In imitation of the semaphore system, I wig-wagged the Filipino, and with a hoarse voice in bad Spanish impressed on his mind the necessity of my getting across. Having a passing acquaintance with the municipal officer, he recognized me, and propelled the boat across himself by means of a cable, the river being about one hundred yards wide at this point. On reaching the other side, the patrol was as much pleased in making a little side money as I was delighted in getting across. It was not long before I had stabled my pony and sought peaceful repose in my Helen Gould cot in the old monastery. A few days later I set out with the cargadores on a new circuit. A very odd scene we encountered on this trip in the province of Pangasinán was a skirmish line of Filipinos transplanting rice to music. The rice paddies, or dikes, resembled level meadow-land and stretched out as far as the eye could discern in every direction. About one thousand Filipinos, men and women dressed in loud colors, were engaged in this work. Their formation was in the shape of a skirmish line, with a deploy of about two feet; each planter was covered in rear by another who passed the rice plants as the supply became exhausted; a short distance in rear of all were bands of music with intervals of one hundred yards. Large sun-shades, with long spike handles stuck in the soil, afforded considerable shade for the musicians. As the music from these bamboo instruments resounded o’er the meadows, each planter moved forward one step, at the same time placing a rice shoot in the soil, with the utmost uniformity and in absolute harmony with the band. This was one of the most interesting sights I have ever seen; the progress these natives made was wonderful; besides, each seemed to be getting a great deal of enjoyment out of life. It reminded me of calisthenics in the navy, where they execute the movements of their exercise to the strains of a familiar march. It was nearly time for the rainy season, and we were making our last circuit. Cholera was prevalent throughout the Island of Luzon, and in many instances smallpox had been reported. A “Division” order made it a court-martial offence for any soldier in the jungle to drink water that had not been boiled. This order, however, was not very stringently adhered to. Reports of deaths from cholera were received daily, in many instances soldiers being the victims. Whenever we found it convenient to boil water we did, but never went thirsty waiting for boiled water.