I was back in that ancient temple of Tzin Pia?u. My old heathen priest, half reclining on his hollowed slab of stone, was looking at me with a spark of laughter in his keen old eyes.  
"Have you seen for yourself?" he asked.
 
I nodded.
 
"And how," he asked me, "do you like to look at the Games of the Little Gods?"
 
"I think," said I angrily, "that they are Little Devils. That black man was a man. If they had given him half a chance—"
 
"Remember," said my heathen friend, quite calmly, "that I do not know your black man, or what they did to him. Something unpleasant, it appears. It does not matter. It is in the Game. But you think my Little Gods are Little Devils?"
 
"I do," I said.
 
"I wonder," mused my heathen priest, smiling through me into vacancy, "what he would think of Little Devils if he saw them." Suddenly his eyes glinted into mine. He made a little imperative gesture with his hand. "Go and see," he said. "This is the hour when I take another nap. And would you mind," he added, "as you're going out, just asking the porter to bring a jug of water?"
 
 
 
That night, when rice was eaten and the circle of darkness had shut down about our fire, Fermin Majusay, the private of Native Scouts who was my escort on the mountain, stretched out on his slim stomach and gazed into the hypnotic flames.
 
"I am going to tell you about my teniente," he said suddenly, "my lieutenant who is dead six months. He was a devil, that man. Listen! You have sat in the Café Puerta del Sol and watched the two old Spaniards who play forever the game called chess? Well, when the little man of Don Antonio gets in front of the little horse of Don José, does Don José say, 'Bad little man, go to another little square'? No, he says 'Muerto!'—'Dead!'—and takes the little man away. That is the game, to take all the little men off the board, and it is just the same with fighting. But all the white men I have seen, except my teniente, were afraid of the end. My teniente always laughed when the end came. He was born to be a soldier, like me.
 
"I remember how he laughed at Don Augusto. We were in a very bad province then. All the provinces are a little bad; that is why they sent me to take care of you, because the mountains are not safe for a white man. But that was an island in the south, and it was very bad. All the middle of it was mountains where ladrones lived, and they came down to the coast and made people give them food and money, and they stole carabaos from the plantations and killed travelers, and sometimes they burned a town and took the pretty girls away.
 
"We were sent there to catch them. It was very hard work. We chased them in the mountains and killed some, but that did no good. When we were in one place they were somewhere else, and when a man guided us in a little while he was dead. We knew what was the matter. It is always the same. The ladrones are in the mountains, but some man in the towns is their leader, and he gets so rich and strong that every one is afraid of him. In that island it was a planter named Augusto de los Reyes. Three times my lieutenant arrested Augusto de los Reyes and sent him down to San Pablo; and every time the judge said there was no proof and he came back, and in a little while all the witnesses against him were dead. And the ladrones in the mountains always knew when we were coming.
 
"If my teniente had been like other white men, he would have given up then. But he arrested Don Augusto once more. I remember the morning very well. I was orderly that day, and we were in the guard-room looking at some prisoners, and a guard came in, two in front and two behind, with this Don Augusto. He was a big, fat Bisayan, and we all looked at him, and he looked at us, and smiled. Then we didn't feel very good, for we knew what he'd like to do to us.
 
"But my teniente laughed when he saw him. He stood up and shook hands with Don Augusto, and he said: 'Buenos dias, Se?or Don Augusto de los Reyes.' Like that, making fun. 'It is not very long since we met,' he said, 'but I am very glad to see you again. I trust you found the prison at San Pablo pleasant?'
 
"This Don Augusto knew how to play the game, too. He smiled with his mouth and said: 'It is not bad, Se?or Teniente. But it grows tiresome to have the comedy of going there repeated so often. The judge gets tired, too, deciding that I am not such a bad man as my friend the teniente would have him think.'
 
"My teniente laughed again. 'These judges!' he said. 'If only they could see us as we are, Se?or Don Augusto de los Reyes. It is so hard to make them understand.' Then he stopped smiling, and talked very slow, more as if he talked to himself. 'I could send him down to San Pablo again, and I could say to the judge, "Se?or Juez, this is the Se?or Don Augusto de los Reyes whom the Swiss Bobin accused of giving information to the enemy, so that he lay in San Pablo jail for three weeks, till you said there was no proof." And I could say to the judge: "Last week this innocent gentleman came back from his trial, and last Sunday, as the Swiss Bobin rode on a narrow trail, four men attacked him and cut off his hand as he drew his revolver, and then killed him." But what would that amount to?'
 
"'Very little,' said Don Augusto.
 
