CHAPTER XXII

THE GOVERNMENT OF THE NON-CHRISTIAN TRIBES (continued)

The province of Mindoro includes numerous small islands, all peopled

by Tagálogs, and the main island of Mindoro, which has a narrow broken

fringe of Tagálog settlements along its coast. Its whole interior

is populated, so far as it is inhabited at all, by the Mangyans,

a primitive semi-nomadic tribe which is of Malayan origin but has

considerable Negrito blood. No one knows even approximately how many

of them there are, for although the island has been crossed in several

different places, much of it is still quite unexplored. In most of

the interior regions thus far visited the population is very sparse,

but one quite thickly settled district has been found. It is believed

that the Mangyans number something like 15,000.

The Filipino settlements were so disorderly, filthy, and unhealthy

that the energies of the first governor, Captain R. G. Offley, and

those of his successor, Captain Louis G. Van Schaick, were to a large

extent expended in efforts for the betterment of the Tagálogs. It

is a pleasure to record the fact that these efforts met with a very

large degree of success.

The condition of most of the Tagálog towns is now good. Mangarin

is the chief exception to this statement. Its surroundings are such

as to make it impossible successfully to combat malaria, from which

every one of its inhabitants suffers. We are still endeavouring to

persuade its unfortunate people to move to a healthy site!

Governor Offley did some work for the Mangyans. They have advanced

but slightly beyond the Negritos in civilization. Many of them live

under shelters not worthy of the name of huts, and in the vicinity

of Mt. Halcon even the women are clad only in clouts. Houses are

placed singly in the dense forests, or at the most are gathered in

very small groups. It proved a most difficult undertaking to persuade

any considerable number of Mangyans to gather together and construct

decent dwellings. It had been their custom to abandon their forest

homes whenever a death occurred, leaving behind all their belongings,

and perhaps even changing their names on the theory that their old

names were unlucky and new ones might prove advantageous.

With admirable patience Governor Offley organized a little village

called Lalauigan on the south coast of Mindoro. Lalauigan has

prospered. It is very clean; the houses of its Mangyan residents are

quite presentable. The neighbouring fields are planted with corn and

rice. It has a school, and the children prove to be apt pupils.

Another Mangyan village, organized near the west coast, was

short-lived. The Tagálog Filipinos look with great disfavour on

the gathering of the Mangyans into settlements where they can be

protected, as this renders it difficult to hold them in a state of

peonage. Whenever Governor Offley got a little group together, they

did their best to scatter it. In this instance they passed the word

that smallpox had broken out in a neighbouring Tagálog village. All

Mangyans are deathly afraid of this disease, and this particular set

built a great fire, jumped through the flames to purify themselves

from contagion, took to the hills, and have not been seen since!

While in hearty sympathy with the admirable work which was being

done among the Tagálogs, I was dissatisfied with the failure to push

explorations in the interior more actively and to get more closely

in touch with the wild inhabitants. When the Tagálog settlements

had at last been put in really good condition, I gave Governor Van

Schaick, who had succeeded Governor Offley, positive instructions

that more attention must be paid to the Mangyans. He then began

active explorations, and pushed them with considerable success up

to the time when he was compelled to tender his resignation by the

terms of the Army Appropriation Bill for 1913, which necessitated

his return to his regiment. Prior to his departure he succeeded in

establishing a new Mangyan village which has continued to prosper up

to the present time. His successor, Governor R. E. Walters, was kept

from actively pushing exploration work during the past "dry" season,

by unprecedented rains.

Road and trail construction began several years ago and is going

forward as rapidly as limited funds will permit.

The great trouble with the Tagálogs of Mindoro is that nature has

been too kind to them. They have only to plough a bit of ground

at the beginning of the rainy season, scatter a little rice on it,

and harvest the crop when ripe, to be able to live idly the rest of

the year, and too many of them adopt this course. However, some good

towns, like Pinamalayan, are waking up as the result of immigration

from Marinduque.

Two great services have been rendered to the more orderly of the

inhabitants of Mindoro, which was, in Spanish days, a rendezvous

for evil-doers from Luzón. Indeed, it was the most disorderly

province north of Mindanao. An excellent state of public order has

been established, and there has not been an armed ladrone [27] in

the province for years. It was famous for its "bad climate." We have

shown that its climate is good, making its towns really healthful by

merely cleaning them up.

The establishment of a great modern sugar estate on the southwest

coast has doubled the daily wage, and given profitable employment

to all who wanted to work, and the people are beginning to bestir

themselves. The public schools, of which every town has one, are

materially assisting the awakening now in progress.

