The Law of the Bolo

f he dared to come, as an American officer, on to his mountains, Captain Basil Hayle spent three days in Katubig, resting his men, and preparing to do the very thing which Felizardo had forbidd

t on the troops in the dense jungle, where you hardly have time to bring your carbine to your shoulder once, much less have

onstabulary soldiers were full of confidence and ardour, as a result of their first victory, he looked forward with a certain amount of misgiving, not becau

many things; for the newcomer had known Don José Ramirez and the corporal of the Guardia Civil, and could remember the building of what was then the new gallows at Calocan, on which they had hanged Cinicio Dagujob the ladrone thirty-five

en have died because Felizardo loved her so well. She is still alive, they say; and I hear there is a daughter.” Basil coloured involuntarily. “How do I hear all these things? Oh, now that they no longer have reason to fear us, we Spaniards can go anywhere, just as the English have always done. The Law of the Bolo is for other Filipinos, and for you Americanos”—he laughed gently—

st word of advice. “I say you are mad to go on Felizardo’s mountains at all—what harm does the old man do to

yle deman

r; but I have heard often. What are they, Senor? How much you Americanos have to learn about these Islands! Why, just savages—quite dif

r, I am not going the head-hunters’ direction this time; but I may do

elizardo, then the head-hunters, and only sixty half-trained Samar tao as his troops. They are rash, very r

mb. Up to that point, he had not seen a sign of any human being, not heard a sound, save that of the [72]waves breaking on the shore, and the wind murmuring through the cocoa-nut palms; but no sooner had he started to force his way into the jungle on the

. “What is that?” he d

larm-horn. Now, every one of these ladrones knows we are comin

tter our chances;” but already his own hopes of another successful fight had v

one’s way upwards, half-blinded with perspiration all [73]the time, of dragging one’s boots, which now seemed to weigh a hundred pounds each, out of that horrible mire at every step, and then sliding back half the distance one had advanced. It was impossible to keep in any sort of order so as to be ready to

same moment, the serjeant, who was just behind him, saw it too, and gave a shout. The Constabulary tried to close up, but the last man was a full hundred yards behind, down the slope, and it was too late. The bolomen broke cover—a couple of hundred of them at least—whilst the Constabulary were still a helpless rab

heir carbines, and set to work in their national fashion; those who had no bolos clubbed their carbines, and did their best that way. All died standing up, and almost every Visayan killed or wounded a Tagalog befo

e—for, despite his orders, those round him continued to blaze away wildly—that he could see nothing of what was occurring below. Only, knowing th

could see none on [75]the slope below. Nor could he see any of his other men, at least until he went down to l

any were still alive. For some inexplicable reason the outlaws had disappeared—they had not even made an attempt against him and his own

hout even one single boloman having attempted his life. Moreover, he had remained where he was, whilst his men were being cut to pieces below him. At first, this latter thought was the most bitter of all; then suddenly he understood, with a great sense of relief—Feliz

he would have to send a second message—a message of a very different character—reporting that he had lost fifty men and fifty carbines, that the outlaws

im. The serjeant, a grizzled veteran who had received his first training at Calocan, under the successor of the old corporal of the Guardia Civil, tried to comfort him. “It is Fate, Senor. Why worry? Last time we had the luck; to-day the luck is with those accursed ladrones. Doubtless, next time we shall have our chance again. We

al, which eased Basil’s mind considerably, kno

ey had reckoned dead, scrambled through the jungle to rejoin them. Basil breathed more freely when he foun

the serjeant. “I don’t think they will follow us there; but,

to look back, caught sight of a figure moving along the edge of the jungle, where the bush ended and the cocoa-nut g

he boloman has to come within range of the carbines long before he reache

were following just at the edge of the jungle; then, suddenly, they rounded the point by Katubig, when you come in sight of the village, and for a moment they forgot even the bolomen, for Katubig w

ot a single canoe left on the beach, and straightway he understood. Katubig was practically one of Felizardo’s villages—he was a f

ilippine [79]Scouts quartered. There he would be safe, and from there he could send a report of his defeat to Manila. It was not a pleasant prospect. The Constabulary and the Scouts did not love one another overmuch, and it was humiliating to have to seek refuge with the rival force. Still, he could see no alternative. Even as he decided, he could catch glimpses of Felizardo’s bolomen in the

ng round, just outside the circle of firelight, was not an exhilarating one. Consequently, they started off for Igut very cheerfully. True, they had lost most of their comrades, and had been badly beaten by the accursed Tagalog outlaws; but, after all, what matter? They themselves were a

esque, almost fascinating, to a chance visitor, who knew that he was going to leave it in a few hours; but when you had to live there, you quickly came to see

ry heavily on her hands, she used to spend many an hour lying back in her long bamboo chair, watching the view with l

hey would then make their way together to the spirit shop next to the Chinaman’s. A little later, the Supervisor and the school teacher—white officials these—would come round the corner and follow the others to the same place, where presently her own husband would join them. Then, just at sundown, a squad of Scouts would loaf across the plaza to perform what they called mounting guard at the gaol. With that, the

