Although isolated, Polloc was an ideal post, a health-giving resort with excellent water and trees teeming with tropical fruit. Game, such as wild boar, deer, and wild cattle, roamed at will throughout the island. The Moros of this island kept “Uncle Sam’s” soldiers guessing for several years, until finally subdued through the efforts of General Wood. Unlike the Filipino, the Moro is a brave warrior, preferring the open to jungle fighting. The Moros handle the spear, barong, and kreese with great skill, and, when not engaged in a game of monte, may be seen practising with these weapons of warfare. The nights in this island of the Celebes Sea commence immediately at sundown, there being no twilight; a calm serenity pervades the barrios after the shades of night have fallen, when natives gather under the drooping palms surrounding the nippa-shacks, around which the graceful coils of smoke ascend from a smudge kept burning to check the advance of the ever-annoying mosquito. Here, to the accompaniment of harp and guitar, the Filipino inhabitants (for there are many of these in Mindanao) sing quaint songs in the Tagalog or Visayan tongue. Dancing girls, bearing such names as Oleano, Agripina, Donaziti, and Juana, perform the “Fandango” with bewitching contortions, gracefully tapping a tambourine and snapping the castanets to the music of the “La Paloma.” The village is dimly lighted by cocoanut oil, kerosene being a rarity in this section of the world. At such places we marines off duty gathered nightly, where, over a bottle of dulce tinto and box of alhambras, we spun yarns of our adventures, occasionally joining the señoritas in their late carousals, to the delight of the friendly Moros who inhabited the village. The Moros had become quite hostile in the Lake region, and a battle had been fought near what is now Camp Vicars on Lake Lanao, with dire results to the enemy; this had exercised every native warrior on the island to such an extent that it became necessary for the marines to re-establish an outpost overlooking the bay and the Amadao Valley. Having volunteered for this particular duty, we were ordered (one sergeant, two corporals, and ten privates) to pack everything of necessity pertaining to field-service on ponies and proceed to our destination. With a string of pack ponies, two Colt automatic and one machine gun, we set out for the site of the outpost amid deafening cheers from the garrison. We reached the knoll of a hill, a splendid point of vantage, seven miles distant from the town, from which we could view the entire surrounding country; here stood an old Spanish blockhouse, from which we flew “Old Glory,” and, after policing the ground, pitched tents, mounted the guns, posted a sentry, and were ready for action. The following day we were connected by telephone with the garrison and had cut the underbrush away from the knoll of the hill on which we were stationed.