Palawan, like Mindoro, is made up of one large island, which bears

the name of the province, and a number of smaller ones. Indeed, it

includes more small islands than does any other province, with the

possible exception of Moro.

The bulk of its Christian population are found on the smaller islands,

several of which are very thickly settled.

The non-Christian inhabitants are divided between three tribes,--the

Moros, Tagbanuas and Bataks. The latter are Negritos of very pure

blood. Their number is quite limited. They extend across the island

from the east coast to the west in the region north of Bahia Honda.

Until within a short time there have been Moro settlements scattered

along both east and west coasts of the southern third of the main

island. The Moro population of Palawan is largely composed of renegades

who have been driven out of Joló, Tawi Tawi, Cagayan de Joló, British

North Borneo and Banguey by their own people because of infractions of

the laws of their tribe. When the province was organized, they were

not cultivating a hectare of land amongst them. They lived in part

by fishing, but chiefly on what they stole, or on the products of the

labour of the hill people in the interior, many of whom they enslaved

or held in a state of peonage, taking their rice and other agricultural

products with or without giving compensation, as seemed to them good.

The hill people, who occupy the higher mountains in the interior of

southern Palawan, and who in the central and northern portions of the

island extend down to the very coast, are known as Paluanes in the

south and as Tagbanuas elsewhere. Tagbanuas are also found on Dumarán

and Linapácan, and quite generally throughout the Calamianes Islands,

especially on Culion and Busuanga. I have failed to discover any real

tribal differences between the Paluanes and the Tagbanuas and believe

that they should be classed as one people, although the Paluanes are

more inclined to stand up for their rights than are the Tagbanuas, and

by using blow guns and poisoned arrows have succeeded in keeping the

Moros out of the interior highlands. They were, however, long forced

to trade with the Moros in order to obtain cloth, steel, salt and other

things not produced in their own country, and so were at their mercy.

The Tagbanuas are a rather timid and docile people, giving evidence

of a considerable amount of Negrito blood. They are at times quite

industrious, and raise considerable quantities of rice and camotes,

but live, in part, on fish, game and forest products.

Communication in this province was very difficult. The main island

of Palawan, which is some two hundred fifty miles in length and very

narrow, extends in a northeasterly and southwesterly direction, and as

a result both of its coasts are swept by each monsoon so that there

are only about two months of the year when travel by sea in small

boats is comfortable and safe. At the outset there was not a mile of

trail on the island. This latter condition is being rapidly remedied.

The first governor appointed for the newly established province of

Palawan was Lieutenant E. Y. Miller, U. S. A., a man of splendid

physique, tireless energy, and indomitable courage.

Governor Miller set to work very actively to better the condition of

the Filipinos and to establish friendly and helpful relations with

the non-Christians.

The bulk of the Christians are unusually poor and ignorant and

many of them were held in a miserable state of peonage by a few

caciques. Vigorous efforts extending through a long term of years

have weakened the grip of the caciques, but have by no means broken it.

At an early date the new governor won the admiration of the Moros, who

like courage, by a series of very brave acts. A number of constabulary

soldiers who were coasting along the west shore of Palawan in a

sail-boat went ashore, leaving their rifles on board guarded by two

or three of their comrades. They also left several Moros on the boat,

and the latter, watching their opportunity, killed the guards and

got away with the rifles, taking them to Dato Tumay, their chief,

who armed his people with them.

Governor Miller, with Captain Louden, of the constabulary company

concerned, promptly attacked Tumay's place and drove him into the

hills. Tumay took refuge in a Tagbanua village, never dreaming that

he would be pursued into the mountain fastnesses. Miller and his

companions succeeded in getting into the place before Tumay knew

they were in the vicinity, and there followed a fight to the death

at close quarters. Two soldiers, standing one to the right and one to

the left of Governor Miller, were shot dead, but he was not scratched.

On a number of other occasions he displayed a bravery approaching

recklessness. Hearing that a fleet of some fifty Moro boats had put

to sea on a piratical expedition, he embarked in a twenty-foot launch

accompanied only by a captain of constabulary, and the two of them

ran down and disarmed the pirates and sent them home. They nearly sank

their tiny launch with the dead weight of the weapons which they took

on board. The thing seems preposterous, and only Miller's extraordinary

moral influence over these unruly people made it humanly possible.

When I visited Palawan on my regular inspection trip in the year 1909,

I found Mrs. Miller much worried about her husband, who was absent from

the capital, having gone to arrest some Moro murderers at Lara. As

usual, he had taken with him only a constabulary captain and three

or four soldiers, and Mrs. Miller feared that he might be killed.

