“Well, I’ll be dinged! This is the kid Lieutenant Lewis sent up to the lake! How in tarnation did he get to us from this direction?” The men silently exchanged glances, all remembering their fruitless attempts to make a trail over the Dos Hermanas. Forcing water between the parched lips, the corporal gently shook Piang. The boy opened his eyes and shuddered.
“You’re all right now, little ’un,” the corporal said, and although Piang did not understand the language, he responded to the kind tone with a weak smile. Slowly getting to his elbow, he motioned toward the garrison:
“Hombre!” (“Man!”) he muttered. It was the only Spanish word he knew, and the soldiers guessed that he wanted Lieutenant Lewis.
“Give him a lift, boys,” said the corporal and set the example by helping Piang to stand.
“Why, the boy’s story is incredible, Lewis. It is simply impossible that a gunboat could be at the bottom of Lake Lanao,” General Beech protested as he walked to and fro in front of his desk in the administration building.
“If you will search the records at headquarters, sir, I think you will find mention of three gunboats that were shipped to this island by the Spanish government and disappeared mysteriously on the eve of our occupancy.”
And so it turned out. Inquiries among the older natives of the barrio brought confirmation of the report, and weird tales of transporting the diminutive gunboats in sections over the mountain passes began to float about. Finally General Beech was convinced and gave the necessary orders to equip and send an investigating party to the lake. Piang was to be the guide.
The transport Seward carried the troops around to Iligan, and the struggle up the mountain trail to Lake Lanao began.
Sicto was the first to give warning of the approach. He came upon the party one morning as they were breaking camp near the Marie Christina falls and immediately dashed off to Marahui.