Terry

by Charles Goff Thomson

  CHAPTER XV

  THE SIGN

  The sun striking on his face through the open window waked the Majorto the cool clear morning. Sitting up, he saw Terry sunning himself onthe threshold, wrapped in a scant blanket such as Ohto had worn, hishair wet from his bath in the creek which emptied the big spring atthe foot of the crag. Even in the stupor in which he woke from hisheavy sleep the Major noted the ruddy glow of the skin which coveredTerry's bare arm and leg, was surprised at the development of themuscles which played into being at each slight movement. His face wasas evenly pallid as ever.

  The Major stopped yawning. "Terry, I always thought of you asbeing--sort of skinny, but you're as hard as nails."

  He wrapped closer in the cotton cloth. "I've always taken good care ofmyself, Major. From the time when I was a boy I have thought a gooddeal about--all sorts of things--and I realized early that one thingwas certain--that this is the only body I'm ever going to have."

  Learning from Terry where he could wash up, the Major made his way tothe creek and after disrobing waded into the deepest spot and soapedhimself liberally. For a moment he enjoyed the bath, but as thespring was the source of water supply for the village and as the youngwomen were allotted the task of carrying it, his exhilaration wasshort lived. The water came but to his knees, so most of the half hourhe spent in the pool he lay submerged to his chin, his agonizedbachelor face exposed to the maidens who observed him from the springthree rods away. He would have taken no comfort from the thought--ifit had come to him--that to them comparative nakedness was the normalstate.

  Mountain springs are usually clear and chill, and this was noexception. He was numb with cold when, hearing a snort ofirrepressible joy behind him, he twisted his head about to discoverTerry enjoying his discomfiture. After Terry drove the girls away theMajor jumped out of the creek and hurried into his clothes, bluelipped, shivering.

  "T-Terry, you'd better q-q-quit laughing! M-Millions have beenm-m-murdered on less p-p-provocation!"

  After breakfast Terry, intent upon discovery of some way out of theirpredicament, left for a long walk. Alone in the little house, theMajor brooded half the morning over the plight in which the oldchief's dictum had placed them, then dismissed the profitlessforebodings and went out to the village to study the natives.

  The clearing was empty of men. A score of the older women werefetching wood to the fires, another group were washing camotes andthreshing rice with hand flails. Upward of a hundred naked children,pot-bellied, straightbacked, stared at the big white stranger as hepassed, then ceased their pathetically futile efforts at play andtrooped along behind him, their eyes as old as Ohto's. He looked in atthe young women weaving kapok thread into cloth for blankets and thegarments the women wore, but recognizing in the third house he enteredthree of the girls who had watched him in the creek, he fled inconfusion.

  He ate dinner alone, as Terry had not returned. In the afternoon hecontinued his study of tribal customs. He had known the Luzon headhunters intimately, so had a basis of comparison. He went among theolder women freely and sat with them about the fires, practicing hisBogobo, questioning, enlarging his vocabulary, winning theirfriendliness.

  As the afternoon waned he left the clearing, feeling in need ofexercise. He strode rapidly about the circumference of the plateau andas he threaded the fringe of woods that separated the main clearingfrom Ohto's reservation, he halted suddenly as he saw Ahma trippingtoward him on her way to Ohto's house.

  His first wild impulse was to dodge among the trees and avoid her, butas she had seen him he stood still until she should pass. But sheswerved toward him and approaching with light, swift tread of freelimbs she stopped a few feet before him, smiling.

  Embarrassed by the creamy curves of shoulder and limbs, he soughtdiversion in the treetops. She spoke, and at the sound of the clearlittle voice he looked at her, and in looking forgot the eccentricityof her frank costume. Her dark eyes held him: he knew that he wasgazing at the only wholly ingenuous being he had ever seen. Heswallowed convulsively.

  "Hello," he said.

  Bronner was subtle to a fault!

  Puzzled at the word, she wrinkled her nose in delicious groping forunderstanding, then laughed up at him. And with the laugh somethingpopped within his sturdy chest.

