many things which happen in the jungle can be kept secret; but a matter like the burying of dolores in the graveyard of san polycarpio must become known. they heard of it in manila the following day, from native sources, and the press made out of it a great story, which was also perfectly inaccurate, as is usually the case when the information comes through mestizos, people to whom truth is a thing either hateful or unknown.
felizardo had descended on san polycarpio with the whole of his band; he had slain the local police, and confined the inhabitants to their houses; had taken the parish priest from his bed, and compelled him, at the point of the bolo, to read the burial service; then he had hanged the teniente of san polycarpio over the grave, and after that had departed, swearing to return and burn the village itself, if any one dared to interfere with the body [239]of his wife—such was the gist of the first account circulated round manila.
the insurrecto party, which had sorrowed greatly over the suspension of operations against felizardo, and over commissioner furber’s new attitude of suspicion, held a special meeting to discuss the situation, seeing a chance of forcing on a fresh campaign against the chief of the mountains, who was such a deadly enemy of the sovereign people. it was even suggested that the teniente of san polycarpio should actually be hanged, in order to give an air of reality to the whole story. unfortunately, however, the ex-general of the army of liberty, who made the proposal, forgot, or did not know, that the man sitting opposite to him happened to be a brother to that same teniente. they got the knife away from the teniente’s brother before any serious harm was done; but, none the less, the meeting broke up in disorder, without having arrived at any definite decision.
the herald and the record seized on the story eagerly. copy was short that day, and this news seemed to offer such splendid opportunities in the way of headlines; but clancy of the star was suspicious, and would not use it without confirmation. “get a launch and go across to calocan,” he said to his most reliable reporter. “you may induce basil hayle to talk. he is sure to know all about it, in fact there’s a rumour that he himself was at the [240]burial. if he won’t tell you anything, which is very probable, go on to san polycarpio itself, and see the priest. i would sooner have the right story to-morrow than use any of this rubbish to-day.”
the news caused a good deal of commotion in official circles. the governor-general looked worried, thinking of the hopeless state into which the finances had got—as was inevitable, considering the class of man which the party was sending out—and wondering whether it would now be necessary to resume those ruinously expensive expeditions against the outlaws, in which case some of the officials would have to be content with their bare salaries, as there would be nothing else left to divide; and that, of course, would mean trouble, and complaints to the party managers. already, commissioner gumpertz was showing a nasty spirit, as was also commissioner johnson, and it had been necessary to give them, or rather their nominees, a contract for a long and utterly useless road to the hills, in order to keep them quiet. moreover, as that road had to be paid for by loan, the press had got early information of it, and had said some things concerning the contract which were very unpleasant, because perfectly true. now, if, as was rumoured, felizardo was actually out on the warpath himself, there would be fresh expenses, fresh anxieties about money matters. [241]
commissioner gumpertz, on the other hand, having nothing to do with the finances, except as regarded the share of them which he himself got, was by no means displeased to hear of felizardo’s supposed raid. he had never given up hope of being able ultimately to sell that hemp land on the northern side of the outlaw’s mountains; and if he could revive the campaign against the old chief, he felt certain in his own mind that this time it would be carried through to the end, even though the president had to order the army to assist. incidentally, too, the reopening of hostilities would be deadly to the prestige of commissioner furber, and might possibly lead to his resignation, in which case mr gumpertz was in hopes that the vacant post would be filled by a certain ex-partner of his own, a most admirable arrangement. as a result of these views, the commissioner of lands and registration was very ready to be interviewed by the press on the subject of felizardo’s latest exploit, and expressed his opinions most forcibly. he had always been opposed to the new policy of leaving this brigand alone, he said; and this outrage at san polycarpio went to prove that he had been right. it would be necessary now to resume operations on a larger scale than ever. the regular army would have to be called upon to provide troops, its chiefs being shown plainly that they were, after all, merely the servants of the state, and that it [242]was not for them to say whether they would, or would not, assist the civil government. the commission must be supreme. no individual member of it must be allowed to dictate to his colleagues, and no murderer and outlaw, like felizardo, must be allowed to remain in a state of insolent independence. the present state of affairs was an insult to the flag, a violation of all the great principles for which the party stood.
true, the herald headed its report of the interview, “commissioner on the high horse,” “gumpertz gets on the great gee-gee,” and thereby spoilt a good deal of the effect; but still the commissioner for lands and registration had the satisfaction of knowing that he had got in the first blows both at his own colleague and at felizardo. lower down on the same page the herald announced that mr furber declined to be interviewed. “the commissioner looked cross,” it stated, for once telling the crude truth; but it did not dare to reproduce the remarks which a certain highly-placed army officer had made to its reporter concerning mr gumpertz and his views.