I hastened down the coast of the island at the full speed of my

steamer, keeping a close watch for his boat, and finally located

it at Bonabóna, where he had succeeded in arresting several of the

criminals. On his way down he had stopped at Lara and had learned

that a brother of the local chief, Dato Pula, was responsible for the

murder, having ordered it and paid the assassins who committed it,

one of whom was lurking in the vicinity, while others had gone to

Bonabóna. Governor Miller called upon Dato Pula to deliver both his

brother and the murderer, who was then at Lara, and stated that he

would be back on a certain day to receive them. As he insisted on

returning at the appointed time and attempting to arrest these men,

I took him on my steamer, together with his American companion and

one constabulary soldier. The other soldiers remained on his boat to

guard the prisoners he had already taken.

We returned to Lara, but were unable to land in front of the

town as a heavy surf was thundering on the beach. A mile to the

north we found a sheltered spot where we could safely disembark

and our little party, consisting of Governor Miller armed with a

six-shooter, a constabulary captain armed with a Winchester shotgun

and a six-shooter, a constabulary soldier armed with a carbine,

ex-Insurgent Colonel Pablo Tecson armed with my double-barrelled

shotgun, Governor Pack of the Mountain Province, my brother George

S. Worcester, and my stenographer, all of whom were without weapons,

and myself carrying an automatic Winchester rifle, marched on the

town. Governor Miller sent the soldier ahead to warn the Moros that

they must meet us unarmed. A small reception committee did so.

On the very outskirts of Lara we waded a creek nearly up to our necks

in water, then marched up the street and entered Pula's house. Just as

we did so I saw twenty or thirty fully armed Moros come in on the run

and hastily conceal themselves in one of the numerous neighbouring

houses. I further promptly discovered that two rooms partitioned

off in the corners of the great living room of Pula's house were

crowded full of men armed to the teeth, and that a second-story

room, immediately under the roof and over our heads, was similarly

occupied. I asked Governor Pack quietly to ascertain how many of

the houses in the village were occupied by fully equipped fighting

men, and he soon informed me that every one of them was packed. We

estimated that there were several hundred warriors in town, which

meant that Pula had raked the coast of the island north and south

for miles and brought in every male Moro big enough to wield a weapon.

We seated ourselves on a table, back to back and facing out, with

our own weapons very handy, and had a talk with Pula which lasted

until late in the afternoon. Standing within striking distance of us

most of the day, were two stalwart Moros, each of whom had a kriss

dagger firmly gripped in his right hand and concealed between his

folded arms. When one remembers that the average Moro fighter does

not seem to know when he is dead, but keeps on doing damage after he

ought to be busily occupied in passing to the other world, it will

be seen that our situation left much to be desired.

Under the pretext of sending for a phonograph with which to entertain

the crowd while our negotiations continued, I communicated with

the captain of our steamer, advising him of the facts. He got out

ammunition for his two one-pounder rapid-fire guns and took up a

position immediately in front of the town. We did not ask him for

reënforcements, believing that any attempt on his part to send them

would precipitate an attack on us.

Never did I pass a more peculiar, or a more unpleasant, day. Miller

steadfastly insisted that Pula's brother and the hired assassin be

given up. Pula produced two thoroughly cowed Tagbanuas whom he had

induced by threats to declare that they had committed the murders,

and most emphatically declined to turn over either his brother or

the true murderer. Our discussions were punctuated by tunes played

on the phonograph which created great excitement among the Moros,

some of whom got up and danced to the music!

Finally, late in the afternoon, Pula gave in, turned the murderer

over to us, and promised to turn over his brother, but said that

the latter must first be allowed to go home to get some clothes,

and that he would then send him on board our ship.

We improved this our first opportunity to beat a retreat without

losing face. Our Moro "friends" bid us good-by on the beach, then

armed themselves and followed us at a short distance as we marched

back to the landing place where our launch was pounding in the surf,

awaiting our return. Three strong fighting parties came out of the

dense vegetation which bordered the beach immediately after we had

passed the places where they were concealed. They had obviously been

waiting there to cut off our retreat if trouble started, and could

most certainly have done it. In fact, they could have shot us down

from the brush without showing themselves.

It required all the self-control which I could muster to keep my

back toward the strong and constantly growing group of armed men who

followed us, and to look unconcerned, yet I knew, as did every other

member of the party, that our seeing the light of another day probably

depended on our ability to do both things. The slightest evidence of

alarm would have precipitated a fight which could have had but one

outcome for us.