  He hastily substituted the Hillmen's word of greeting, which he hadlearned during the morning, and joined loudly in her merriment. Elatedwith this success, he marshalled his resources of dialect to furtherimpress her but with a last bewildering glance from her dark eyes sheflitted homeward.

  He watched the white figure out of sight in the woods, vaguely awarethat some new emotion had come to him. He stood among the trees someminutes after she had disappeared, then turned toward the village.

  "Sus-marie-hosep!" he exploded.

  * * * * *

  At supper time the clearing was again crowded with the entirepopulation of the village, the men having returned from their pursuitsof hunting, gardening and patrolling the great slope. Terry andBronner talked little, each taking his usual seat at window and doorto idly watch the crowd outside.

  Most of the Hillmen ignored their presence, but one, a squat, powerfulfellow, swaggered by the door where Terry sat. Twice he passed, andeach time he leered derisively at the white man.

  "Who's your friend, Terry?" queried the Major.

  "Oh, that's Pud-Pud. He's the town bully--and never has liked me. Heled the crowd that opposed my--staying. He has bothered Ahma a gooddeal, too: wants to marry her. She laughs at him, of course. What haveyou been doing all day, Major?"

  The Major told him of everything but the meeting with Ahma, spokeenthusiastically of the tribe.

  "They're straight Malay, Terry," he wound up. "A pure strain,something you seldom see in the lowlands where the Spanish and Chinesehave addled the blood. They ought to develop rapidly under properguidance--they are a single-minded, sincere, fearless people."

  Terry nodded agreement: "Nor are they the terrible people that theBogobos think them. Their fear of them must have been based on dreadof that sinister belt of forest. A good road will end all that."

  They waited till Pud-Pud made a third mocking trip past their hut, gayin a G-string contrived of a length of the cloth the Major had broughtup: it flamed against the naked brownness of back and legs.

  "He's a lady-killer all right!" Terry said. "Ahma told me that he hadcoaxed the calico away from one of the girls."

  The Major stirred. "You saw Ahma to-day?"

  But he had hesitated so long over the question that Terry, sunk indeep thought, did not hear him, and somehow he did not feel likerepeating. He turned in on the hard bed with new things on his mind.Measles is not the only affection that "takes harder" near maturity.

  Several days passed without incident. Each morning the clearingemptied after breakfast as all but the cooks left for the day's work.Usually Terry wandered out alone, returning at evening to sit in thedoorway, lost in study.

  Daily the Major loitered about the village till late afternoon, thentook up his stand in the woods near Ohto's domicile, waiting: and Ahmanever failed him. Bashfully distressed at first in the close proximityto the wealth of charm revealed by her scant costume, he soon becameunconscious of it, her garb was so entirely congruous to her free,unschooled nature. He practiced his sketchy dialect upon her,delighted in each successful transmission of thought, more delightedin the naive bewilderment that many of his linguistic efforts wroughtin her frank features.

  The fifth day she failed to appear. He waited long, restless, tillcertain that she would not come and then set off through the woods,his big heart yearning for an unattainable something he could notdefine or classify.

  Regardless of where he went the Major crossed the tableland andstarted down the incline of the slope. A mile, and he came across someyoung hunters beating deer into a fenced runway that converged to anarrow opening where two warriors stood ready, armed with greatspears. He turned to the left, crossing a little
burnt clearing whichstill bore the stubble of the season's harvest. Another half-mile andhe suddenly came upon a grass lean-to behind which two old Hillmengrimly stirred a simmering pot from which arose an overpoweringstench: he fled the spot, knowing the sinister character of thevenomous brew.

  The sun was low when he returned to the hut, still unhappy overAhma's failure to appear. In a few minutes Terry entered the shack. Hehad come from the direction of Ohto's house, and his face was clearedof the perplexity of the last few days.

