His face was grim as he snapped: "Terry, watch him! And if he makes a single move—smash him! Make no false starts, do not arrest him unless you are sure that your evidence will convict in the courts. Give him plenty of rope—but if he breaks loose ... smash him hard! Understand?"
Terry nodded quietly, but something in his competent face contented his chief. He repeated his warning against premature action:
"Be sure you can get him before you move—he is slippery and has friends in high native circles. We do not want to be turned down in the courts at this stage of the game, and it may be he intends to play the game square—plant hemp, for instance. But if he wants a showdown—smash him good and plenty!"
He briefly reviewed the substance of his instructions: "You can see that your work is going to call for a good deal of tact and patience: patience with the angry planters, with the wild people. Everybody is scared and jumpy down there just now, and we want to restore their confidence."
Terry had listened attentively throughout the interview, speaking only to answer questions. He broke the silence which followed:
"Major, I have heard a great deal about the Hill People of Davao: will I be near them?"
The Major eyed him queerly for a moment before answering: "About thirty miles as the bird flies," he said, "but about a million to all intents and purposes! No living man has been among them—those who have tried have left their bones rotting in the dark forest. They kill all who attempt to reach them, expeditions in force find nothing as the Hillmen simply fade away before their approach.
"I don't want you to attempt to go among them—in fact I expressly forbid it, as it means certain death. But some day we hope to open the Hills up, to win among them: it is one of the Governor's cherished ambitions. So learn what you can about them from the old Bogobos who live in the foothills, and report any interesting traditions you may hear. Pieced together, the tales may make a helpful contribution—may help solve the riddle of how to get to them peaceably. Not that you or I are likely to live long enough to see it done—they are too confounded wild, too inaccessible behind their jungled hills."
He shrugged his broad shoulders in eloquent dismissal of a vain hope, and rose: "I want you to meet the Governor. I'll see if we can get to him yet."
He strode out of the office, returning immediately to inform Terry that the Governor was closeted with the two Moro datos whom he had fetched to the capitol by launch.