Lewis realized it was no trifling matter to meet this scoundrel alone in the jungle, far from reinforcements. His message was simple, short, and impressive:
“Ask him why the devil he allowed those juramentados to invade my camp?”
With much ceremony Piang addressed the sultan, bowing and scraping before him. The low, ugly growls in response made Lewis furious, but he refrained from showing his anger. The sultan’s reply amazed him.
He expressed his regrets indifferently, that the camp had been disturbed. But (he threw up his hands to indicate his helplessness) who could stop the sacred juramentado? Not he, powerful sultan that he was. To-day was a feast of the Mohammedans. To-day was a most holy day, and, of course, the sultan could not be held responsible if some of his men had become excited. True, many good Americans had met their death in this way; it was most unfortunate, but how could it be stopped? Did the Christians not have their Christmas, and did they not kill turkeys and cut trees? The Moros are a fierce people and celebrate their feast days in a more violent manner.
Poor Lewis! Thoroughly exasperated, he tried to argue through Piang, but finding it hopeless, he told the boy to finish Kali Pandapatan’s business with the sultan as quickly as possible.
Discouraged, he started back through the jungle, wondering how many more fanatics had broken loose during his absence. The sultan was deliberately picking the troops off, a few at a time, always insisting that he was at peace with the Americans. The war department, many miles away, was unable to understand the situation. Orders required that the Moro receive humane treatment, and forbade any drastic measures being taken against the juramentados, saying time would cure it. It was outrageous, and intelligent men were being made fools of by the sultan, who understood the state of affairs perfectly.
The jungle began to irritate Lewis; it was a constant fight. The terrible heat, the tenacity of the vines and undergrowth seemed directed toward him personally, as he stumbled and fought his way along. How impossible to deal with the crafty sultan according to Christian standards! He should be given treatment that would bring him to terms quickly, and Lewis longed to get a chance at him.
Suddenly an idea flashed into his head. He hurried Piang, bidding him find a shorter cut home, as night was gathering.
“Sergeant Greer, come to my tent immediately,” ordered the lieutenant when he had looked over the camp and found everything safe.
“Allow no one to enter, orderly,” he said and closed the flaps.