  During supper Terry studied the moody face of his friend, but foreborecomment. At the hour of sunset--the hour when the superstitiousHillmen looked for their "signs"--the savages thronged the clearing inmute expectancy. It was apparent that Ohto's injunction had beencommunicated throughout the Hills, as each night the crowd who waitedthe sign was augmented by contingents from other villages. Thehundreds stood, silent, as the sun sank slowly into a horizon of whiteclouds which flushed pink, brightened into shades of rose and crimson.For a brief moment the upturned faces of the brown host were ruddied;they stood motionless, mute, while dusk settled. Then night fellalmost at a stroke.

  Again there had been no revelation. As the heaped fires illuminatedthe clearing, five mature Hillmen stalked past the white men's hut andinto the forest. Terry identified them to the Major as the sub-chiefswho ruled the five adjacent villages.

  The Major sat in the window a while, watching the Hillmen, whosquatted around the fires smoking their ridiculously tiny pipes andconversing in low gutturals. He fidgeted, then left Terryunceremoniously and skirting the village through the woods unseen bythe crowd, he waited an hour near Ohto's house in the hope of seeingAhma. Disappointed, he returned and threw himself on the cot.

  Terry sat in his accustomed place in the doorway, watching the fleecyclouds that a high wind drove across the sky, vast sliding shutterswhich opened and closed over the cool glow of the moon. The coldbreeze chilled the Major, and he drew his blanket tight about him.Terry's voice roused him from his dejected reverie.

  "Major, I notice that you didn't carry your gun to-day. Don't gowithout it again."

  The Major half rose: "Why--you don't think--I haven't seen anyindication of--"

  "I guess you've forgotten that we are in the Hill Country. If theyfind a 'sign' that is unfavorable to us--there won't be any delay. Andwe don't want to sell out cheaply."

  The grave judicial tones startled the Major. In his absorption in thewhite girl he had lost sight of their precarious situation.

  Terry went on: "The tide of sentiment is turning against us. They seemmore antagonistic, more sullen. So please be careful."

  Terry lapsed silent and sat in the door, chin in hand. Soon theincreasing wind drove the Major under his blanket again, and overcomeby a curious feeling of comfort and security in the mere presence ofthe slight figure huddled at the door, he soon fell asleep.

  Terry, unmindful of the chill breeze, remained in the doorway, deep inthought. Suddenly he brought his hand to his knee in quick decision,and after tip-toeing over to the Major to be sure that he slept, hesilently departed the hut and skirting the edge of the moonlitclearing, disappeared into the lane that led to the house where Ahmalived.

  * * * * *

  Toward morning the Major woke with a start, bewildered by an unearthlysound that smote his ears. The wind had risen to a gale, tearing thefleece from the sky, so that the moon peered down upon a sea oftreetops turbulent with the buffets of rushing air.

  He sat up straight to relieve the thunderous humming in his head, thencomprehending that the amazing sound was a reality, he strove to solvethe source of the bewildering tones. A deep, low murmuring filled theair, swelling in volume with each heavier gust which drove over themountain: the sound deepened and strengthened, mounting to a sustainedmusical rumble that almost stupefied him.

  "Ooooommmmmm-ah-oooommmmmmmm-ah-oooooo-ommmmmmm." The muffled volumediminished, increased again with fresh burst of fleeting wind, and asthe wind subsided suddenly, the vibrant note fluttered, died away.

  The Major had lived too long and too much to believe in thesupernatural but in the dark he found relief in the sound of his ownvoice.

  "Sus-marie-hosep!" he breathed. "Some ghost! No wonder they believe insigns up here!"

  He saw that the wind had blown shut the door into Terry's room.Knowing his habit of ventilation he rose to open it, and as it swungajar he saw that Terry was not there.

  He stood in the dim room a moment, staring out of the window at thetriple rows of huts which the moonlight had transformed into elfinplayhouses. Perplexity as to Terry's whereabouts gave way to deepanxiety. Then his eyes caught the flicker of something white in theshadowy grove that fronted Ohto's house. Looking closely, he watchedit flutter away among the trees, then a darker figure emerged from thespot.

