lieutenant, we did not pull you down here to handle an ordinary job--you know it means something these days to get a Mindanao a.s.signment."

Terry did know it. Only men who had demonstrated unusual ability in their line had been sent to Moroland under Governor Mason. As the months went by the northern provinces were being stripped of their crack men for a.s.signment to the southern experiment, so that detail there had become a mark of distinction. He had been as surprised as pleased at his summons from Sorsogon, a poor, colorless province where he had spent seven months in uneventful, and as he thought, inconspicuous service.

The Major detected something of what was pa.s.sing in his mind: "You were selected because of your understanding of native character, your sympathy with them: that, and your faculty for learning dialects. By the way, what is your method of studying these languages--your record of three dialects in half a year is remarkable."

"There was little else to do--and I like to study them."

The Major noted the slight flush of embarra.s.sment. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a card, scanning it carefully before continuing:

"Your qualification card indicates that you are an unusual pistol shot: it reads 'Pistol rating--two-handed expert, extraordinary in accuracy and rapidity.'"

Disregarding Terry's increased embarra.s.sment he pushed the question: "How did you acquire such skill?"

"Well, as I had to carry a sidearm, I thought to make it useful--it is not much of an ornament. After I became really interested it cost me about fifty dollars a month for ammunition."

"Well, things happen down here! Some day you may be glad you spent the money--your skill may come in handy!"

"On--men?" It was the one aspect of the service from which Terry shrank.

"Well, I hope not. It seldom comes to that. But a number of hard characters have been concentrating recently in the Davao Gulf, a batch of discharged convicts who served long terms for brigandage and murder. We have been watching them, but nothing significant transpired till last month."

The muscles of his heavy jaw tightened as he went on: "You have heard of Malabanan, haven't you?"

"The ladrone leader?"

"Yes, he. He was released from Bilibid prison last summer and came through here last month. One of our operatives uncovered him on the boat--traveling as an ordinary steerage pa.s.senger. He went to Davao, and I fear it means trouble. I think he gathered that tough crew together to operate in Davao, thinking to test us out now that the Army is gone."

His face was grim as he snapped: "Terry, watch him! And if he makes a single move--smash him! Make no false starts, do not arrest him unless you are sure that your evidence will convict in the courts. Give him plenty of rope--but if he breaks loose ... smash him hard!

Understand?"

Terry nodded quietly, but something in his competent face contented his chief. He repeated his warning against premature action:

"Be sure you can get him before you move--he is slippery and has friends in high native circles. We do not want to be turned down in the courts at this stage of the game, and it may be he intends to play the game square--plant hemp, for instance. But if he wants a showdown--smash him good and plenty!"

He briefly reviewed the substance of his instructions: "You can see that your work is going to call for a good deal of tact and patience: patience with the angry planters, with the wild people. Everybody is scared and jumpy down there just now, and we want to restore their confidence."

Terry had listened attentively throughout the interview, speaking only to answer questions. He broke the silence which followed:

"Major, I have heard a great deal about the Hill People of Davao: will I be near them?"

The Major eyed him queerly for a moment before answering: "About thirty miles as the bird flies," he said, "but about a million to all intents and purposes! No living man has been among them--those who have tried have left their bones rotting in the dark forest. They kill all who attempt to reach them, expeditions in force find nothing as the Hillmen simply fade away before their approach.

"I don't want you to attempt to go among them--in fact I expressly forbid it, as it means certain death. But some day we hope to open the Hills up, to win among them: it is one of the Governor's cherished ambitions. So learn what you can about them from the old Bogobos who live in the foothills, and report any interesting traditions you may hear. Pieced together, the tales may make a helpful contribution--may help solve the riddle of how to get to them peaceably. Not that you or I are likely to live long enough to see it done--they are too confounded wild, too inaccessible behind their jungled hills."

He shrugged his broad shoulders in eloquent dismissal of a vain hope, and rose: "I want you to meet the Governor. I'll see if we can get to him yet."

He strode out of the office, returning immediately to inform Terry that the Governor was closeted with the two Moro datos whom he had fetched to the capitol by launch.

"They haven't promised to be good boys yet," he chuckled, "but they will before he finishes with them! His Secretary says that he expects you and me to go down to San Ramon with him to-night at seven sharp, to dine with Wade, the prison superintendent. You're in luck, Lieutenant. It will be an evening you won't soon forget."

So it proved to be.

CHAPTER IV

THE FANATIC