"'Nothing,' said my teniente. 'And I could tell the judge: "That Sunday night men came to the house of the late Swiss Bobin and took his woman away, and her muchacha found her next morning staked by the four hands and feet to an ant-hill." But that would be no charge against the Se?or Don Augusto de los Reyes.'
 
"'Precisely,' said Don Augusto, and he smiled. Oh, he was a big, proud man, and he knew what he could do so well that he did not pretend not to know.
 
"'Precisely,' said my teniente. 'And I could tell the judge: "The two weeks' baby of the late widow of the late Swiss Bobin died that Monday afternoon, so to-day there is not a soul alive of the family of the man who charged an innocent gentleman unjustly, as you yourself decided, Se?or Juez."
 
"Don Augusto smiled and was going to speak, but my teniente only moved his hand and went on, and all of us soldiers in the guard-room held our breaths and listened, for we knew that he spoke the truth. 'We could tell the judge: "The four men who killed the man and the woman and left the baby to starve live on the plantation of the prisoner and owe him much money." But what does that prove? Even if we tell him that all the enemies of the Se?or Don Augusto de los Reyes for twenty years have gone that way, and that no one any more dares to be a witness against him for fear of his revenge, the judge will not care about that. The judge wants proof, and we have no proof. No matter how well we know each other, we have no proof. So I shall not send my dear friend down to jail again. I am tired of it, too.'
 
"All we soldiers looked at the ground, for we thought our teniente was a fool, like the judge, and would let Don Augusto go again. And Don Augusto looked at us as if we were dogs—I wanted to give him my bayonet—and he smiled and said: 'I thank you so much, Teniente mio, for sparing me another of the comedies. It is better for every one. Adiós, Se?or.'
 
"Oh, I told you that teniente of mine was a devil! He got up and shook the hand of Don Augusto, and he smiled and said: 'Adiós, Se?or Don Augusto de los Reyes. We shall not meet again for some time, I think. I am getting very tired of it myself. But I will give you a trustworthy escort. José!'
 
 "Adiós, Se?or Don Augusto." 
"Adiós, Se?or Don Augusto."
"We all jumped, his voice was so different, and the corporal of my squad stepped out and saluted. 'You will be the Se?or's escort as far as he goes,' my teniente said. 'You will need only your revolver.' He stopped a moment, and then he said: 'José, you must be very careful that he does not escape.'
 
"You know what that order meant then? Jos knew, and his face went like ashes—he was a baby anyway—and he could hardly say 'Si, mi teniente.' And that big fat pig of a Don Augusto, he knew, and he dropped all together, as if he had no bones, and he went down on his knees. But my teniente only laughed, and said: 'A pleasant journey to you, Se?or Don Augusto de los Reyes, and a relief from comedies.'
 
"And then he took the commissary reports and wrote on them till José came back. José was shaking and green and my teniente looked at him. 'You are back quickly,' he said. 'What is the matter?'
 
"'The prisoner tried to escape, mi teniente,' José said.
 
"'That was very foolish of him,' said my teniente. 'Where is he now?'
 
"'Across the river, mi teniente,' José answered.
 
"'Sergeant,' said my lieutenant, 'send two men across the river with shovels,' and then he tossed José a peseta to buy vino, and then he went on with the commissary reports."
 
Fermin Majusay had forgotten everything else in thinking of his hero, and the fire was almost out. He brought it to a blaze and lay down on his blanket again. "That night while we whispered together in barracks, and that chicken-hearted José sat by himself and muttered prayers and drank vino out of his bottle, we named our teniente El Diablito—the Little Devil. Not because he was little, but because we loved him. You know Angel Bantiling calls his wife Chiquita—Tiny One—and she is big as a carabao. El Diablito, I named my teniente, and we were afraid. If he had come down-stairs that night, we would all have run away. But what would you have? That Don Augusto was in the way, so my teniente took him off the board just like one of Don Antonio's little men of chewed bread. That is the game. If one is afraid of it, there are other games one can play. One does not have to be a soldier. But he made us afraid, just the same.
 
"After Don Augusto was dead, all that part of the province was good, so they sent us to another part. Barang was the name of the town where we went. It was a better town; the people were good; we had nothing to do but drill. And after drill, often, my teniente took me to shoot with him. I would hold an empty bottle for beer in my hand, like that, and my teniente would shoot it from twenty paces with his revolver. Hoy, he was a devil at everything, my teniente! Hundreds and hundreds we broke, and he never hurt me. And he took me to be his servant in his quarters, and I was very happy, there in Barang."
 
