in a wallow: this is what makes life worth living for
him. Furthermore, when he gives word that he is thirsty Mr. Tao (the
peasant) must not delay watering him; in this hot climate thirst may
drive him furiously, savagely mad, and the plowman may not be able to
climb a cocoanut tree quick enough to escape hurt.

I saw quite a few goats, some cattle, a few hogs, and, of course, some
dogs. Much as the Filipino may care for his dog, however, he always
reserves the warmest place in his heart for nothing else but his
gamecock, his fighting rooster. Cock-fighting, and the gambling
inseparably connected with it, are his delight, and no Southern
planter ever regarded a favorite fox-hound with more pride and
affection than the Filipino bestows on his favorite chicken. In grassy
yards you will see the rooster tied by one leg and turned out to
exercise, as we would stake a cow to graze, while his owner watches
and fondles him. I shall never forget a gray-headed, bright-eyed,
barefooted old codger I saw near Tarlac stroking the feathers of his
bird, while in his eyes was the pride as of a woman over {160} her
first-born. A man often carries his gamecock with him as a negro would
carry a dog, and he is as ready to back his judgment with his last
_centavo_ as was the owner of Mark Twain's "Jumping Frog" before that
ill-fated creature dined too heartily on buckshot. Sundays and saints'
days are the days for cock-fighting--and both come pretty often.

I wish I could give my readers a glimpse of the passengers who got on
and off my train between Manila and Daguban: Filipino women carrying
baskets on their heads, smoking cigarettes, and looking after
babies--in some cases doing all three at once; Filipino men, likewise
smoking, and with various kinds of luggage, including occasional
gamecocks; Filipino children in most cases "undressed exceedingly," as
Mr. Kipling would say; and American soldiers in khaki uniforms and
helmets. At one place a pretty little twelve-year-old girl gets
aboard, delighted that she is soon to see America for the first time
in six years. For a while I travel with an American surveyor whose
work is away out where he must swim unbridged streams, guard against
poisonous snakes, and sleep where he can. An army surgeon tells me as
we pass the site of a battle between the Americans and the Filipino
insurgents eleven years ago: the Filipinos would not respect the Red
Cross, and the doctors and hospital corps had to wor