But as his chief left the cabin, he sprang up like one possessed, rushed to the door and peered maliciously outside. Indistinct in the gloaming, a feminine form could be descried, regally erect, upon the high-borne chaise. Gato approached with beating heart. "Do not fear, señorita; we shall not harm you," he said softly. "You are our guest; the house is yours----" He was very near now. "The house is yours, and----" There was a sudden movement of the enigmatic figure upon the chaise. A furious slap sent his sombrero whirling to the ground. "You boorish little boy, you," rasped the voice of the widow; "you little brute! What do you mean, _what_ do you mean by standing with your hat on, before an American lady!" IV "Gomez," said Papa Gato disconsolately; "Gomez, I can't stand it any longer!" This was in the commandante's hut, during the burning hours of the siesta, and ten days after the arrival of the widow. Gato and Gomez were lying stomachs down upon a petate in attitudes of limp discouragement. "It's pretty bad," murmured Gomez meditatively. "We're up against it," went on Gato (all this took place in Tagalog, but is translated into equivalent English). "We sure are," echoed Gomez sombrely. There was a long, pained silence. "Gomez," whined Gato, "I haven't a pulgada of authority left!" "You certainly haven't," said Gomez, a certain appreciation brightening his manner. "And you have less!" went on Gato. "The she-cat!" spit out Gomez, all appreciation gone. "She bosses the camp!" "She sure does." "We have to eat at tables now." "With forks." "And say grace." "With our faces in our plates." "We have school every day," went on Gato, sinking deeper and deeper into despair. "_Do_ we; well, I guess! 'Do you ssee dde hhett? Yiss, I ssee dde hhett. How menny hhetts do you ssee? I ssee ttin hhetts. Oh, look at de moon, she is shining up there. I loof de name of Wash-ing-ton, I loof my coon-tree, too'--ah, it makes me sick!" And Gomez spit upon the ground. "Gomez, Gomez; we must do something!" "Go ahead"--graciously. "Gomez"--hopefully--"let's chop off her head!" "You can't"--gloomily. "Good Lord, Gomez; don't you think, with my best bolo, very well sharpened, if we hit hard, very hard, that maybe----" "That's not it. Remember the speech she made to us the first day: "'Keep that in your heathen minds. I'm an American woman, an American woman, remember! That means I am sacred, sacred! If you harm me, if you as much as touch one of my hairs----'" "But she has only two or three, Gomez!"