The Adventures of Piang the Moro Jungle Boy | Page 7

his way easily among the gathering
shadows. Soon voices became distinguishable, and he heard tom-toms
beating the evening serenade. Dogs howled in response, women
chattered, boys quarreled. To Piang this represented the usual day'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's muscles
could compare with their lads'; girls to flaunt their charms; boys to
measure him with their eyes. Piang had no interest in anything but the
boys, and as soon as the dato condescended to greet him with the
customary salutation for guests, he was left in peace to join them 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 night silence
deepened, the village slept. Piang had asked for no shelter, and no
invitation had been extended, but he silently accepted the hospitality,
according to the strange Moro codes.
Slumber claimed the inhabitants of the barrio, but all around the jungle
woke to the night. Noxious blooms raised their heads to drink in the
deadly moisture; hungry pythons took up their silent vigil at water
holes; night prowlers slunk in the gloom to spring on the more
defenseless creatures, and over it all the inscrutable jungle kept watch,
passing silent judgment on man and beast, in this great scheme of life.

SECOND ADVENTURE
THE FLOATING ISLAND

Like a mirror framed in soft velvet green, the lake broke upon Piang. In
the still noon heat the motionless water scintillated and sparkled and
the powerful rays of the sun seemed to penetrate to the very bottom.
Dragon-flies and spiders skated merrily about, eluding the
ever-watchful fishes lying in wait amid forests of lacy seaweeds and
coral. Tall, stately palms, towering above their mates, scorned to seek
their reflections in the clear depths, but frivolous bamboo and
nipa-palms swayed gently out over the water, rustling and chattering
with delight at their mirrored images.
Piang slipped through the mouth of the creek and gazed in amazement
at the vast sheet of water. Stories of the lake and its wonderful floating
islands had lured him from the more direct route to Ganassi Peak, and
he eagerly searched for one of the curiosities. His eyes focused on a dot
of green far in the distance. It was moving, turning, and suddenly a
whole fleet of dancing, playful islands became distinct. Joyfully Piang
started in pursuit. He wanted to see one, to touch it. Swiftly he flew
through the water. As if detecting his purpose, the nomad islands
eluded him. As soon as he chose one to pursue, it flaunted its charms
the more and capered and dodged behind its fellows. Like a giant
may-pole, the largest island held several smaller ones in leash,
permitting them to revolve around it, interlacing vines and creepers that
were rooted on the mother isle. Monkeys and jungle creatures crept
fearlessly along these natural ropes, sporting from one island to another.
Hablar-birds and aigrets squabbled over bits of rice and wild fruits.
Piang caught sight of a civet-cat crouching in a tree on one island. It
had probably gone to sleep in that tree while the island was nosing the
mainland and had awakened to find itself adrift. Sometimes these
floating islands would be held to the shore for years, intertwining liana
(climbing plants of tropical forests) and bajuca (jungle rope), but
sooner or later some wild storm is sure to set them wandering again.
There were weird tales of early Dyak settlers. These Borneo pirates had
fled to Mindanao to escape justice, bringing many cruel and terrible
customs that were to take root and bear fruit among the tribes of the
sultan. A favorite pastime of the Dyaks had been to bind captives to a
stray island and lead it slowly and tantalizingly to the mammoth

waterfalls, shouting and dancing with glee as it plunged into the abyss.
The lake was like a fairy-land. Purple lotus flowers surrounded the boat.
Piang dipped his hands into the cool water, and pulled them up by long
slender roots; lily-pads offered their beauties and soon the banco was a
bower of fragrant and brilliant flowers. Playfully Piang caught at a vine,
floating in the wake of an island. The natural boat led him gently about,
twisting and circling back and forth. He laughed merrily. The islands
were too funny! They seemed almost human in their antics. Some had
regular routes, and, like mail boats touched the same spot again and
again, only to be hurried on as the current caught them. Others with
malicious intent strayed in the path of their more systematic brothers,
bumping and jarring them with obstinate regularity.
The joy of