“Will the Señor give me back the book to carry home with me?”
“I don’t know. I’ll see later about that.”
“It was an ‘anting-anting.’ The strongest we ever knew. The man who had it was a chief. When he was dead I wanted it.”
“If this was such a powerful charm why was the man killed who had it on. Why didn’t it save him?”
The Tagalog was silent.
“Come. Tell me that, and you may go.”
“And have the book?”
“Yes; and have the book.”
“It is a very great ‘anting-anting.’ It never fails in its time. The man who made it, a famous wise man, very many years ago, watched one whole month for the secrets which the stars told him to write in it; but the last night, the night of the full moon, he fell asleep, and on that one day and night of the month the ‘anting-anting’ has no good in it for the man who wears it. Else the chief would not be dead. You made the attack, that day. Our people never would.”
“Lieutenant Smith to see you, sir,” an orderly announced.