I landed at Culasián Bay on the west coast, meaning to ascend a river to the settlement of Dato Tumay, the man whose people had on a former occasion fought Governor Miller with captured constabulary rifles and been soundly whipped. Finding no one on the beach, we walked up the river bank for a short distance to a group of half a dozen tightly closed houses which looked as if they might belong to fishermen. Here we were met by a splendidly dressed glad-hand delegation, who greeted us rather too effusively. My suspicion was further aroused by the fact that only three of them carried weapons, in sight at least. The weapons of a Moro chief are just as much a part of his full dress as are the garments he wears. I had a few moments' friendly conversation with these people, during which I noticed that several of them displayed a marked inclination to get behind me. This I did not like, so took up a position with my back to the river. Presently I suggested that we had come to call on Dato Tumay. The following conversation ensued:-- "You cannot go to see him." "Why not? Are the trails in bad condition?" "There are no trails." "Are you not Dato Tumay's people?" "Yes." "How did you come down if there are no trails?" "We came down the river." "Very well, we will go up the river." "You cannot do that." "Why not?" "There are no boats to carry you." "How did you come down?" "In those boats. [Pointing out two tiny dugouts barely able to carry two men each.] You and one of your friends can go up in them if you like. Two of our men will paddle you." This proposition did not seem attractive to me, so I suggested that I would take a little walk up the river. I had been positively assured that there was no other boat in the vicinity, but at the very first turn discovered a suspicious looking trail running up into the bushes and following it found a fully rigged war-canoe over which freshly cut brush had been hastily thrown. I suggested to the Moros that this looked very much like a boat. They replied that it leaked. I asked them to put it into the water, stating that I liked to see boats leak. Not a Moro stirred. We had brought twenty-five soldiers ashore with us, as Tumay's reputation was by no means of the best, and I now called to some of them to come and put the boat into the river. In passing back of the group of Moros, one of these men stubbed his toe on the shaft of a lance which was hidden in the grass, and fell on his nose. He raised the lance as he recovered his feet, then stooped and picked up a second one, trailed them behind him until he reached a position in front of me and dropped them on the ground. Both had the sheaths removed from their long steel heads. Another soldier kicked around in the grass a bit and produced a serpent kriss which had been drawn from its scabbard. Still another fished up a baróng. [28]