It was nearly evening when Piang beached his banco and took up thetrail to the village where he was to spend his first night. Confidentlyhe trotted through the jungle, picking his way easily among thegathering shadows. Soon voices became distinguishable, and he heardtom-toms beating the evening serenade. Dogs howled in response,women chattered, boys quarreled. To Piang this represented the usualday's peaceful ending.
As he trotted into the clearing and paused before the hut of the dato,the curious crowded around him: mothers to see if the stranger'smuscles could compare with their lads'; girls to flaunt their charms;boys to measure him with their eyes. Piang had no interest in anythingbut the boys, and as soon as the dato condescended to greet him withthe customary salutation for guests, he was left in peace to jointhem at their interrupted game of pelota.
Twilight comes quickly in the tropics. When darkness had fallen,each family was squatting beside its rice pot, and as the nightsilence deepened, the village slept. Piang had asked for no shelter,and no invitation had been extended, but he silently accepted thehospitality, according to the strange Moro codes.
Slumber claimed the inhabitants of the barrio, but all around thejungle woke to the night. Noxious blooms raised their heads to drinkin the deadly moisture; hungry pythons took up their silent vigilat water holes; night prowlers slunk in the gloom to spring on themore defenseless creatures, and over it all the inscrutable junglekept watch, passing silent judgment on man and beast, in this greatscheme of life.