on the roofs dance and rattle, the older people gather their little
black-eyed grandchildren around the shell of burning cocoanut oil
and tell them her story.

Many years ago there lived in Dumaguete a poor tuba seller named Banog,
who made his daily rounds to the houses just as the milkman does in
far-off America. But instead of a rattling wagon he had only a long
bamboo from which he poured the drink, and in place of sweet milk he
left the sap of the cocoanut tree.

The bad custom of mixing tuñgud, a kind of red bark, with the sap,
and thus making of it a strong liquor, had not yet been known, so
Banog, though poor, was respected, and the people tried in every way
to help him and his daughter Catalina.

Catalina was a beautiful girl of sixteen and very good and industrious,
but with many strange ways. She scarcely ever spoke a word and spent
most of her time in looking out over the sea. Sometimes she would
suddenly stand erect and, clasping her hands, would remain for a long
time looking up at the sky as if she saw something that no one else
could see. On account of these strange manners the people thought
her a wonderful girl and she was supposed to have mysterious powers.

One day many ships came up from the island of Mindanao and hundreds
of fierce Moros landed. Shouting and waving their terrible knives,
they fell upon the peaceful people and killed many, among them poor
Banog. Then they robbed and burned the houses and, seizing all the
women they could find, set sail for their great southern island. Among
the prisoners was Catalina. With her eyes fixed on the sky she sat
very quiet and still in the bow of one of the boats, and though her