on-joos
like-a-bow-boot-now-she-ees-biggerr-on-rrraon-like-an-O."

Then a big gulp of air and again:

"Oh-look-et-de-moon-she-ees-shinin-up-theyre,----" etc.

An hour of this, and he skipped from the lyric to the patriotic, and
then it was:

"I-loof-dde-name-off-Wash-ing-ton,
I-loof-my-coontrrree-tow,
I-loof-dde-fleg-dde-dear-owl-fleg,
Off-rridd-on-whit-on-bloo-oo-oo!"

By this time the Maestro was ready to go to bed, and long in the torpor
of the tropic night there came to him, above the hum of the mosquitoes
fighting at the net, the soft, wailing croon of Isidro, back at his
"Goo-oo-oo nigh-igh-igh loidies-ies-ies."

These were days of ease and beauty to the Maestro, and he enjoyed them
the more when a new problem came to give action to his resourceful
brain.

The thing was this: For three days there had not been one funeral in
Balangilang.

In other climes, in other towns, this might have been a source of
congratulation, perhaps, but not in Balangilang. There were rumors of
cholera in the towns to the north, and the Maestro, as president of the
Board of Health, was on the watch for it. Five deaths a day, experience
had taught him, was the healthy average for the town; and this sudden
cessation of public burials--he could not believe that dying had
stopped--was something to make him suspicious.

It was over this puzzling situation that he was pondering at the morning
recess, when his attention was taken from it by a singular scene.

The "batas" of the school were flocking and pushing and jolting at the
door of the basement which served as stable for the municipal caribao.
Elbowing his way to the spot, the Maestro found Isidro at the entrance,
gravely taking up an admission of five shells from those who would
enter. Business seemed to be brisk; Isidro had already a big bandana
handkerchief bulging with the receipts which were now overflowing into a
great tao hat, obligingly loaned him by one of his admirers, as one by
one, those lucky enough to have the price filed in, feverish curiosity
upon their faces.

The Maestro thought that it might be well to go in also, which he did
without paying admission. The disappointed gate-keeper followed him. The
Maestro found himself before a little pink-and-blue tissue-paper box,
frilled with paper rosettes.

"What have you in there?" asked the Maestro.

"My brother," answered Isidro sweetly.

He cast his eyes to the ground and watched