  It was Terry.

  The Major's big hands closed hard upon the bamboo sill. Ahma! Terry!For the first time in his passionless life he felt the fangs of thegreen-eyed monster.

  An impulse to deceive, unusual with him, hurried the Major into thefolds of his blanket before Terry entered, but by the time Terry hadthrown himself upon his couch the Major was ashamed of the duplicityand spoke to uncover the deceit.

  "Terry, what was that infernal sound that waked me up a while ago?"

  "The gale playing on the Agong, Major."

  The Major said no more but tossed on the hard couch until daylightshot through the trees. He rose at once and in a few minutes Terryjoined him, a little hollow-eyed with fatigue. The Major pointed athis soiled shirt and breeches, then at the soaked leggings and shoes.

  "Man, you're a sight! Fall in the creek?"

  Terry grinned contentedly. "No. This waiting was gettingmonotonous--so I fixed up a sign for them!"

  "That infernal noise, you mean?"

  "No. The wind always does that."

  "Well, what did you do?"

  Terry's grin broadened. "I'm not going to spoil it for you by telling,but if you stick around you'll see a sizeable 'natural' phenomenonwithin a day or so. In the east, too, the most favorable quarter!"

  The Major could extract nothing further from him, so desisted after anirate: "Well, you let me in on these stunts after this. You're allin--and here I lay sleeping all night!"

  Terry sobered. "Major, we did not need you--we got along all right."

  "We?" Heartsick, the Major sought to plunge the iron deeper. But Terryhad slipped out to clean up at the creek before the girls should come.

  That morning they noted that for the first time a number of warriorshung around the village, watching the hut where the white men livedwith a studied insolence that proved their hostility. Pud-Pud was ofthem, and loudest in his talk. At noon a large crowd had gathered,composed of those most inimical to the strangers.

  While the two stood near the entrance to their shack watching theeddying currents of almost naked humanity they saw Pud-Pud detachhimself from his companions and swagger toward them, spear in hand.

  The crowd watched him eagerly as he advanced to test the mettle of thepale outlanders: Pud-Pud had boasted that he would end this suspense.

  The insolent savage advanced, stopped ten feet from them andbrandished his weapon, his attitude one of utter contempt. He spat atthem.

  Rage suffused the Major's face and his hand crept into his shirtfront, but before he could withdraw the gun Terry whispered arestraining caution.

  "I know him, Major,--a grandstander."

  Terry stepped in front of the Major and returned the savage's stare. Amoment they battled, then the Hillman saw something in the white facethat disconcerted him, so that his offensive black eyes lost theirhint of insult, wavered, fell. As Terry moved toward him slowly,Pud-Pud hesitated, then gave way before the stern visage of theapproaching American.

  Terry, boring him with cold gray eyes, came faster: retreating rapidlyto maintain his distance from the white man, Pud-Pud hurried hisbackward pace toward the ring of silent Hillmen who watched them.H
eedless of his steps, conscious only of an overwhelming desire tomaintain a safe distance from this purposeful white man whom he hadaffronted, Pud-Pud backed away, eyes fastened upon the pale avenger.

  Moving suddenly to the right, Terry forced him to alter the directionof his hurrying footsteps. The rapid heels hit a bowlder and Pud-Pudfell backward into one of the cooking places, his spear flyingaimlessly into the air as the sitting portions of his anatomy cameinto contact with the red hot stones.

  One howl and one swift contortion of outraged flesh lifted him fromthe spot and he escaped through the crowd, followed by the mockinglaughter of the Hillmen. Terry picked up the spear and crossed thecircle of savages to hand it to the largest and loudest savage in thegroup to which the braggart had belonged. He looked him full in theeye with a significance fully understood by the onlookers, thenturned his back upon him and returned to the Major.

  The Major was convulsed: "I saw what you--had in mind--when youcircled him toward it," he laughed. "It must have been hot withnothing but a red G-string between his rump and those coals!"

