CHAPTER XVI
CIVILIZATION DAWNS IN THE HILLS
When the tumult had subsided, the amazed Major wheeled to face Terry'squizzical grin.
"Well, Major," he said, "there is their merry little 'sign'! The darnthing worked!"
The Major pulled him toward the door. "Come on," he exclaimed. "Let'ssee what happened."
He hurried down the short ladder ahead of Terry and raced through thestrip of woods to where the mob was packed about the base of the cone.The Major smashed an unceremonious pathway through the brown jam andin a moment they stood at the foot of the crest.
A large segment of the huge pillar of rock had broken off and infalling had carried thousands of tons of shale and eroded stone. Theimmense rock, whose fracture and fall had precipitated the slide, laydirectly under the Tribal Agong, at which the Hillmen were staring up,dumfounded.
Following their upward gaze the Major saw that the fallen stone hadformed the platform beneath the Agong, which now pivoted on itsgranite bracket over a cliff which fell sheer for hundreds of feetbefore curving into the stiff slope where crag fused into tableland.The great black gong hung directly over them. Looking closely,Bronner saw that it swung slowly in the evening breeze, and moved bythe same impulse that had impelled him the first time he stood beneathit, he shouldered their way through the crowd to a safer position.
"You need not worry about its falling, Major. It will hang there for athousand years."
"I know it, but it gets me just the--what's that they're yelling?" heexclaimed, as a swelling chorus of guttural shouts rose from theexcited throng.
"They are saying that the Tribal Agong can never be soundedagain--without the platform they can't reach it." As a new phrase wascaught up and repeated by hundreds of voices he added: "And now theyare calling for Ohto to interpret the sign!"
Several of the older savages tore out of the densely packed throng andsped toward Ohto's house. In a few moments one of them returned andannounced that the chieftain would arrive shortly. The two white men,absorbed in the drama, did not notice that four of the warriors whohad summoned Ohto had returned by another path and taken up theirposition behind the captives, spears in hand, grim.
Ohto advanced slowly through the trees and emerged into the open spaceabout the crag. The Hillmen gave way respectfully and he walked to thebase of the cone through a wide lane opened up for his passage. Ageslowed his steps but he walked erect, his head held high in simpledignity and gratitude for the silent homage his people offered.
Pausing near the base he surveyed the evidences of cleavage of theancient rock, the tribe's historic rallying point. Then he raised hiseyes to the Agong.
The dense circle of Hillmen bated their breath while the belovedpatriarch communed with the spirits of the long line who had heard thehappy song of the bronze-lipped gong. A deep hush pervaded theplateau, now lighted with the last white rays of the dipping sun.
The sage turned to his people, his furrowed face burdened with anadded melancholy. His voice came low and weak, so that the assemblagebent forward in strained silence to hear his fateful words. Terrygripped the Major's arm, whispering the translation.
* * * * *
"Listen, my children. We asked for guidance, and a sign is sent to theeast of Ohto's lodge--a happy omen.
"The breaking of this age-old stone betokens the breaking of ourancient custom ... no longer will we bar the stranger from the Hills... and those who are with us now may go in peace, or stay in peace."
He paused, and a great sigh of relieved suspense rose from the throng.The four armed men left their position behind the two white men andmelted into the dense circle.
Terry gave the Major's arm a last ecstatic squeeze. "It's working outjust as we planned! I'll be back soon."
He raced through the trees toward Ohto's house, returning in a coupleof minutes to find Ohto still standing with bowed head before hispeople.
A rustle of whispers roused him, and he raised his silvered head tobehold the loveliness of his stolen foster-child. Summoned by Terry,Ahma had come out of the shadows of the trees and stood at the forestend of the lane made for Ohto's passage through the crowd.
The old man extended his hand toward her in compelling gesture and shewent to him with the agile swiftness of a half-wild thing. A moment helightly stroked the rippling mass of hair, then he turned to hispeople again.
"Ohto said that the Tribal Agong would ring for the marriage of thiswhite daughter of our tribe--but now--"
They followed his sadly expressive gaze to where the gong hung far outover the cliff, inaccessible to human touch.
"Daughter, it _will_ be rung for you ... somehow.... Ohto has said it.I hope to live to hear it rung ... when you have found him who is toshare your house--and after that, I do not care."
