Commissioner Gumpertz had been building great hopes on the capture of Felizardo, arguing that, once the band of outlaws was destroyed, the destruction of the head-hunters, who had so nearly secured a trophy at the expense of Mr Joseph Gobbitt, would become a simple matter. Then, those hemp lands on the northern side of Felizardo’s mountains would acquire a commercial value, which meant that he himself would rake in a very considerable sum over the selling of them. Consequently, he was very greatly opposed to the principle of leaving Felizardo alone. “There is a way,” he said, in answer to the Governor-General’s question. “We should offer a large reward for the old brigand’s head, say five thousand dollars, gold. We know that Commissioner Furber’s department managed to bribe two of the band to give information; and a big reward like this should soon bring in the scoundrel’s head. It is far cheaper than expeditions.”
They discussed the matter, not at very great length, and the result of their discussions was seen the following morning, when bills were posted in Manila itself offering five thousand dollars, United States currency, for the head of Felizardo, the outlaw of the mountains; and other copies of that proclamation were sent to Igut, and Catarman, and Silang, though at the latter place they went straight on to the fire.
The Army, seeing the bills, shook its head. “It’s properly low down,” it said—“a pitiful confession of weakness. As if there wasn’t enough treachery already, without making it into a profitable trade!”
Commissioner Furber, interviewed by the Press on the subject, declined to make any statement. “I have nothing to say,” he answered to the enquiries. “The proclamation does not emanate from my department …. No, I have no opinion to offer.”
The change in the Commissioner’s views had, perhaps, been too sudden to last long. The shock of the meeting with Felizardo, the contact with a personality infinitely stronger than his own, the striking contrast between the old outlaw and the servile, lying mestizos of Manila, could not fail to leave some permanent result behind, some readjustment of his ideas on the native question; whilst the discovery of how he had been deceived and misled as to Felizardo’s character and the strength of his band, with the consequent waste of money and lives, was always a very bitter memory to him, as the mestizos found to their cost. On the other hand, the public saw little outward signs of change; he was too deeply, and it must be said, sincerely, committed to the Party and its policy, to make any open renunciations, and it was only in the higher official circles, and in the councils of the insurrecto leaders, that they realised how great an effect the interview with Felizardo had produced on Commissioner Furber. Basil Hayle, however, perceived it on the occasion of his next interview with his official chief, and wrote of it to Mrs Bush, who replied:—
“I knew when he came back from Katubig that time, after he had met the old chief, that he was a different man.”
Weeks passed without any news of Felizardo; and the Commission was beginning to fear that its offer for his head had been made in vain, when, in some mysterious way, rumours began to float round concerning the breaking-up of the band. The old man had grown so suspicious, it was said, that the others would stand him no longer, and now he was practically alone. The hopes of his enemies rose high at the news, which was confirmed a few days later by the announcement that overtures for pardon had actually been made by the mutineers.
“It is the beginning of the end,” Commissioner Gumpertz said to his secretary, William P. Hart. “When Felizardo is finished with, we can get the head-hunters cleared out, and then sell that hemp land. It’ll be easy as falling off a log then.”
It was a week after these words were spoken that two natives, ordinary tao by their appearance, came in with a large native basket, made their way to the Police headquarters, and asked for the captain.
“Well, what is it?” the latter demanded.