  But the incident was significant of the attitude of many of theHillmen. Inside the hut they examined their pistols carefully, Terryinsisting that the Major take two of his extra magazines.

  The Major, in grim mood, left for a long walk. In crossing theclearing he purposely cut straight toward a group of warriors who atthe last moment stepped sullenly aside to let him pass. Surlilypleased with his little victory, he crossed the broad plateau andstruck down the slope, unconscious of his direction in the worriedfumbling of his problems and his hurt. He started down the first greatincline, distrait, sorely troubled. He crossed a green expanse wheregrass had sprung up over the site of an abandoned clearing, and as hereached the trees which marked its edge he was startled by the suddenappearance of two Hillmen who stepped out to confront him, pointingtheir spears toward the village in unmistakable gesture.

  As he angrily struck another course he realized for the first time howcomplete his absorption in Ahma had become. He had forgotten that heand Terry were prisoners, had lost sight of the mission that hadbrought him into the Hills.

  Chastened, he slowly retraced his way to the edge of the woods and satdown upon a windfall to think it all out. He blamed only himself. Herinterest in him, he thought dully, had been but a friendship naturaltoward the friend of the one for whom she cared. Little things cameback to him: her expression when she watched Terry approach, thesympathy that existed between them, little understandings which he hadattributed to nothing more than longer acquaintance. It suddenlyoccurred to him that she had helped nurse him when he was ill. And itcame to him that he had given little thought to the days when Terryhad fought off death, had been heedless of what those days must havebeen when Terry looked from the mountain deep into the valley of theshadow, he groaned aloud.

  He shook his head, miserably: "Here I've been, mooning around likea--like a--and left him to do all the worrying--all the planning! Lastnight I slept while he--" He cursed himself for a fatuous fool.

  When he rose, the bitterness of spirit had left him, and his sacrificehad been made, but his lips were white with suffering.

  As he neared the village his course took him about the base of thecrag, and as he rounded the western side he heard the murmur ofsubdued voices. He slowed and approached cautiously. A juttingbuttress of rock masked the talkers until he was almost upon them, andas he turned this corner he halted in a wretched pang of the jealousyhe thought he had subdued.

  Terry and Ahma sat on a bench of rock, their backs to him, unaware ofhis presence. Terry's trim head was bent forward as if he studied thewestern horizon; she leaned against him in gentle contact of firmwhite shoulder.

  For a moment the Major's heart thumped painfully, then the confusionof the unwitting eavesdropper compelled him to make his presenceknown. He did so with that fine discrimination and artful delicacy hesummoned in times of emotional stress.

  "Hello," he said.

  Both turned, and rose, unembarrassed. Terry's welcome shone in hisface, and Ahma was radiant with a quick emotion which, true to thetraditions of those among whom she had been reared, she made no effortto dissemble or restrain. The Major dropped his eyes before the gaze,noting, dully, how wind and sun had faintly tanned the neck andshoulders and limbs. Sun and wind were patent, too, in the vigor andelasticity of the slim, loose clad form.

  "I'm teaching her English, Major," Terry said.

  For a moment she maintained her searching of the Major's averted eyes,then spoke a word to Terry and turned to go. A few steps took her tothe buttress, where she stopped and turned her eyes full upon theMajor, and spoke in English, teasingly:

  "Hello, sir."

  The Major answered in a voice that sounded harsh in his own ears andwatched her disappear around the corner. Then he spoke to Terrywithout facing him.

  "She does speak English!"

  "Not much, yet. She really meant 'good-by.'"

  They started toward the village slowly, each wrapped in his ownmeditations. Passing round the eastern side of the cone, Terry haltedto gaze searchingly at the Great Agong hung over the stone platformfar overhead. Anxiety was evident in his manner as he hastened tocatch up with the Major, who had walked on.

  The throng had gathered earlier than usual, the clearing was packedmore densely than upon any previous afternoon. The two Americansavoided the clearing, passing to their shack directly through thewoods.

