The "company fund" is a great institution, and an "outfit" with a good fund is considered prosperous. This money goes for extras at the table, for baseball equipments, or for company mascots. The sergeant-major usually has charge of this disbursement, and the soldiers, though they grumble at his orders, can not help respecting him. The sergeant-major has been seasoned in the service. He is a ripe old fellow, and a warrior to the core. The company cook is also an important personage. It was the old cook at Balingasag--I think that he had served for twenty years--who fed me in the convent courtyard on _camotes_, egg-plant, and a chicken which he had stolen from a native. According to his theory, a soldier was a licensed robber, and the chicken should be classed as forage--not as plunder. He was a favorite among the officers, who used to get him started on his favorite grievance,--the condemnation by a board of survey of a certain army mule. "I liked that mule," he used to say. "He was the best mule that the service ever had." The nightly "argument," or "chewing the rag," is a favorite pastime in an isolated camp. Sitting around upon the army cots or chests, the soldiers will discuss some unimportant topic until "taps" sounds. I will admit that "Company M" was a disreputable lot. They never dressed up; frequently they went without their footgear; and they drank much _tuba_ with the natives. They took delight in teaching the small boys profanity, and they would shock the Filipinos by omitting bathing-suits when in the surf. They used to frighten the poor "niggers" half to death by trying to break through their houses on a dark night. Yet I believe that every Filipino was the soldier's friend, and I am sure I noticed not a few heart-broken _señoritas_ gathered at the shore when they departed. For my own part, I have always found the soldier generous, respectful, and polite. There was a great wag in the company, who, in some former walk of life, had figured as a circus clown. He also claimed to have been upon the stage in vaudeville. He had enlisted in the regimental band, but, through some change, had come to be bugler of M Company. He owned a mandolin, called the "potato bug"--a name suggested by the inlaid bowl. He had brought back to life a cracked guitar, which he had strung with copper wire obtained by "jawbone" at the _Chino_ store. It was an inspiration when he sang to the guitar accompaniment, "Ma Filipino Babe," or in a rich and melancholy voice, with the professional innuendo, "just to jolly the game along," a song entitled "Little Rosewood Casket." It is a sorry company that doesn't number in its roll a poet. Company M had a good poet. Local customs and the local atmosphere appealed to him, and he has thus recorded his impression of the Philippines: