1. I entered the college of Santo Thomàs for the third time, and that time it was to teach the morning classes in theology. The last of April of the following year, the archbishop assigned Don Christoval Sarmiento, cura of Nuestra Señora de Guia, as visitor of Mindoro. He asked me to go in his company, and he did not have to beg me urgently, for the air at the college was very bad for me. The father provincial gave his consent, and, having taken one of my pupils as associate, we all went up-stream together, and then crossed over to the sea; and, on the day of the Cross in May, I preached in Bacò. The devotion of the Indians to the cross is very remarkable; they venerate and celebrate it to the greatest degree imaginable. There is no Indian village which is not full of crosses, and the Indians set up and fix them with great neatness. As we entered the first visita on our way up-stream, we were overtaken by a furious storm, and passed a miserable night indeed in the boat, which was very small. For the second time we crossed over the mountain of the leeches, with great suffering. I had left the second visita until my return. A chief asked me to confess him, but I told him to wait a few days until my return, when I would have plenty of time. He insisted and begged me to hear him confess. I did so, and when I returned he was already dead. I considered that it was the result of his predestination. I remember that he confessed very well and with great tenderness of heart. 2. I reached the village with the beautiful location of which I have already written. But since the Camucones had in the preceding year captured the chief of it on his leaving Nanhoan, I found it changed now and all the people sad and disconsolate. I talked with his wife, who was in mourning, and confessed her. Before I had confessed her, it is true that she had never uncovered her face. Such sedateness and modesty as this is observed by many Indian women, even by villagers. I consoled her as well as I could. In another village before we reached that of Santiago, many Indians were assembled; we remained there for a considerable time. I noted there that the dogs barked excessively during the night, and, as it was a dangerous place on account of the Camucones, that caused some anxiety. I asked the Indians the reason for so much barking. They answered: "Father, there are many crocodiles in this river. When the dogs wish to cross over to the other side they gather in one spot and bark for a long time until they believe that the crocodiles have collected there (for it is a fact that is well known that crocodiles look for dogs as cats do for rats); and then, some of the dogs running above and some below, they cross over safe and secure from the crocodiles. That happens nightly, and consequently, there is no [cause for] anxiety when they are heard to bark." I wondered, and I remembered that I had read that the dogs of the Nile region do the same thing.