He paused again--lost in a patriarch's vague memories of other years.Retrieving his vagrant thoughts, he caught the frank message of theupturned face, a message which startled as it pleased him.
"Ah! You have found him, then? Let him step forth."
Ohto searched every brown face in the hushed circle, but none steppedforward.
Ahma slowly turned her head toward where the two white men stoodapart, her eyes fastened upon Major Bronner. Terry gently pushed himforward. Trembling, his tanned face bloodless, the Major advanced andtook her outstretched hand.
Ohto studied the Major, then turned to Terry. For a long moment hesearched the lad's strong face, a deep disappointment in his own,before he again faced the two before him.
"I had not thought of this. But it will do. It is as it shouldbe--white will be happier with white. But ... will she stay until Ohtojoins his fathers?"
The Major hesitated, then answered the sadly anxious question with anod. He had no voice.
"Then she is yours ... after you have found a way to ring the TribalAgong for her marriage. Ohto never spoke in vain. Ring the Agongfirst."
The Major's glance swept from Ahma to the lofty gong. His triumphantjoy gave way to deepest dejection. He saw no way to fulfil the chief'srequirement, and he turned despairingly to Terry, who had shoulderedthrough the crowd and stood beside him.
The Hillmen had accepted Ohto's interpretation unquestioningly. Theirchief had spoken. The unexpectedness of the new phase, the avowal oflove by the tribe's adopted daughter for one of the outlanders, hadappealed to the keen sense of the dramatic that is shared by allprimitive peoples. Their brown skins coppered by the rosy glow of thesetting sun, they stood in strained suspense awaiting the climax.
All but Pud-Pud. He jostled an avenue through the innermost ring ofHillmen and leaped out in front of Terry, brandishing a short blowtube he carried and laughing in shrill derision.
"Ya, white men! Now ring the Agong! Ring the Agong and get your woman!I saw! I watched! And I laughed because I knew the Agong would neverring again! Yeah! Now ring it!"
The Major was in no mood for finesse: with a vicious shove he sent thevindictive Pud-Pud sprawling, then turned to Terry, worriedly.
"What are we going to do?"
Terry shook his head, at a loss. This was a contingency he had notforeseen. He glanced penitently at the melancholy girl, at the old manwho waited, swept the circle of tense faces, then resumed his hopelesscontemplation of the gong overhead.
Swiftly Ahma broke the tableau. Dropping the Major's hand she dartedforward to where Pud-Pud had risen to his knees, her white footflashing up to dash from his lips the blow tube he leveled at Terry.The venomous dart sped aimlessly into the air and fell outside thering of Hillmen.
Pud-Pud's violation of the sanctity of council roused Ohto to a wrathterrible to see. All of the savagery, all of the unbridled fury of aprimitive, passionate nature mounted to his wrinkled face as hepointed to the culprit with a majestic gesture that summoned the fourarmed men. At a word they hustled the terror-stricken savage away toawait Ohto's judgment.
Ahma calmly returned to the Major's side and together they resumedtheir hopeless conte
mplation of the Agong. He peered up till his neckached.
"Terry," he whispered, "to ring it you have to strike that little knobin the center, don't you?"
"Yes."
Then inspiration shone in the Major's face. He eyed Terry covertly.
"Wish we had a rifle," he suggested.
Terry caught his meaning. He fingered his holster but shook his head."It can't be done, Major."
"Sure it can--sure _you_ can! I've seen you shoot!"
Terry shook his head but the excited Major insisted: "Try it. Restyour gun on my head. Sure you can do it--and think what it willmean--the Hills opened up for all time--think what it will mean to theGovernor--and to the Service!"
The hushed crowd stiffened as they saw the two white men draw back ahundred feet, wondered as to the character of the strange black thingthe smaller drew from his leather pocket. They watched intently,thinking to see sorcery wrought before their eyes.
Terry cocked the weapon and resting his wrist upon the tall Major'shead, sighted carefully. A thousand pairs of eyes focussed upon him.Could the slim white man ring the gong by pointing a magic finger?
The Major, braced for the shock of explosion, felt the iron wristtremble, grow limp and lift away. He wheeled around to find Terryshaking his head, uncertain, faltering. He slowly holstered the gun.