  The Major dropped down on his bench and pillowed his head on whatremained of his pack, staring up at the grass roofing. Shortly theserving woman appeared with their suppers, but neither moved, so sheplaced the two bowls on the floor mat near where Terry sat andwithdrew noiselessly.

  As the sun sank below the trees, the Major stirred out of hismelancholy and twisting over on the hard cot sought the reason forTerry's long silence. Terry sat, as always, at the top of the crudesteps, gazing over the trees. The Major was shocked at the utterdejection of the slumped figure, the pain that showed in the setmuscles of the thin face.

  The Major sat up. "What is the matter, Terry? You aren't sick?"

  "No, Major. I'm all right." His tone was weary.

  "What is the matter! Is this suspense--"

  Terry shook his head. "No, Major. It's something else--something home.I expected--I hoped for some news before I came up--news I did notreceive."

  A flash of memory, and the Major asked: "A cable?"

  At the bare nod of head he jumped upright and reaching into his hippocket brought out his purse to extract the cablegram he had broughtup but forgotten. Crossing the little room, he dropped it on Terry'sknees.

  Terry ripped open the envelope, hesitated, then unfolded the message.And as the Major looked on, every vestige of care and patientsuffering left the white face, the wistful line was ironed from thecorner of his mouth and Terry stood up a joyous, vibrant youth.

  He had read:

  Lieut. Richard Terry, P.C.

  Davao, Mindanao, P. I.

  At last the perfect Christmas gift. Am sailing immediately to claim it. Arriving Zamboanga January twenty-sixth with Susan and Ellis.

  DEANE.

  He carefully refolded the sheet and placed it in his shirt pocket,then turned to the Major, his eyes darkened with such a joy as theMajor had never seen.

  "This message will cost you a wedding present, Major!"

  "What now?" asked the Major. Things were moving too fast since hereached the Hills.

  "It is from ... a girl. I left home--oh, foolishly. But she is on herway over here, with my sister and brother-in-law. That's where thepresent comes in!"

  "But--but--what about Ahma?"

  "Ahma?" Terry asked, in his turn astounded. In Terry's bewildermentthe Major understood that his own unhappiness had been unfounded. Athis shout of delight the Hillmen all turned toward the white men'shut, wondering at the joyous antics of the strange pair.

>   In a few minutes the Major had calmed sufficiently to discuss theiraffairs.

  "But, Major," Terry asked him, "why did you think that we--Ahma andI--that we--you know?"

  "Why, everything. I saw you leave her early this morning over there inthe woods. Then, this afternoon--the way you sat together, and--andeverything!"

  "Last night--why, she helped me fix up that 'sign' I told you about:and to-day we were talking about you--she has asked me a millionquestions about you--and about white girls. She has a jealous streakin her--as you will learn!"

  More explanations, and Terry suddenly reverted to their plight.

  "Now everything depends upon that sign I fabricated. If it fails--orif an unfavorable natural sign comes first.... You know I must be inZamboanga on the twenty-sixth, some way."

  He lapsed into reverie. The Major fidgeted, reached for his hat andstepped to the door, a bit shamefaced.

  "Terry," he said, awkwardly, "if you don't mind I think I'll run overtoward Ahma's house. There is a lot to talk over with her now and Iguess I--"

  His words were drowned in a resounding crash that blotted out allother sounds. The village shook with the jarring impact of some vastmissile striking near, the air filled with the roar of shatteringrock and heavy rumble of sliding earth.

  The Hillmen bounded upright at the first terrific crash and stoodtransfixed, witless, superstitious fear written upon every brown face.

  A dead silence followed the dying out of the last thunderous echoes,then a child whimpered, another, and the women took up the whiningnote. A warrior, one of the sub-chiefs from a neighboring village,raised a braceleted arm in astounded gesture toward the crag.

  "The SIGN! The SIGN!" he shouted.

  The thousand heads raised as one, and taking up the cry, surged towardthe great cone, sifting through the timber like brown seeds through ascreen.