"Tell me this: If America must listen to the Filipinos, who are false, why must she not listen to us?"

In the commencement paper of one of the class of 1924 in a mountain school appears this barbed passage:

"Let us take to heart the sad spectacle of many of our young lowland brothers who have acquired their education for the purpose of escaping work, for the purpose of grafting on their own of the tao class, and on us mountaineers. . . . Let us here earnestly resolve that we will always endeavour to carry out the tenets of justice whether we be dealing with the most exalted of the land or the most forlorn and ignorant of our fellows. Let us here resolve never to be mouthing parasites, who prey on the ignorant and orate on the principles of liberty, of which we possess more than any people under the sun. Let us make our work and deeds talk for us, leaving mouthing to weaker men.

"We are of a sturdy race. Our forefathers were mighty workers and mighty warriors-else our race would have perished from the earth. So let us justify our heritage and show that through our training we are better men than our fathers, and not above laying our hands to the plough or the building of a road or a wall. We have sturdy backs and strong hearts. Let us so build our farms, our roads, our province. And above all let us build our fellow tribesmen into a homogeneous race who will love justice and freedom and never be afraid to raise their voices and their hands against those who would violate that ideal."

"All mountain people love Governor-General Wood," said a Benguet head man. "We would do anything he asks, because he is a man, and our friend. We do not like weaklings, nor liars. We love General Wood. Once he called us together at a cañao and talked to us about a new thing. About eating dogs. He explained that Americans do not eat dogs because dogs are friends. He said that a dog's face shows that he has a heart like a brother, and that dogs should be considered like children-taught wisdom and obedience, and loved. He asked

us not to eat them any more because it made Americans feel sad and strange. So we have not eaten dogs since, although we have been very hungry and sometimes there has not been the smallest fish in any stream, nor any meat for months. Many Filipinos eat dogs, though they pretend they do not. And they can always get other meat. We often can get no other meat. But we are Governor-General Wood's friends. And he asked us not to eat dogs."

"Bontocs don't understand Ifugaos' speech," said an Ifugao. "No one understands any one else. Only our boys who understand English; they can all understand each other. And no Filipino understands any of us. In the old days this seemed to us the way of the world. Now we see it is a great danger. Much evil can come that way. It would be a terrible thing if Independence came while we are still like this."

And then he told me a story:

Late in the year 1922, he related, there was much confusion, in one of the far mountain districts, over a question of taxes. The people did not understand, and the Filipino official would not or could not explain to them. He only threatened. And they did not understand.

"The American Governor-General demands money," said the Filipino. "You must pay."

So the tribe took council together and said this:

"If Governor-General Wood wants anything of us, that thing must be right. He is our friend. We know that. He has come to visit us. He has talked with us around our fire. He has taken our hands. His word is enough. But is this his word? The Filipino is lazy and a trickster, and he has no love for us. We know that. Can we believe him now?"

Again and again they discussed it. Finally their resolution was framed: They would risk nothing, neither disobeying their friend nor being tricked by their enemy. Four of their wisest men, departing secretly, should go to their friend and ask him to explain to them the truth.

So the chosen four, old men all, started out to walk to

Manila. To walk, because they had no money to pay carriage even over that last small section of the road on which carriage could be had. A month's journey it was, of constant trudging over the high wind-swept trails and then down into the lowland heat, where the mountaineer wilts in an hour.

At last Manila lay before them-a strange and monstrous sight. With lifted hearts they entered the town. Now they would see their friend. He would welcome them in his house, as they had welcomed him. He would cheer them and give their weary old bodies rest.

"Please tell us the way to the house of the Governor-General?" they asked of one of the city crowd.

But the man only stared.

"That must be a stranger here," one said to the other. "We will try again."

"Please tell us the way to the house of the Governor-General?" This time it was an older man to whom they appealed. But the man, laughing in their faces, left them without a word.

And so the day passed. Faint with anxiety, hunger and fatigue, dazed by the crowd and its mockery, yet ever repeating their plea, the four old strangers strayed through the streets-they who were men of station, respected in their own place they who had never left their spacious hills before. But not a soul took pity on them-not a creature was moved to compassion by their all too-obvious distress.

The Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes exists ostensibly for the care of these people-but it is significant of its quality and influence that not one Filipino out of the staring cityful who saw these conspicuous visitors cared to connect them with the Bureau or to get an interpreter thence.

Four old men in gee strings, among the sleek, smart, jeering crowd-four old mountaineers, foot-sore, famished, pleading, pleading and not a soul to help.

That night they slept by the roadside. Next dawn they began again. But the people only jostled and gaped and

jeered. No one could or would understand. No one would help.

At last, broken-hearted, they turned toward home. They had not seen the Governor-General. They could not find him. And their strength was gone.

Their hearts were broken-and their work undone. Sothree of them died by the wayside in the first three days of the homeward march. The fourth alone, pushing on and still on, survived to be rescued by the man who told this tale. And the tale is true.

But probably not even the tale ever got to General Wood. It is of the common stuff of daily history.

Chapter XXV

ALVAREZ

Now for a people of character largely antipodal to that of the Christian Filipino. Now for the inhabitant of the other end of this 1,150-mile-long archipelago. Now for the Moro-the man of the Far South.

Yet first this shall be stated:

The Moro country, over which our flag flies, yet of which we have scarcely heard, must during the last three years have disgraced our name among nations; must have forced itself on the notice of the world by a wholesale madness of carnage, but for one thing.

That one thing was the personal influence, not the official power, of Major-General Wood.

Less and less is it possible for our Executive to bring any actual relief to a situation daily more scandalous. For no step that he might take-no appointment that any executive might make with a primary view to serving the interests of the population concerned-would be confirmed by the Filipino Legislature.

Manila, under existing primitive means of transportation, seems as remote from the Moro country as does Constantinople from New York. The little yacht Apo makes trips there, carrying the Governor-General, or one of his aides, from time to time to visit the people. But the Governor-General cannot even promise them help-for America's hands are snared from her duty by a tangle of lawless laws. He can only ease their over-burdened minds by listening to their woes. He can only renew their realization of his personal good-will and integrity and, in return, ask for further forebearance. Then he must sail away and leave them to their fears and their destiny.