still, enough was published that day to set all manila talking, and when, on the following morning, a launch came in from igut, bringing captain bush’s report of the affair, the sensation was even greater; for bush, having conveniently forgotten the good turn basil hayle had once [243]done him in suppressing all mention of his absence from the great fight in the plaza of igut, now told the story of how the constabulary officer had been present at the burial of dolores, actually assisting felizardo, instead of endeavouring to arrest him. it was a venomous, damning report, full of the jealousy which the man who had been a soldier felt of the man who would always be a soldier, and, more important than that, of the jealousy which the man who had made mrs bush’s life utterly miserable felt of the man who could have made her happy. true, some of the details given in the first rumours, such as the hanging of the teniente and the holding up of the village, were not mentioned in the scout officer’s version; but these omissions were hardly noticed in view of the intensely interesting character of the rest.
“they will certainly give hayle the sack, even if they do not bring him to trial,” was the general opinion of manila men who, in most cases, added their conviction that captain bush was a low-down cur, for, despite basil’s reticence, it had long since leaked out unofficially that the scout officer had been missing on the occasion of the insurrecto attack, and had only appeared after the killing was finished. moreover, they knew his character pretty well in manila, and did not admire it greatly.
bush himself had acted deliberately in the matter. he intended to ruin basil hayle’s [244]career if possible, and the report had been the result of the joint efforts of the supervisor, the school teacher, and himself. its compilation had entailed the consumption of a good deal of spirits, but when it had been finished, and sent down to the skipper of the waiting launch, they all felt pleased with themselves, for the supervisor and the school teacher hated the man who had saved their lives from juan vagas and his band almost as bitterly as did the scout officer, remembering what he had once said concerning white men and mestizos. and then the school teacher said, jerking his head in the direction of the lower end of the town: “shall we go and tell them? they’ll be mighty pleased to hear it.”
but bush got up, a little unsteadily, perhaps. “no; that’ll do by and by. i’m going to tell my wife first;” which seemed to the others such a good idea that they laughed immoderately, and insisted that he should have another drink first.
“you’ll need it, old man,” the supervisor said; and the treasurer, who came in at that moment, and had the matter explained to him, agreed.
mrs bush listened to her husband in absolute silence, in fact so still did she sit that he finished lamely, almost apologetically: “it was my duty to report it,” he said.
then her anger blazed out, and he cowered before it. “oh, you coward! your duty! [245]did he feel it his duty to report you when he saved the town you were supposed to be defending, when he saved your wife’s honour at the hands of those brown fiends? did he go into manila and tell where you had been that night, and why you were the last man on the scene? to think i should have married you, when there are so many real men in the world! oh, go away, and never dare to speak to me again. go to the friends who are worthy of you—and to the woman you have put in my place, the coloured woman.”
possibly, for the first time, bush realised something of the deadly insult he had put on his wife, for he tried to defend himself in a guilty man’s way, with a counter-charge.
“you are in love with hayle. that’s what makes you so mad,” he growled.
she turned on him in superb scorn. “and if i am, have you any right to complain? have you any right to speak to a white woman—you cur!” and then, in his rage, he struck her twice on the mouth. she staggered back and sank into a chair, whilst he went out, with an attempt at a swagger, forgetting that the natives in the plaza—there were three sitting in the shade of the belfry—could have seen all that had occurred on the balcony.
when he rejoined his friends in the spirit shop, they noticed that he was flushed and his hand was a little shaky. “i told her, and she [246]didn’t like it,” he said briefly. the school teacher sniggered, whereupon bush turned on him savagely. “confound you, what are you laughing at?”
the others exchanged glances, and hastened to start some entirely fresh topic of conversation. obviously, bush had one of his bad fits coming on, and they knew by experience how nasty he could be. more than once, they had feared that he was going to quarrel with them finally, which might have resulted in his making peace with his wife, in which case many privileges they now enjoyed would have been curtailed, if not actually withdrawn. so they endeavoured to smooth him down, and after a while succeeded in their aim.
mrs bush did not cry, at least not at first. instead, she went to her room, and, after dabbing a little blood off her mouth, examined her lip to see how badly it was cut, doing it all very quietly, as though she were dazed. then she sat down to think it out, right from the beginning.
