The young man took the queer little book and turned the pages curiously. "I hardly think what is written here can be dispatches," he said, "The paper and the ink both look too old for that. The words seem to be Latin; bad Latin, too, I should say. I think it is what the natives call an 'anting-anting;' that is a charm of some kind. Evidently this one did not save the life of the man who wore it. Probably it is a very famous talisman, else they would not have run such a risk to try to get it back." "Can you read it?" "Not off hand. With your permission I will take it to my tent, and I think I can study it out there." "Do so. When you make English of it I'd like to know what it says. I am getting interested in it" The lieutenant bowed, and went away. "Bring that prisoner to me," the captain ordered, later in the day. "Do you want to go free?" he asked, when the Tagalog had been brought. "If the Senor wills." "What is that book?" The man made no answer. "Tell me what the book is, and why you wanted it; and you may go home." "Will the Senor 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. "All right. Send him in; and take this fellow outside." "But, Senor," the man's eyes plead for him as loudly as his words; "the 'anting-anting.' You said I could have it and go." "Yes, I know. Go out and wait." "What do you report, Lieutenant? Can you read it?" "Yes. This is very singular. There is no doubt but the book is now nothing but a charm." "Yes. I found that out." "But I feel sure it was originally something more than that. Something very strange." "What?" "It purports to be the record of the doings of a man who seems to have died here many years ago, written by himself. It tells a strange story, which, if true, may be of great importance now. To make sure the record would be kept the writer made the natives believe it was a charm, while its being written in Latin kept the nature of its message from them." "Have you read it?"