FEB. 17, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 

appointed not a Moro was visible, but instead, 
over the Sultan’s cotta—about half a mile away 
—flew his battle flag; a challenge to us to go 
ahead and crack our whip if we wanted to. Wish- 
ing to avoid a conflict if possible we sat down 
and waited,-but hour after hour passed with no 
sign from the Moros, save an occasional flash 
as the sun’s rays caught on spearhead or kris in 
the bamboos surrounding the fort. Finally grow- 
ing tired of waiting, Pershing ordered the artil- 
lery to drop a shell close to the cotta, which being 
done brought results immediately. As if by 
magic the battle flag came down and a white 
one was raised in its place, followed a few min- 
utes later by the appearance of the Sultan and 
his retinue. 
As soon as he reached us the old man began to 
put up a big bluff about having misunderstood 
the day appointed for the meeting and spoke 
“All right,” said Pershing, “we'll just take you 
along instead, and when your people bring him 
in we'll turn you loose, and not before.” 
Quick as a flash the Sultan’s hand went to his 
turban, from which he snatched a small poniard 
and made a jab at Pershing, which, had it 
reached him, would have created a vacancy in 
the list of captains of cavalry right then and 
there; but again the Moro didn’t know Pershing, 
who jumped to one side, caught the old rascal by 
the scruff of the neck, twisted him around and 
with a whole-souled kick placed where it would 
do the most good, sent the “brother of the sun, 
moon and stars, ruler of the world, his supreme 
highness, the Sultan of Binadyan,” sprawling and 
spluttering into the arms of two husky infantry- 
men, by whom he was quickly disarmed, while 
their comrades, hurriedly deployed to meet the 
attack of the Moros, seeing what had occurred, 
259 
strongest cotta, and sent his defiance, not only 
to his feudal lord, but us as well, which latter 
we didn’t hear of until weeks afterward. As 
the Sultan could only muster about half as many 
men as his vassal he naturally didn’t feel much 
like tackling the job, nor did he want us to go 
over and fight it out for fear that Ahmi Benan- 
ning’s people would be revenged on him later, 
One afternoon, about a week after we had 
taken the Sultan prisoner, the sergeant of the 
guard came running in from the outposts and 
reported that there were about 200 natives out 
there who wanted to see the commanding officer 
and that they had forty or fifty rifles among 
them. I happened to be present when the ser- 
geant made his report, and ordering our horses, 
Pershing and I galloped out to see who it was. 
and found Ahmi Mannibeling, the Datto Per- 
shing visited when he first went up to the lake, 

feelingly of his surprise that his dear friend 
should fire at his fort, but it wouldn’t work with 
Pershing, who insisted that Ahmi Benanning be 
produced instanter. 
Finding further delay impossible the Sultan 
jabbered a few words to one of his men, who 
started off on a run toward the cotta, and then 
turned and told us he had sent for our man, who 
had only returned from a long journey that 
morning and was resting at his (the Sultan’s) 
house prior to surrendering next day. 
The messenger came back presently bringing 
with him a little dried-up Moro, so old he could 
hardly walk and almost scared to death, whom 
the Sultan took by the hand and presented to 
us as Ahmi Benanning, the noted warrior. 
Unfortunately for the success of Binadyan’s 
little game there were a lot of us present who 
recognized this ancient person as a slave, who 
often came to camp with chickens and eggs to 
sell in the market, and we so informed Pershing, 
who refused to accept him as the man we were 
looking for. 
His bluff called, and recognizing that he “was 
up against it,’ Binadyan dropped his air of in- 
jured innocence and showing his teeth like a cor- 
nered rat, flatly refused to produce Ahmi Ben- 
anning, and asked Pershing what he was going 
to do about it. But he didn’t know Pershing. 
“You say you won’t surrender Ahmi Benan- 
ning?” said Pershing. 
“T will not,” replied the Sultan. 
, 
CAMP TEN, METALING FALLS, MINDANAO, P. I. 
first made a firing, scattering volley and then 
charging. They changed their minds, though, as 
soon as the Krags began to crack and took to 
their heels in short order, leaving their chief to 
his fate. 
The Moros disposed of, we put the Sultan on 
a horse and took him back to camp, where a tent 
was pitched for him and he was made as com- 
fortable as the circumstances would permit and 
given to understand that we intended him no 
harm but were determined to keep him a prisoner 
until his people brought in the man we were 
after. His sons were allowed to visit him daily, 
and twice a day his women brought him food, as 
he could not eat that which we provided because 
of his religion. 
It soon developed that in taking the old chap 
prisoner we had builded better than we knew, 
for he was one of the most highly-born Moros 
in Mindanao and related by either birth or mar- 
riage to nearly every family of importance in 
Moroland, who were ready to go to almost any 
extreme to obtain his freedom. 
We also learned that it was not wholly his 
fault that he hadn’t kept his promise to turn 
Ahmi Benanning over to us, as that Datto was 
one of the most powerful in the country and 
noted, even in that warlike community, for his 
courage. It seemed that the Sultan had made 
his original promise in good faith, but Ahmi 
Benanning, getting wind of what was going on, 
had gathered his men, intrenched himself in his 
who had come all the way from Marahui to re- 
turn the visit. 
Of course Pershing was glad to see him, but 
at the same time in something of a quandary as 
to what to do with him and his men, for it was 
a risky proposition to let 200 Moros enter camp, 
armed as these were, and under circumstances 
which utterly prohibited our taking the precau- 
tions usual in such cases. 
There was just one thing to do and Pershing 
—being Pershing—did it. Ahmi Mannibeling 
and his men were invited to enter, tents were 
put up for them, and they were told to make 
themselves perfectly at home. A council tent 
was erected and by 3 o'clock that afternoon a 
full-fledged pow-wow was in progress. Pershing, 
myself and our two interpreters sat on one side 
of the tent, Ahmi Mannibeling and some of his 
principal Dattos on the other, while the space 
between was packed as tight as it could be with 
members of Ahmi Mannibeling’s escort, who oc- 
cupied every available inch of room in the tent 
and overflowed outside. 
Cigarettes were passed and lighted, betel nut 
was offered and chewed, and we talked and 
talked and talked late that night. After the other 
Moros had rolled themselves in the sarongs and 
gone to sleep, which they did about 8 o’clock, 
Pershing and Ahmi Mannibeling adjourned to 
his tent and continued the conversation, but not 
one word did the wily old chieftain let fall as to 
the object of his visit. 