]fiercest, always seemed the same. True, every now and then, at irregular intervals, a Government launch would come in with mails or stores. More rarely still, a trading steamer, with rust-streaked funnel and sides, a veritable maritime curiosity which would have been condemned to the scrap-heap anywhere else, would wheeze and cough her wa

er been back, never spoken to a woman of her own race—for her husband had been told pointedly by the general in command that his only chance of retaining his commission was to remain at his station, and get his men in

n horror. Once, and once only, had she turned on her husband, and that was on the occasion when he brought the Supervisor and the Presidente—the latter a mestizo—in to dinner. The experiment was never repeated; possibly because Bush was really frightened at the storm he h

an perspire and pant. On the plaza nothing had stirred. The women in the Chinaman’s store had quickly grown weary of wrangling, and had s

ed towards the setting sun, longing for it to disappear behind [84]the

had then gone to sleep over his task, came to his senses suddenly, and began to gather in his property, as a small party of native soldiers, headed by a white officer, swung down the street. Mrs Bush lay back in her chair, and watched through the blind with languid interest. There was so

and, almost unconsciously, came to the rail

rs of the belfry, threw themselves down on the ground and produced the inevitable cigarettes. From the barracks at [85]the upper end of the plaza, a score

ite the insults, Hayle’s men smoked on unconcernedly. Had they not great things to relate when the women

ter, her wish was gratified, for, after asking a question of one of the Scouts, who came forward rather sullenly, Basil Hayle started to cross the plaza towards her house. He was a little weary, his walk s

adding gratuitously, “As usual.” Nor did he know where the Scout officer was, or when he would be in. He was not

there can be no rules when you are dealing with such infinitely complex subjects as human form and human character. What is beauty in one woman is mere drabness in another, for beauty is three parts soul and one part form to any one but an animal-man, and animal-men should not count for anything—in fact they should be eliminated whenever possible. The same applies to m

h a soft Southern drawl. “But I get so few

to get him to lend me some food and kit for my men—Felizardo’s people burnt all theirs to-day—and I was

don’t know where—at least, I mean you cannot find him now. But, if you don’t mind waiting, he

awkwardly. “I forgot to tell you my name; i

We heard something of your fight up on the volcano, from an old

wn at his torn and mud-stained uniform.

hey drove you back? What hard luck, after starting so

n as she saw the look in his [88]eyes. “No,” he answ

?” She leaned f

he bolomen were three to one, and they got us on a muddy hillside, you

nded?” she a

en he met one of his own race, one to whom he could speak freely. “Oh, I feel such a hound for leaving them. I was at the head of the column,

en?” sh

stores at Katubig—they burned Katubig itself in fact, but they never tried to touch us. That’s what makes me feel so bad. To think t

ll say you were splendidly brave to go up at all, and sp

not comforted. “It looks bad,” he repeated. “And I

?” she asked. “Tell

greater than the Law of the Bolo, in his life. In a flash, he understood how it was that Felizardo had been ready to

t him here, from the servants. No, Captain Hayle, you must not worry, really you must not. I know it is horrible, to lose your men in

, thinking of his men, away there on Felizardo’s mountain-side; at las

ct completely; and from then, until her husband appeare

y and his chin weak. You could see at a glance why they had transferred him from the Regular Infantry to the Scouts, and sent him to an out-station. They do not like

ate dislike to Bush, and he felt that the latter was by no means grieved over the disaster which had befallen the rival force. Still, the Scout officer agreed readily enough to let him have t

u must stay to dinner

his dirty, torn uniform. “I don’t think I can,

all, one gets used to things in the Philippines. Where are you going to sta

m, if I ever came to Igut, and I sent one of my men to tell him as soon as I got in. I really oug

abruptly, and turned to her husband, who was tugging moodily at his moustache

reful—he was quite familiar and sympathetic. “Shame to send you up there,” he said. “A rabble like yours is n

till, there was one redeeming feature—the way in which Mrs Bush tried to make the best of the situation. She talked rapidly, nervously, all the time, trying to avoid any topic which might possibly lead to discussion; but Bush’s temporary burst of good-nature quickly changed to aggressiveness, then to actual surliness, and some of the things he said made Basil go white with rage. The Scout officer’

ed the door for her, “I think we had better go up on the ba

on to his knees. Basil turned to [93]help him, but sto

Perhaps you had better go;” but she saw him out, saying good-bye to him at the door, before

é had been thirty years previously, shook his head w

he as usua

l means being a foul-mouthed, drunken hog, with a

moderate. Poor lady! He drinks all day with the Presidente, a mestizo insurrecto, and with the Supervisor and th

sympathetically, understanding, being a worthy nephew of Don José of Calocan. Then,

the hills. Old Don José did not love the Filipinos—who could?—but he used to say always that Felizardo was a gentleman, even though he had killed a priest. Your Government will never catch Felizardo, Senor, never. They will w

that the latter would take the form of his dismissal. He wanted to get right away, he told himself, not because of Felizardo’s bolomen, but because, as had been the case when Felizardo himself had first met Fath

e would avoid them in future; and then, seeing Mrs Bush walking across the plaza, he took his hat and hurried af

f the spirit shop, and winked at the Supervisor

eems to have cottoned on to yo

look, then resumed his seat; but he did not forget the

sense, the Supervisor’s brother-in-law. In that letter the clerk, who was no mean observer, made some pointed, and, as it happened, perfectly true re