“The source of power is faith!”
His proud little head went up; his brave eyes smiled:
“Have no fear, my people. Piang, the charm boy, will protect you.”
A startling phenomenon had terrified the barrio. Just at dusk, old Asin had been squatting in the doorway of his hut, dreamily watching Papita’s little white fawn munching mangos under the fatal tree, when suddenly he saw it rise, struggle, suspended in the air, then disappear. Its pathetic cry was heard once, high above their heads. Then there was silence. The aged populace had been too frightened to investigate and had hovered around the fire, afraid to venture beyond its circle of light. Asin had been despatched to notify the head of the tribe that Bal-Bal was hovering near.
All eyes turned toward the charm boy.
“La ilaha illa llahoe,” softly prayed Piang, scrutinizing the frowning jungle, as it closed in on all sides.
“Kali Pandapatan,” finally announced the boy, “it is given that we act as brave men. If it is Bal-Bal who has been swooping upon us, have no fear; he can come no more with Piang, the charm boy, prepared to meet him. If it is something else that is hovering near, we must go boldly forth and slay our enemy.”
A relieved sigh from the listeners greeted this speech.
“Bravely spoken, little brother,” said Kali Pandapatan.
Another boat load arrived from the sea, and when the nature of the calamity had been explained, all volunteered to aid in the search. Each man bearing a torch, they went in pairs, scattering through the jungle. At given intervals, Piang who remained in the barrio at the entreaty of the aged, was to respond to the clan call.