Fermin Majusay gazed into the fire again, and his keen animal face was wonderfully softened in the flickering light.
 
"Diós," he sighed, "I was happy, there in Barang! Only one thing I did not like,—that was Isidro Abelarde. He was the leader of the town, the son of a very rich haciendero, young and handsome. And he became the friend of my teniente. They would laugh and talk together for hours, and ride together, and I did not like it. We Macabebes have many enemies—all the Filipinos are our enemies—and we have to be suspicious always. I began to wonder why Isidro Abelarde wanted to be with my lieutenant. 'Mi teniente,' I said to him, 'I do not like it that Don Isidro comes here. It is not good that he can pass the guard at any time, as if he were a white man. If he means harm—'
 
"My teniente laughed. 'You are more bother than a wife, Fermin,' he said. 'Why should he mean harm to me?'
 
"'He is the pariente—the relative—of Don Augusto,' I said. My teniente looked at me, and I saw that he did not like to hear the name of Don Augusto. For a minute I was frightened—he had terrible eyes when he was angry. 'How do you know that?' he asked me.
 
"I would not tell him—we have ways of knowing things—and he got angrier, and struck me. It made my eye black, but I did not care. He was my teniente, any way, and he had been drinking. Next day I was glad of it, for Don Isidro came to dinner, and he looked at my eye. Often, when he thought no one saw him, he looked at it. Then I had an idea. My teniente was very short with me, because he was sorry, and Don Isidro was so young it was not hard to make him think that I was angry with my teniente. I scowled at him all the time behind his back; you know how.
 
"After a few days Don Isidro met me in the plaza and said: 'Fermin, I am very sorry that the teniente struck you.'
 
"'Why are you sorry, Se?or?' I asked him.
 
"'Because,' he said, 'the teniente is a friend of mine, and I hope that no harm will come to him. I have heard that a Macabebe never forgives a blow, but I hope you will be patient.'
 
"What a fool that young Isidro was! I looked very hard in his eyes, and I said, 'If a Macabebe forgives a blow as easily as a Bisayan forgets the death of his pariente, there is no danger for your friend—from me.'
 
"He looked at me, and all at once his lips twitched, and I knew I had him. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a little paper. 'Fermin,' he said, 'there is a sleeping-powder. The teniente will not strike you again if you do not wish it.'
 
"That young fool knew nothing at all, like a baby! I took the paper home and my teniente and I gave some of it to a monkey. The monkey curled up and died, very quick. That was at night, and my teniente stood for a while and looked at the dead monkey and the paper. And he laughed just the way he did the morning the guard led in Don Augusto.
 
"Next morning I was putting the breakfast on the table, and my teniente was standing at the window of the sola, looking down at the plaza. And all at once I heard him laugh, not very loud, and he called: 'Hoy, Don Isidro! Have the complacency to come up, amigo. I have news for you.' And soon Don Isidro came up.
 
"Jesus Maria, he was a pisaverde that morning! White coat and breeches, and high boots of black leather, and silver spurs, and long gloves of soft white leather.
 
"'Have the good-heartedness to share my poor breakfast,' my teniente said, and Don Isidro sat down, and they ate till I had no patience left. But at last Don Isidro pushed away his plate and leaned back in his chair and said, 'Now, teniente mio, what is this wonderful news?'
 
"My teniente pushed back his chair and offered his cigarette-case to Don Isidro. 'Take a long one, I beg,' he said.
 
"So Don Isidro selected an entrelargos, and I held a match for him, and then he smiled at my teniente through the smoke, and said: 'Our news, amigo mio. I die of suspense.'
 
"My teniente put the little packet which Don Isidro had given me on the table, and he looked at Don Isidro. I think the young fool knew then that the game was finished. But he was a brave one, I will say that, if he was a fool. He looked at the packet, and he looked at the teniente, and he looked at me and said, 'Traitor!'
 
"'As you were, Fermin,' my teniente commanded me. 'Let me urge you as a friend, Don Isidro, to smoke slowly and without excitement, for when that cigarette is finished you will be finished.'
 
"Don Isidro's hand trembled a little, but he was not afraid. 'My compliments, Se?or Teniente,' he said. 'You win again. Have our traitor bring a little water, and when I am done smoking I will take the sleeping-powder.'
 
"'I am sorry,' said my teniente, 'but a monkey ate it. And it would be unlawful to help you to commit suicide, anyway. Fermin, tell Raymundo to buckle on his revolver and be ready to escort Don Isidro down to—San Pablo.'
 
"'Dispensa, mi teniente,' I said. 'Does one ask a Macabebe to kill his officer, and call him a traitor, for nothing?'
 