in a way, she blamed herself. she had known when she married john bush that the curse of drink was in his family; but she had been very young then; she had believed she loved him; and believed, too, that she could keep him straight. but she had found out her mistake as soon as she rejoined him in manila after the war. he was a marked man even then, in [247]the service, as the old general had told her very gently; and, what was even worse, finding himself shunned by his brother-officers, he had got into the hands of the baser class of civil officials, who had not the slightest compunction about separating him from his wife when it suited their ends to do so.
mrs bush had always made excuses for him to herself, so long as it was only a case of that miserable hereditary tendency. she would get him back to the states before long, and then she would be able to reassert her influence over him; but when, through the introduction of the school teacher, the other woman came on the scene, there, in igut itself, practically under her own eyes, she realised that any further efforts of hers would be useless; the end of their married life had come; although, until he came to boast to her that he had ruined basil hayle’s career, no mention of that other woman had passed her lips. even now, she was sorry she had demeaned herself by having spoken as she had done. probably, he would glory in the knowledge of how sorely he had wounded her pride.
as for the blows on her mouth, they seemed, somehow, to be matters of secondary consideration; in fact, when she came to think of them, she was almost glad he had struck her. relations between them were now on a definite basis, the most definite basis of all, for no [248]reconciliation was possible. there would be no more need to keep up appearances, to meet him, if not as a husband or lover, at least on terms of politeness. that stage had been passed, as she told herself with a sigh of relief.
but when she thought of her own future movements the prospect was far less satisfactory. she could see no way out of her difficulties. she had not even the money to take her back to the united states; and even if, as was probable, the general were to grant her free transportation, she had no relatives who would give her a home. two aunts and half a dozen cousins were the only members of her family she knew, and with these she had never been on good terms. she had very few acquaintances in manila, having been in the city but a few weeks; in fact, the only friend she had, the only real friend, was basil hayle, and to him she could not appeal, even though, in her own mind, she was certain that his chivalry would prevent him from thinking any evil. it was because she loved him, because she was not sure of herself, that she could not ask him for aid.
she had promised to write to him “if necessary,” and now, when a crisis which neither of them had foreseen had come, she could not keep her promise.
there was one thing she could do, however, one thing she must do—write and warn him [249]concerning her husband’s report. she glanced out towards the harbour. the launch had already gone, but the sea was like a mill-pond, and it would not take a canoe long to reach calocan.
she sat down and wrote hurriedly, in a tone very different from that of her ordinary letters to basil, for she was hot at the thought of how her husband was repaying the other man’s services. the result was that, quite unconsciously, she betrayed her feelings to the man she loved, and showed him that the breach between her husband and herself was now wider than ever, so wide that it could never be crossed. but she did not say a word of his coming to igut, nor hint at the terrible problem of her future which now had to be faced.
still, none the less, basil understood, and cursed the fate which made it impossible for him to offer assistance, at any rate at the moment. he was by no means a poor man, even though he might be serving as an officer in the philippines constabulary, and he had but scant regard for most conventions. on the other hand, he had the very greatest regard for mrs bush’s feelings, and he realised, instinctively, that an offer from him might seem almost an insult, a suggestion that she should put herself under his protection. when he could see her it would be different, but that was also an impossibility for the time being, [250]especially as he felt certain he would be summoned to manila to explain the part he had played in the cemetery at san polycarpio.
for the greater part of the night, basil sat, smoking innumerable cigarettes, and conceiving, and then rejecting, innumerable plans. in the end he wrote two letters, one to mrs bush and one to old don juan ramirez. the former was the most difficult he had ever attempted; he wanted to say so much, and dared to say so little, the result being that, as in her case, he unconsciously told everything, which was, of course, extremely wrong, and must be attributed to the influence of the law of the bolo.
to don juan he also told a great deal, this time with intention, and, perhaps for that very reason, did not tell it well; although, as he had foreseen, the old spaniard knew most of it already, and was deeply touched by the confidence. basil wanted to learn exactly how matters stood, what had occurred recently, how mrs bush looked, where bush spent his time and took his meals—a whole host of questions, which caused don juan to knit his brows, and to wonder how many he dare answer.
