The dismayed villagers poured out into the street, venting their frenzied fear by kicking the dead fanatic. Captain Hornbecker, a round-faced officer, arrived with his soldiers. As the chauffeur had emerged from his hiding place in the brush, the Governor turned matters over to the captain and the four drove on into Zamboanga. All had been sickened by the horror of the swift tragedy.
They stopped at Bronner's house to get Terry's bag, then drove him to the wharf. The Francesca was about to cast off, her dim-lit decks loud with the confusion of misdirected effort.
Terry sent Matak aboard, thanked the three warmly for their kindness to him; after a moment of hesitation he added something that was drowned in a sudden rumble of winch. Two waiting sailors threw off the hawser in response to a shouted signal from the bridge. The three Americans remained at the end of the pier till after Terry had mounted to the deck and the boat swung out into the current.
As they walked along the dark pier the Governor asked: "What was that he was saying? I did not quite catch it."
"I heard only part of it," answered Bronner. "It was something about how queer religions may be—he was thinking of the juramentado."
Wade spoke: "Did you notice how hard the affair got him? Of course it was a pretty stiff sight."
"It wasn't that," said the Major, slowly. "From something he said to me to-day I know that he has had a horror of some day being compelled to kill a man—and the day came. I'm very sorry I didn't stop that Moro devil—yet I hit him three times."
The Governor walked the short distance to his residence. Wade dropped the Major at his bungalow, and sat oblivious to the Major's outstretched hand, musing.
"Major," he said finally, "Matak's selecting Terry for his master—queer, isn't it?"
"Huh!" growled the Major, "I would go with him myself—anywhere!"