a guard besides the officer,
who, armed with a revolver, acted as the overseer. The work was very
telling on the men, and often out of a whole company not more than
twenty-eight reported. Some grew as strong as oxen under this unusual
routine; others had to take advantage of the sick report. The soldiers
were required to work five hours a day, and double time after a day
of rain. Considerable Moro labor was employed on the last sections
of the road.

A unique feature of the work was the erection of small bridges made
of solid logs from the material at hand, and bolted down by long steel
bars. The "elbow" bridge which makes a bend along the hillside near the
first camp is a triumph in the engineering line. The camps were moved
on as the work progressed, and the advance guard ran considerable
risk. The Moros had an unexpected way of visiting the scene of
operation, and admiring it from certain hiding-places in the woods. As
they could hike their thirty or forty miles a day along the trails,
they often came much nearer to the troops than was suspected. Sentry
duty was especially a risky one, as frequently at night the Moros used
to fire into the camp. Only about one hundred yards along the trail
a soldier, who had gone into the woods for a "short cut," received
one from a Moro who was waiting for him in the shadow of a tree.

The camp at night, illuminated by the blue light of the stars, the
forest casting inky shadows on the ground, seemed like some strange,
mysterious domain. The officers around the tent of the commanding
officer were singing songs, accompanied by the guitar and mandolin. The
soldiers also from a distant tent--it was their own song, and the tune
"The Girl I Left Behind Me"--practicing close harmony, began:

"O, we're camped in the sand in a foreign land
Near the mighty Agus River,
With the brush at our toes, the skeeters at our nose,
The jimjams and the fever.

We're going up to Lake Lanao,
To the town they call Marahui;
When the road is built and the Moros killed,
We'll none of us be sorry.

We're blasting stumps and grading bumps;
Our arms and backs are sore, O!
We work all day just a dreamin' of our pay,
And d----n the husky Moro!

When taps sounded, we turned in beneath two blankets in a wall-tent
lighted by a feeble lantern. All night long the restless jungle sounds,
the whisper