"Major, I keep thinking how I have deceived--this fine old man," hesaid.
The Major stared at him, then exploded: "By making this 'sign' thatsaved your life--and mine? Sus-marie-hosep! I've heard of those NewEngland consciences but--Sus-marie-hosep!"
Disgust, dismay, affection swept in succession across the Major'scountenance: affection held. He laid his hand upon Terry's shoulder ashe played his ace:
"Terry, I thought you had a date in Zamboanga on the twenty-sixth!"
The crowd then saw the white youth stiffen with swift decision, sawhim whirl to face the crag. For a moment he stood with eyes rivetedupon the Agong till the little knob swung toward him, then he bentslightly at the knees and his hand swept back with a swiftness thatseemed to bring the pistol leaping to meet the extended arm. It raisedto the darkening sky, and the Hills awoke to the resounding crash ofwhite man's weapons. Six times Terry shot, but only the first tworeports were heard, for the others were swallowed in the booming ofthe Agong.
The sound beat down deafeningly, seemed to enfold them bodily in itsmighty volume, blotting out all else. From the sounding board of cliffit smote upon their ears in thunderous, sustained, musical tone.Slowly, the note lessened in volume, deepened, and tumbled down invibrant waves that rolled on and on. The sonorous reverberations diedout, then surged again and again in ever fainter, ever deeper tones.
At last the air quieted, and nothing but the roaring in his earsremained to convince the Major that the vast sound had been reality."Jimmy!" he exploded. "What a noise--and what shooting!"
A whisper of awe rustled through the surrounding ranks. Ignorant offirearms, they thought the young American wielded some uncanny powerwith his black weapon. Already distinguished as the first white man toset his foot upon Apo, he was now regarded with a feeling akin toworship.
Ohto was silent, lost in a protracted, inscrutable study of Terry'sface. At last the old man turned on his heels to sweep the circle ofhis people for confirmation of his surmise. Satisfied, he raised hishand for silence.
"There has been worry ... doubt ... among you--who should take upOhto's burden when he lets it fall ... soon. You are entering newtimes, will meet new and strange things. To Ohto it seems best that heleave his people under the guidance of a young and strong and kindchief who knows all these strange things ... one who can lead yousafely into the new life. What say you, my people? Who shall sit inOhto's chair when he is gone?"
For a moment the multitude was silent as the significance of Ohto'squery sank into their slow minds, then a murmur of approval rose amongthem, swelled into a deafening shout of acclamation.
"The pale white man! The pale white man!"
Terry understood. Uncertain, he turned to the Major, but Ohtointerrupted by addressing him directly.
"You have heard. When Ohto leaves--and it can not be long--he leaveshis people in your hands. You will be patient, kindly, gentle, withthem. That Ohto knows ... it is written in your face."
As Terry slowly bowed his head slightly in acceptance of the trust,the delighted Hillmen stirred, whispered to each other. The hum ofvoices grew louder but was instantly hushed by the dramatic gesturewith which Ohto extended his arm toward a low cotton tree that stoodat the edge of the woods. The thousand eager heads turned almost asone.
Upon a slender leafless branch which extended at right angles from thetrunk of a _kapok_ tree two large gray wood pigeons had perched sideby side in the close communion of mated birds, heedless of the hostbelow them. Unafraid, tired, content with what the day had broughtthem in the lowlands, they were happy in safe return together to theirmountain home.
In the hush which followed recognition by the throng, the limoconsmoved closer to each other, wing brushed wing, sleepy lids loweredover soft eyes to shut out the crimson glory of the dying sun. Thenthe little throats throbbed as they voiced gratitude to their Creatorin gentle, low pitched notes, lilting with the joy of life, plaintivewith the brevity of its span.
The sweet song died with the day, and as dusk reached down in briefembrace of tropic earth, the birds winged side by side into thedarkening forest.
Peace settled upon the face of the old man who had made decisionvitally affecting the welfare of the people over whom he had ruled fortwo generations. The limocons had sung in the East. His fathers werepleased with him.
A shout of fierce joy burst from the Hillmen. Then the womensurrounded the dainty white girl and bore her off to prepare for thelong ceremony with which the Hill People give in marriage. And the twofriends walked through the woods, arm in arm, silent, profoundlyhumble.