“if i tell him the whole truth, he will certainly come and kill the scout officer, which would be very foolish.” the spaniard sighed—he had heard what those natives who were sitting in the shadow of the belfry had seen occur on the balcony—“so i will tell him [251]part, and leave the rest to fate. who knows? matters may adjust themselves.”
so he wrote discreetly, making the best of things, and after he had sent the letter, called on mrs bush and tried to comfort her, speaking as one who was almost old enough to be her grandfather, and was also a gentleman of spain, could speak; but when he came to mention basil hayle he realised that this was a matter in which words were not of much avail, for, possibly, again, because of that most demoralising law of the bolo, mrs bush was losing all sense of the sanctity of conventions. still, the visit was not a waste of time, for, when he took his leave, she knew that she had yet another very sincere friend, one who was always close at hand.
don juan’s letter followed basil to manila, whither he had been summoned to give an explanation of his doings on the night felizardo buried his wife. basil smiled grimly as he opened the envelope. he had been expecting something of the kind from the outset, and he was quite ready to face the trouble. when father doyle came in later that evening, basil tossed the paper across to him. “what do you think of that, father?” he asked.
the priest’s face grew grave. “i am sorry. it may be unpleasant for you. and you need not have gone. i was there because it was my duty; but you——”
basil cut him short. “it was my duty, too. [252]but for felizardo, i do not suppose i should be here now. they would have killed me that day we hanged juan vagas, and—and there were other things as well.”
“perhaps you are right. it does not follow that because you seem indiscreet you are wrong,” father doyle answered, speaking slowly. “they say, too, that i was indiscreet—and unpatriotic.”
the other looked up quickly. “who says so? the church?”
father doyle shook his head. “no—the church understands, of course. but commissioner gumpertz says i was wrong,” and he smiled, possibly because he was thinking that the censure of the head of the department of lands and registration was but a small matter when one had the approval of the church, as mr gumpertz himself presently found to his cost, when, on his own authority, he made a statement to the press that the commission would take steps against father doyle.
the following afternoon basil called on commissioner furber, expecting a stormy interview, but found himself mistaken. the commissioner was cold and severely official in manner, though, as the visitor was quick to note, there was none of that personal hostility which had marked their former meetings.
“i sent for you at the request of the commission,” mr furber said. “this is not a departmental matter, or, rather, they will not [253]have it treated as one. therefore, i can say nothing about it yet. possibly, they may call you before them, or they may communicate with you by letter at your hotel.”
basil got up to take his leave, but, as he reached the door, the commissioner called him back. “captain hayle,” he said a little haltingly. “we have not agreed too well in the past; and i will admit that in some things i have been wrong, or unjust. but this is not my doing. i, also, have met felizardo, and—and i understand why you went to san polycarpio that night.”
in the end, they did not summon basil before the commission, for what seemed to them a good and sufficient reason. clancy of the star had cabled the story of the funeral at san polycarpio to a certain great newspaper in new york, and the editor of that paper had decided forthwith to make captain hayle the hero of the hour. consequently, as even commissioner gumpertz had to acknowledge, it would have been a most injudicious thing to take any steps against the constabulary officer; in fact, before the matter had come up again for discussion, there had arrived peremptory cables from washington ordering them to leave basil hayle alone, not because washington admired the conduct of the latter, but because, as ever, washington’s main consideration was the question of the votes it might lose at the next election. [254]
still, basil was not allowed to go scot-free. the governor-general and commissioner gumpertz saw to that; the former because he was galled at the interference from washington; the latter because it was captain hayle who had rescued mr joseph gobbitt, and so allowed possible buyers to know that there were head-hunters living on that most desirable tract of hemp land to the north of felizardo’s mountains. had mr gobbitt’s head been permitted to hang from the ridge pole of a shack, beside that of albert dunk, no one in manila would have known his fate, and the succession of would-be purchasers, willing to deposit five or six thousand dollars each, might have remained unbroken, greatly to the profit both of himself and of the head-hunters.
the result of the feeling against basil was that he could not obtain permission to return to his post. day after day went by, and still he was detained on futile excuses, until he began to realise that they did not intend him to go back to duty at calocan. moreover, there had been no further word out of igut, either from mrs bush or from don juan, and the silence was driving him mad. at last, in sheer despair, he called on commissioner furber. that official looked at him curiously.