"My teniente looked at me, and laughed. 'Get your own revolver then, Fermin,' he said.
 
"When I came back, Don Isidro's cigarette was very short. They both stood up, and my teniente said: 'Adios, Don Isidro. An easy journey to you in Fermin's friendly company, and a welcome in—San Pablo. Remember me particularly to your pariente, Don Augusto. I need not tell you, Fermin, that you must be very careful that he does not escape.'
 
"'I will be very careful, mi teniente,' I said, and we went away, and my teniente never knew that I made Don Isidro carry along a spade I saw in the guard-room. One does not call a Macabebe a traitor for nothing.... There is no more wood, and it gets late and cold. Shall we sleep, or will you hear the rest of my story while our fire dies?
 
"Bueno. I will not be long. Some of this story got out, not much, for only I and my teniente knew it all, but it frightened the other Americans, and they said my teniente was crazy. Sangre de Diós! He was not crazy then, but only one of God's own little devils. He was crazy afterwards, perhaps, but they made him so. Listen while I tell you what they did to him.
 
"There is a little place very far back in the hills, Santo Spirito they call it, where the frailes used to go for a retreat. There is nothing there, just a big convent of stone where no one lives, and a few little dirty houses, and the mountains behind, and the jungle all around, and the only people are lazy Bisayanos who do no work and are half drunk with opium. And they sent my teniente there to eat his heart!
 
"Oh, he was brave! He was very brave, but there was nothing to do. That's why they sent us there; they knew we could do no harm. The mountain was empty, and there was no one in the jungle, and the people of Santo Spirito were too lazy to be bad. But he was brave; he made work. We drilled long every day, and we made a parade-ground of the plaza in front of the convent, with culverts of concrete at the corners to carry off the water in the rainy season. That took many hours. But always there was the evening coming, when my teniente had to sit in the big sola, with the rats and the lizards squealing above him, and drink and drink and drink, and wait for the time when he could sleep.
 
"Hoy, that drinking! It frightened me, and I spoke to him about it. I could always speak to him, until the very end. He laughed at me. 'Give me something else to do, then,' he said. 'Shall I go and say a mass in the chapel?'
 
"So he would sit and drink aguardiente for hours, and look at his boots. Sometimes he would be like himself for a little while, and then he would go for a ride, or shoot some bottles from my hand. But not for long. One day his hand was not steady, and he shot too close—Aí, mi teniente! He just dropped the revolver on the ground and said, 'That's the end of it at last, Fermin,' and he walked back to the convent, and his shoulders were like the shoulders of an old man.
 
"After that he went out no more, and I took my blankets into his room and slept on the floor, and all night long I could hear him tossing on his cot. Sometimes he would say, 'Are you there, Fermin?' and I would say, 'I am always here, mi teniente,' and then he would rest for a little while.
 
"But one night I woke and he was not on his cot. I got up to look and he came in from the balcony—there was one of those closed balconies all around the convent, outside the rooms—and he was dressed in his full uniform, and had his two revolvers and his shotgun. He did not seem to see me.
 
"'Mi teniente!' I said.
 
"He looked where I was, and still he did not seem to see me. 'Keep a good lookout,' he said. 'They may come at any time.' He went out into the balcony again, and I could hear his feet—tramp, tramp, very slow—while he went down to the far end and came back on the other side.
 
"Aí, but I was scared! We were all scared, for every night after that we could hear his feet, and he never seemed to see us, but sometimes he would call: 'On guard, there! They may come at any time.' We were all scared, but we did all we could, if we were frightened. Not one of us ran away, not even that baby José.
 
"And then the end came, the end of the game for my teniente. Five days I brought his food and he never touched it, only drank aguardiente instead. And five nights, all night long, we heard him marching round and round the balcony, with his two revolvers and his shotgun. The last night I was so tired that I fell asleep. I do not know how long I slept, but all at once I heard my teniente call 'Halt!' and then I heard him laugh, and then his feet, quick, as if he ran, and then a crash on the ground outside. I ran, and some of the guard ran, and we found him lying on the flagstones of the patio, dead where he had fallen.
 
"That is the way they killed my teniente,—my teniente who might have been Governor-General of the world if they had let him play the game. He was not afraid of the end of it. Even when he was crazy, and heard the enemies we could not see coming, he only laughed and ran out to meet them."
 
A last ember of the fire flamed up, and Fermin Majusay turned his face quickly from the telltale light. "It was a long story," he said, and loosened his revolver in the holster. "Sleep without fear, Se?or," he said. "No one will trouble us while I am here."