Monsieur de la Gironiere, a French planter and trader, who visited the Philippines a lifetime ago, or more, told stories of the islands and their people that are taken in these days with a lump of salt. Among these narrations is one pertaining to the bandits who in the first years of the nineteenth century were numerous and troublesome on several of the islands, and who were alternately harassed and befriended by the officials,—chased when they had money and well treated when they had parted with most of it to cool the sweating palms of authority. Gironiere was visiting the cascades of Yang Yang when he found himself surrounded by brigands who were chattering volubly and pointing to his horses. They did not at first offer violence, but presently he understood that soldiers were in chase of them, and they were considering whether it would not be wise to kill the horses, lest the troop, on its arrival, should seize them to aid in the pursuit.

Gironiere could not afford horses often. He eagerly assured the thieves that he would not give his nags to the military; that he would, on the contrary, depart by the road over which he had come, in order to avoid meeting the soldiers, and this promise he made on the honor of a gentleman. The leader of the brigands saluted, and the Frenchman drove away, as he had agreed, the thieves watching him until he was out of sight. For months after this incident he had no trouble with the natives. His household goods, his garden products, his poultry were spared. Some years later, when he had definitely cast his fortunes with the Spaniards, he accepted a commission as captain of the horse guards at Laguna, and it then became his duty to trouble the very robbers who once had spared him. Their fighting was usually open, and, as the marksmanship on both sides was the very worst, it was seldom that anybody was hurt. Truces were made, as in honorable war, and the leaders corresponded with one another as to terms of battle or surrender. One unofficial document received by Gironiere cautioned him to look out for himself, as there was one in the bandit ranks who was ungrateful. “Beware of Pedro Tumbaga,” it said. “He has ordered us to take you by surprise in your house. This warning is in payment for your kindness at the cascades. You kept your word. We are ready to fight you now, as you would fight us; but we don’t strike in the back. Tumbaga will shoot you from hiding.”

Gironiere was a crafty person, likewise a cautious one. He knew where to send an answer to this epistle, and he sent it: “You are brave men, and I thank you. I do not fear Tumbaga, for he is a coward. How can you keep among you a man who would shoot another in the back?” Just look at that for slyness! And the message had the effect he desired and expected. Some brave bandit got behind a tree a couple of weeks afterward and shot a bullet through Tumbaga. Thus was the power of the brigands weakened, the safety of Gironiere assured, and good feeling re-established between the law and its habitual breakers.

The End