We seated ourselves on a table, back to back and facing out, with our own weapons very handy, and had a talk with Pula which lasted until late in the afternoon. Standing within striking distance of us most of the day, were two stalwart Moros, each of whom had a kriss dagger firmly gripped in his right hand and concealed between his folded arms. When one remembers that the average Moro fighter does not seem to know when he is dead, but keeps on doing damage after he ought to be busily occupied in passing to the other world, it will be seen that our situation left much to be desired. Under the pretext of sending for a phonograph with which to entertain the crowd while our negotiations continued, I communicated with the captain of our steamer, advising him of the facts. He got out ammunition for his two one-pounder rapid-fire guns and took up a position immediately in front of the town. We did not ask him for reënforcements, believing that any attempt on his part to send them would precipitate an attack on us. Never did I pass a more peculiar, or a more unpleasant, day. Miller steadfastly insisted that Pula's brother and the hired assassin be given up. Pula produced two thoroughly cowed Tagbanuas whom he had induced by threats to declare that they had committed the murders, and most emphatically declined to turn over either his brother or the true murderer. Our discussions were punctuated by tunes played on the phonograph which created great excitement among the Moros, some of whom got up and danced to the music! Finally, late in the afternoon, Pula gave in, turned the murderer over to us, and promised to turn over his brother, but said that the latter must first be allowed to go home to get some clothes, and that he would then send him on board our ship. We improved this our first opportunity to beat a retreat without losing face. Our Moro "friends" bid us good-by on the beach, then armed themselves and followed us at a short distance as we marched back to the landing place where our launch was pounding in the surf, awaiting our return. Three strong fighting parties came out of the dense vegetation which bordered the beach immediately after we had passed the places where they were concealed. They had obviously been waiting there to cut off our retreat if trouble started, and could most certainly have done it. In fact, they could have shot us down from the brush without showing themselves. It required all the self-control which I could muster to keep my back toward the strong and constantly growing group of armed men who followed us, and to look unconcerned, yet I knew, as did every other member of the party, that our seeing the light of another day probably depended on our ability to do both things. The slightest evidence of alarm would have precipitated a fight which could have had but one outcome for us.