The only break in the monotony of several months of this life would occur when a detail, sent into the garrison for rations, would return, bringing us mail from the outside world and news from the company in quarters. Game abounded plentifully in this section of the island, and at night the weird grunt of a wild boar and the bark of a deer could be heard in the near-by jungle. Large vampires, darting overhead like phantom aeroplanes, were numerous here as in other islands of the Philippines. Moros approaching the outpost were compelled to leave their side-arms in the jungle. Quite a number desired to be friendly with the Americans; these were traders. They would bring in chickens, eggs, fruit, wild-fowl, venison, fish, roasted grasshoppers, and tuber. Eggs containing chickens, as in other parts of Mindanao and northern Luzon, were more valuable than fresh eggs. Tuber is a native beverage taken from the cocoanut tree, and has all the exhilarating effects of “Dry Monopole.” Thousands of monkeys infested the jungle surrounding the camp. On one occasion while returning from a boar hunt, something happened which nearly converted me to the Darwinian theory. Near the edge of a coffee plantation I spied a number of monkeys in a mango tree; raising my rifle I fired, dropping a monkey. The animal, merely wounded, came running toward me, bleeding from the chest and uttering a pitiful cry, then, leaning against a tree, placed its hands over the wound and, with a most pitiful and appealing expression, gazed up at me in tearful agony, as much as to say, “What the devil did I do to you?” I ended its suffering, and resolved never to shoot another monkey. While hunting wild-boar in company with Weismantle, a member of the detachment, we had come across a “wallow” in a ravine near the Rio Grande River. Weismantle, being an experienced huntsman, could tell that the “wallow” had recently been frequented by hogs; he said, “You take a position about forty feet on one side of the ravine, and I’ll be on the opposite side; sit perfectly quiet, don’t even smoke, as the boar is sure to return.” Following his directions to the letter, I sought the shade of a large grape-fruit tree, where, seated on a log with a bramble-bush blind, I awaited the arrival of the game.