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Types of the Savage Head Hunters, at Whose
Hands Myra Allen Narrowly Missed
Death in a Pit of Venomous
Serpents.
Manila, Aug. 20,
T WAS a Moro-made match.
I Can you imagine a fierce, unclean, brown
< outlaw of the almost impenetrable moun
tains of the Philippines as a matchmaker? An
#lrreconcilable” lending his aid to the gent'e
arts of civilized Cupid? That is what hap
pened in the mountain walled zone, a dav's
journey from Taluksauguy, in the Philippine
Islands, as a melodramatic sequel to Mrs,
Lorillard Spencer’s perilous mission to the
savages of that region.
The methods of the outlaw natives 'were not
of the kind that would commend themselves
to the dainty women who will read this true
tale of love in the mid-Pacific Isles, but the
facts about them make an exceedingly in
teresting story just the same.
The heroine is Myra Allen, a beautiful Eng
lish girl ,who despite the importunities of
many admirers in England and in the United
States, had determined to devote her life to
the conversion of the ferocious brigands. The
bero is John Morley, a young Canadian of
excellent family, and of a competence which
he had hoped to increase to many millions as
a trader in the Philippines. They are spend
ing their honeymoon in Japan, trying to forget
among the flower wilderness of the cherry
blossom land the nightmare of the awful ad
venture which culminated in their love and
wedlock.
In her London home Myra Allen had heard
of Mrs. Lorillard Spencer’s perilous last year's
venture into the wilds of the Philippines, and
of her unexpectedly safe return. A bishop,
addressing Miss Allen's Sunday school class,
had told of it, and the fresh cheeked English
girl with the ecalm, clear eyes had been
swept away upon the tide of his eloquence,
He had quoted what the wealthy and fastidious
ornament of New York society had said on
her return from a year spent in founding a
school and hospital at Jolo: “All they need
is that you stretch out your hand to them.”
The girl's fancy was fired by the picture.
The grim realism of the reply: “But you
remained near the walls of Jolo. Had you
gone among the mountains in the interior and
bad stretched forth your hand it would have
been cut off,” she did not know.
Miss Allen, pausing in the States for visits
to friends In New York and Denver, had sailed
for the Philippines on her journey of salva
tion. Ultimately she would become a deaconess
in the Church of England. Her beautiful face,
upturned to the stars, was stamped by the
religious exaltation of her aims. John Morley,
sailing on the same boat, often met her on
their promenades of the deck. But he knew
no one on board. Nor did she. Unfortunately
they did not sit at the same table. He had
entertained thoughts of cultivating the captain
and seeking an introduction, but ho had heard
that this captain was a stern man, who had
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Mrs. Lorillard Spencer and Child. It Was Mrs. Spencer’s
Mission to the Moros Which Inspired Miss
Allen to a Similar Undertaking.
set his face against shipboard flirtations, and
' refused to connive at them. More inventive
men, or bolder, might hrve devised ways to
achieve this girl’s acquaintance. But not such
a conservative man as John Morley. When
they disembarked at Manila they were still
strangers.
“You are going to Jolo and beyond” he
heard the captain say at their leavetaking.
He looked regretfully after the tall figure and
the ruddy-cheeked face with the saint's eyes,
and with a sigh that he stified set about a
strong man's business in the world, the busi
ness of getting on.
He established trading posts at a half dozen
of the settioments, placing ..gorous young
Canadiane, who had accompanied him from
their native Northwest, in charge. Then he
proposed to penetrate the interlor, and estab
lish more.
«. “Don’t think of it,” warned a countryman
of his, “The moun
tains are infested by
the worst group of
the Moros. They are
the Irreconcilables.
Not only do they be.
lieve In many wives,
but they have »
taste for human
flesh, especially that
of their enemies.”
“l won't interfere
with their many
wives custom,” re-
Joined John Morley.
“And I'll take with
me a half dozen
boys so well armed
shat the head-haat
ers won't be likely
to barbecue me.”
Copyright, 1915, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserved.
>
Miss Myra Allen, the Pretty Heroine
of the Thrilling Romance of the Phillip
pines That Nearly Cost Her Life
When It Won Her a Husband.
“They've roasted bigger men than you, and
eaten them with relish. Don’t you know, man,
that one-fifth of the people of the Philippines
are Mahometans, who think that their condi
tion in Paradise will be improved by every
Christian they have digested? They are thirst
ing for your blood.”
Silencing protests with a laugh, John Mor
ley set forth to the interior. Having established
another post without serious hindrance by the
natives, the spirit of adventure stirred him to
make the journey to the Island of Basilan
with a view to establishing a post at Taluk
sauguYy.
“Don’t,” a white man warned him. *“You
have escaped thus far. Don't spring between
the molars of those savages.”
