They made an examination, and one of the women came and placed her hand on Walter's forehead. "Ah, as I thought, the pig has a fever! And he is going to have it worse. Perhaps he will die."
"Small loss if he does die," growled the second woman, as she, too, felt of the young sailor's forehead. "Do you think he is one of the prisoners who got away from Corel's party, Banno?"
"'Tis not unlikely," answered the old man addressed. "But he is young to be a prisoner. What shall we do with him?"
Soon several others came up from the village, and all gathered around the prostrate form.
"How white he is!" whispered one big boy. "I thought all Americanos were red and wore feathers in their hair and painted their faces." His mistake was a common one among the ignorant Filipinos, who think of Uncle Sam's people as an offshoot of the Indians. One child after another dared his companions to touch the body, but each shrank back, fearing some evil knosha, or "hoodoo," would fall upon him.
At length a tall, thin woman with a rough, red scar on her face broke through the crowd, which readily parted to give her passage. "What is the
