Having purchased some eggs, she further attracted our attention by volunteering to fry them, and asking if we desired the albumen scrambled with the yolk. Her complexion was a study, for, although her hair and eyes were of raven black, her color was fair, with features resembling the Louisiana Creole. She set a very dainty repast, consisting of rice, fish, eggs, and fried plantains, and, suffice to say, we three――Kane, the pony, and myself――were exceedingly happy; the pony because he had reached the end of his journey, for there were no flags put up that day. Before our departure we exchanged addresses; I found her name to be Carmen Lemaire, which further increased my curiosity. Having asked permission to pay her a visit some evening in the future she informed me that it would afford her much pleasure to have me call, but that several natives were very jealous of her, including a cousin whose ire, if aroused by my calling after sundown, might jeopardize my life; therefore any other than an impromptu daylight visit would be imprudent for her to approve. Assuring the señorita a little boastfully of my utter disregard for the marksmanship of her suitors, of my utmost confidence in fate, and my inability to call during the day she set an evening in the following week for me to see her. Bidding adieu, we left this hacienda with its fair inhabitant, and journeyed on our route. The following day the pony had to go some to make up for lost time, and it required the best part of three days to complete the work. Our return trip was the longest way round, but not the sweetest way home. On our return to Lolomboy we told the story of having met the beautiful señorita. The old Filipino Sebastian knew of her, and told us she had been selected to act as queen of the “Grande Fiesta” at the Manila Carnival. The following Thursday evening before sundown, “knighthood was in flower.” Having selected and placed some choice literature in my saddle-bags, I mounted a pony and galloped off for the scene of my triumph with the visage of the charming Carmen before me. The iridescent hues of the vanishing sun tinted the western horizon, as I reined my pony into a verdant trail, winding with the course of the river, almost hidden from view by the high grass that lined the trail on either side. The moon at its full shone through the cocoanuts hanging in clusters from the tall trees, as I dismounted at the Lemaire hacienda in the barrio of Montao. A Filipino patrol passing by took charge of the pony, thereby relieving my mind of the fear of its being stolen by ladrones, who lurk in the mountain districts of Luzon.