' Again John Morley laughed. But this friend
was more forceful in his pleadings.
“Don’t be a fool,” he warned. “Only two or
three white persons have returned from such
a journey. A girl started on the last boat. She
could not be dissuaded, and when I saw her
putting off I knew she was going to her death.”
A memory stirred poignantly in John Mor
ley. He was surprised at a sudden, unaccus
tomed fear in his heart.
“A tall girl, English, with fresh color and
beautiful, calm eyes?” he asked.
“Yes; a girl who had been doing missionary
work at Jolo, and was bent on reconciling the
Irreconcilables,”
“T'wo half-naked head hunters had seized the
girl and were pushing her toward the edge
of a rocky pit, where a score of serpents,
their fangs dripping deadly venom, writhed
and hissed in anticipation of another victim.”
“You say she went
to Taluksauguy?”’
“Yes, to the very
hotbed of Mahome
tan fanaticlsm.”
‘She has gone to
try to convince those
Captain Kidds that
they should have but
one wife. A swing
of & bolo and she'll
be silenced forever.
They are Against in
terference in their
family affairs as in
matters of govern
ment.”
After that flends
eould not have kept
Morley from the
Island of Basilan.
Arriving mt Taluk
sauguy, he inquired
little abhout a suitable
point for the estab
lishment of a trad
ing post, and much
for the destination
of the young mis
sionary,
“To the nmorth”
they sald, pointing
to the far line of the
dark hills, and those
touched by eciviliza
tion among them
shook their heads at
mention of the girl
and her errand.
John Morley has
tened with his little
band to the jagged
mountains, whose
high edges seemed
to rend the sky. He
travelled for three
days, following first
one path, then an
sther, asking through
his interpretier for ¢,
tall white woman, .
‘One who had no veil over her face? Yes,
she had ridden to the north.”
One dirty native woman had seen her
“before the last going down of the sun.” “She
spoke to me. She read from a book. She
asked if T were the only wife of my husband
and when I told her 1 was the fourth she
knelt and prayed.” The dirty native woman
spat upon the ground.
John Morley's face was white as he listened.
“That way?” he asked the hag. She nodded
toward the mountain peak. “She will not go
far,” she exulted to the interpreter. “One of
our women, a princess, went to Europe and
got education. She came back with strange
notions like that. She told us we should be
but the one wife of one man. One day she
was gone. No one has ever found her,” the
hag laughed.
“She has not gone far,” she repeated.
Morley and his little band dashed across the
stopped not for supper nor to rest, though the
men grumbled that they were tired. Scme
thing strong, inexplicable, compelling, drove
him on. At midnight, as he approached the
group of boulders at the highest point in the
mountain, he understood what had impelled
him. From the shelter of the rocks came a
cry of anguish. A woman’s voice walling in
the presence of death.
Morley and his little band pushed on. They
huge stones to the source of the cries. A turn
of the largest boulder and they faced a scene
that chilled their blood. Two huge half-naked
head-hunters had gripped the girl by the
shoulders and were urging her forward to a
tortuous death.
In the centre of the space surrounded by the
wall of boulders was a pit from which pro
ceeded a sound as of the boiling over of a
dozen tea kettles. Above its dark, round edge
protruded slimy dark heads, hissing frem red
open mouths, poison dripping from waiting
fangs. Into this Hadean depths the Moros
were about to plunge the beautiful missionary.
In the background sat native women with thelr
fat, brown children, watching the scene with
stolid enjoyment,
Morley, at danger of a hideous death, flung
himself between the girl and the hissing execu
tioners. A blow from the butt end of his
pistol and one of the head-hunters was felled
senseless. At his command one of his men
grasped the other Iggorote. A third menaced
the women and children and stilled their sum
mohs to neighboring Iggorotes by a flourish of
his revolver. Others patrolled the bouldered
:l"l of what had been so nearly a chamber of
e:u:hot into the snake pit and the reptiles
slipped back to its depths to inspect their
brother's remains,
Myra Allen lay in a crumpied heap. John
Morley leaned over her, his ear upon her heart,
to assure himself that she was still alive,
How the little band of Canadians carried the
girl down the mountain path in the moonlight,
how her escorts convoyed her to safety, and
how, while she was recovering at the little hut
near the mosque, she abandoned all thought of
converting the Mahometans because John
Morley convinced her that it wss her duty to
regenerate his life, {8 commonplace beside the
girl's awful peril on that mountain top. |
She journeyed to Jolo with her rescuers, con.
tinued her journey to Manila under the
chaperonage of a deaconess. With the dea
coness as an impromptu matron the wedding
was performed by a young curate,
In a villa out of Tokio the bride is trying to
banish memories of the tragedy of the moun
tain peak from which she was saved by her
bridegroom,
L