“you don’t know why they dropped all idea of open proceedings against you?” he asked. “well, it is because they have made a hero of [255]you in the states,” and the flicker of a smile crossed his face. “it wouldn’t have been wise, you see. as regards the future, i may as well tell you plainly. you are a marked man, and your chances in the service are nil. i have done what i can for you, because i believe i owe you some reparation; but i must not strain things too far; in the end, that would benefit neither of us. i may tell you that if you remain in the service you will be sent to one of the outlying islands, and that, i believe”—he spoke meaningfully—“would not suit you. moreover, one is apt to meet with accidents in those places, as perhaps one of my colleagues, mr gumpertz, could tell you. speaking unofficially—in fact you must regard all this as unofficial—i should advise you to resign. it would be wiser—and safer.”
basil drummed on the table with his fingers. at last, “yes,” he said slowly, “i think you are right. can i do it now? i suppose it will be to you that i hand my resignation?”
so captain hayle resigned, and his resignation was accepted immediately, and then he went back with his successor to hand over the government property in his charge, and to bid farewell to his plucky little men, who had fought under him on felizardo’s mountain, followed him in the forced march over the pass, carried out the great killing in the plaza at igut, and stood firm when the mob at calocan threatened to [256]rescue juan vagas from the gallows. he had to do those two things, and after doing them he would be a free man again, free to go to igut if he wished, or rather if he thought it wise so to do, for his wish was always to be there.
it was not an easy thing to say good-bye to his men, after all. like so many of their kind, they had come to regard themselves as being in his personal service; the state was a thing of which they knew nothing, towards which they felt no kind of loyalty; consequently, his departure filled them with absolute consternation; and though his successor was as lax and easy-going as the most tired filipino could wish an officer to be, half his company was missing before the end of a fortnight, greatly to his disgust. but when he reported the fact to commissioner furber, the latter took it very quietly. “they were hayle’s men,” he said. “and, from the first, i was doubtful whether they would stay with any one else. he was a man of rather an uncommon type;” then, as if thinking he had said too much, he went on curtly. “let them go. don’t worry to fetch them back, so long as they’ve taken no carbines. i will send you some recruits to take their places.”
basil hayle did not actually break down after he had bidden farewell to his men, but he went so near to it that he would not trust [257]himself to accept his successor’s offer, and stay the night in the barracks.
“no,” he said. “i’ve got through with it now, and it will only reopen the sore if i stay here. i will go across to father doyle’s.”
the new officer, who had never got down to crude things, such as the fight on felizardo’s mountain, or the march over the pass, looked at him in astonishment.
“i should have thought you would have been glad enough to be clear of the outfit. i know if i could afford to resign i should go to-morrow. there’s not much pleasure or glory in commanding a company of savages, who will probably bolt at the first shot and leave you to be boloed.”
basil shrugged his shoulders, and then crossed the plaza to father doyle’s house, where he took off his uniform for the last time, presently coming down in civilian clothes.
“it’s over now,” he said briefly, as he selected a cigar from his host’s box.
father doyle nodded. “when i first met you i knew it must come to this before long. there was never room for you in the service. what are you going to do now?”
basil stared out across the bay towards felizardo’s mountains. “i am not quite sure yet,” he answered slowly. “but i think—i think i shall go to igut first.”
the priest had been expecting that answer, [258]and had given much thought to the question of how basil’s going was to be prevented. he had conceived several good schemes for delaying him; but now that it had come to the point, none of them seemed likely to be of the slightest avail. it was not an easy matter in which to interfere, especially as basil, though perhaps his closest friend, was not one of his flock. so finally he said nothing about it, trusting that by the morning something might occur to make his intervention possible.
“i should like to see felizardo again,” basil went on: “it is curious how he and i have come into one another’s lives,” and then, suddenly, he began to tell the other man the whole story, beginning with the fight on the slope of the volcano, when he surprised the outpost and captured felizardo’s daughter, and carrying it down to the time when father doyle himself came into it; only, he omitted all mention of mrs bush, though he did not gloss over the ways of bush himself; and both what he left out, and what he said, made the priest more than ever anxious to stop him from going to igut.
the sun was just setting when he finished, and a dozen or so tao passed the house on their way up from the beach; then, following them, came two strange natives, one of whom was carrying a heavy basket. a moment later, “they are coming here. they look [259]as if they wanted you, hayle,” the priest said.
they came on to the veranda of the house, took off their hats, then the elder of them presented a letter to basil. “from the senor felizardo,” he said.
basil opened it, wondering; then, as he read, the wonder changed to utter astonishment, for it ran:—
“the senor felizardo sends his compliments to the captain of the constabulary, who, as he hears, will no longer be his foe in the field, but can now be his friend in all things. that is good. but he hears with grief that the captain will be leaving the islands; and that is bad. therefore, felizardo hastens to pay his debts. once, many months ago, the captain returned to him his daughter, whom, next to his wife, he loved best of all things in this world; and felizardo promised then to repay the good deed. now he sends, in this basket, the thing the captain most desires to have.”
