On the way back, Mr. Segovia had a short conference with Doctor Bronson while the boys were riding ahead. It was evidently concerning Frank and Fred, as the Doctor assured his friend that the youths were both of excellent disposition, and could be relied upon in an emergency. "If you take them along," said he, "you will find they will be perfectly cool and self-possessed, and will not make the least interference with any of your plans." "In that case," the gentleman responded, "it is all right, and we will make the excursion to-morrow." Frank and Fred overheard the latter part of the conversation, but they were too well bred to ask any questions. They were satisfied to let events develop themselves, and meantime they devoted their attention to the practical matters that surrounded them. "What an interesting ride we've had!" said Fred, as they passed near a rice-field where the young plants were just pushing above the ground. "I might get tired of looking at these rice-fields after a while, but don't see any signs of it yet." "What I would like to see," Frank responded, "is a string of fields with all the different kinds of rice growing side by side. How many do you suppose there are?" "I can't tell, I'm sure." "One of the books we bought says there are more than thirty kinds of rice grown in the Philippine Islands, all quite distinct in color, form, and weight of the grain. They are divided into two classes--mountain rice and aquatic rice; but the mountain variety can be treated just like the aquatic rice, and it will grow." "Mountain rice," Fred continued, "grows on the higher ground, where it is not liable to inundations from the rivers, but the aquatic rice needs a great deal of water, and the fields must be very moist all the time it is growing, or till it gets near ripening. It is like the rice raised in the United States, and in Japan and China; and the rice-swamps of Luzon are probably just as unhealthy as those of the Southern States of America, that we used to hear so much about." "Do all the kinds of rice yield the same?" Frank asked. "Some of them are better than others," Fred answered; "at least the book says so. Some kinds return thirty, some forty, and some eighty fold--that is, from a bushel of seed they get thirty, forty, or eighty bushels. The best rice generally does not yield so well as the poorer varieties, so that what they make up in one way they lose in another by the end of the year." [Illustration: STACKING RICE IN THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS.] "When the rice is harvested it is put up in high stacks, with a roof of pandanus-leaves on top to keep out the wet. That must be a rice stack over there," said Fred, as he pointed to a circular enclosure a little distance away. "Yes, and there are several stacks with a fence around them, and a clump of bamboo-trees in the centre. I suppose they put the rice there to dry, and when it is ready it will be thrashed out."