captain hayle handed the note to the priest, then he turned to the messengers. “open the basket,” he said.
but they shook their heads. “not here on the balcony, where the tao can see. it should be taken inside the house, senor.”
they set it on a table, and then they withdrew, whilst basil was undoing the cords, which held down the lid. first he came on a layer of leaves, which he threw on the floor, then he raised a white linen cloth, and sprang back with a cry of horror; for there, livid and [260]ghastly, was the head of john bush, late of the philippine scouts. a few minutes later, when he went to look for the messengers, they were gone, although he could see a canoe with two men in it being paddled in leisurely fashion across the bay.
basil took the ghastly trophy to an outhouse, thinking as he went, “the head-hunters would treasure this,” for there was not a spark of pity in his mind, even though he had yet to hear of those two blows which mrs bush had received on the mouth; then he went back to the veranda where father doyle was waiting.
“it served him right,” he said curtly; and, after a pause, he added: “i was going to kill him myself. felizardo says the only law that counts is the law of the bolo, and he is right.”
father doyle did not reply, having no answer ready, and knowing, in his own heart, that what had happened was for the best.
“i must go to igut,” basil spoke suddenly; and now the priest nodded in approval.
“yes, you should go first thing in the morning. she will need you.”
but that was not basil’s meaning. “i shall go to-night,” he said. “and if the tao will not take me across in a canoe some of my men—some of my old company, i mean—will do it.”
the tao refused, fearing the dark, and not [261]loving him on account of the hanging of juan vagas; but when, after obtaining the permission of his successor, he asked for four men to paddle and one to steer, every member of the company stepped forward to volunteer. he selected the old serjeant, and four of those who had been with him on the mountain-side when felizardo’s bolomen killed three quarters of his force; and they started out through the night to paddle to igut.
after a while, he turned to the serjeant, who was steering. “the captain of the scouts at igut has been killed,” he said.
the serjeant nodded. “i know, senor. i heard the news an hour ago. i was expecting it,” he added calmly.
basil looked at him in astonishment. “you were expecting it? why?”
the little man smiled meaningfully. “just after they buried the wife of felizardo, over there in san polycarpio, captain bush struck his wife twice on the mouth. they were on the balcony, and down in the plaza, sitting in the shadow of the belfry, were three of felizardo’s men, who saw it all. hearing that, and knowing how felizardo had loved his own wife, dolores—did he not take to the hills for her sake?—i knew that captain bush must die by the bolo.”
basil clenched his hands. so he had struck her, in the sight of natives, too! and she had [262]never given him a hint of it, nor had don juan ramirez. then, very reverently, he thanked god that he had not known; for, had he heard of it before, he would assuredly have shot captain bush like a dog; and that, as he realised now, would have made matters infinitely worse.
the night seemed very beautiful as they paddled across the bay. just before they came to the entrance of igut harbour, the moon rose from behind felizardo’s mountains, and basil found himself wondering how he could ever have regarded the range as a place of horror and death, in which you set foot at the risk of your life. surely all that must have been an evil dream.
igut was asleep when he landed there, and no light was showing in mrs bush’s house; but old don juan was still sitting up. “i thought you might come,” the spaniard said. “two men, who landed a couple of hours ago, said they had seen you, and you had heard the news.”
but basil wanted to hear one thing first. “how is she?” he demanded.
“they say she is better now, although the shock was great. it was i who had to break the news to her?…. they killed him down at the lower end of the town, outside the mestizo’s house. we suppose it was the head-hunters, for we never found the head.”
“i have the head, at calocan,” basil said and told him of felizardo’s letter. [263]
before they went to bed that night, they had arranged the matter. amongst white men, basil and father doyle and don juan ramirez alone knew the truth, and there was no reason why any one else, save perhaps mrs bush, need know. so, officially, captain bush met his end at the hands of a stray party of head-hunters whilst going his rounds; and they granted a pension to the widow, which, afterwards, she refused to take.
mrs bush rose with a cry of glad surprise when they told her basil was downstairs; and she hurried into the room with hands outstretched. “oh! i was praying you would come when you heard of it,” she said. “i should have gone mad with no one to speak to.”
he bent down and kissed her hands. “my lady,” he said.
and then they understood one another at last, because the bar to their understanding, that which would have made it a sin before, had been removed, in accordance with the law of the bolo.