When opposite the launch, we turned and faced the Moros and then the

several members of the party went aboard, one at a time. Never did a

widening strip of water look better to me than did that which finally

began to separate us from the shore.

To our great amazement Dato Pula kept his word and sent his brother

on board!

No man ever laboured more diligently for the good of alien peoples

than did Governor Miller. He evolved a wise plan for improving the

condition of the Tagbanuas living in the vicinity of Puerto Princesa,

many of whom, as is so often the case with the uncivilized peoples of

the Philippines, were reduced to a state of peonage by their Filipino

neighbours. A large reservation was set aside for their exclusive use,

and they were persuaded to retire to it. At the cost of infinite labour

and pains Governor Miller built there a fine set of school buildings,

and the Bureau of Education started a school which gives instruction

in English, arithmetic and manual training to Tagbanua boys and girls.

Governor Miller's keen interest in this project led him to stop to

inspect the progress of the work when returning from a long trip around

the island. In the face of a coming storm he ascended the Aborlan River

to the school site, where he remained until after dark, oblivious

of the fact that a tremendous downpour of rain in the neighbouring

mountains had produced a sudden flood in the river. Returning to

his launch, he jumped on board and cast off before the engine was

started. The current swept the launch away like a straw, carried it in

close to the bank, and an overhanging branch, which ordinarily would

have been high above the water, struck the governor a stunning blow

on the head, knocking him overboard. He never came to the surface,

and twenty-four hours elapsed before his body was recovered.

Mr. John H. Evans, then serving as lieutenant-governor of Bontoc,

in the Mountain Province, was appointed in his place, and I took

him around the Palawan group of islands to introduce him to his

unruly subjects. On arrival at Puerto Princesa we were told that the

occupants of a fleet of Moro boats were already raiding and killing

along the southern coast of the island, and we accordingly took on

board Captain Moynihan of the Philippine Scouts, with thirty of his

soldiers. The report proved unfounded, but nevertheless the soldiers

came in very handily.

I landed at Culasián Bay on the west coast, meaning to ascend a river

to the settlement of Dato Tumay, the man whose people had on a former

occasion fought Governor Miller with captured constabulary rifles and

been soundly whipped. Finding no one on the beach, we walked up the

river bank for a short distance to a group of half a dozen tightly

closed houses which looked as if they might belong to fishermen. Here

we were met by a splendidly dressed glad-hand delegation, who greeted

us rather too effusively. My suspicion was further aroused by the fact

that only three of them carried weapons, in sight at least. The weapons

of a Moro chief are just as much a part of his full dress as are the

garments he wears. I had a few moments' friendly conversation with

these people, during which I noticed that several of them displayed

a marked inclination to get behind me. This I did not like, so took

up a position with my back to the river. Presently I suggested that

we had come to call on Dato Tumay. The following conversation ensued:--

"You cannot go to see him."

"Why not? Are the trails in bad condition?"

"There are no trails."

"Are you not Dato Tumay's people?"

"Yes."

"How did you come down if there are no trails?"

"We came down the river."

"Very well, we will go up the river."

"You cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"There are no boats to carry you."

"How did you come down?"

"In those boats. [Pointing out two tiny dugouts barely able to carry

two men each.] You and one of your friends can go up in them if you

like. Two of our men will paddle you."

This proposition did not seem attractive to me, so I suggested that I

would take a little walk up the river. I had been positively assured

that there was no other boat in the vicinity, but at the very first

turn discovered a suspicious looking trail running up into the bushes

and following it found a fully rigged war-canoe over which freshly

cut brush had been hastily thrown. I suggested to the Moros that this

looked very much like a boat. They replied that it leaked. I asked them

to put it into the water, stating that I liked to see boats leak. Not

a Moro stirred. We had brought twenty-five soldiers ashore with us,

as Tumay's reputation was by no means of the best, and I now called to

some of them to come and put the boat into the river. In passing back

of the group of Moros, one of these men stubbed his toe on the shaft

of a lance which was hidden in the grass, and fell on his nose. He

raised the lance as he recovered his feet, then stooped and picked

up a second one, trailed them behind him until he reached a position

in front of me and dropped them on the ground. Both had the sheaths

removed from their long steel heads. Another soldier kicked around

in the grass a bit and produced a serpent kriss which had been drawn

from its scabbard. Still another fished up a baróng. [28]

I asked the ranking Moro present what was the meaning of these weapons,

concealed at our very feet. He said that they were afraid that we

would steal them and had therefore hidden them. I asked him whether

any white man had ever stolen anything from them, and also why they

had hidden them there, where we were likely to cut our feet on them,

instead of in the forest which was not fifty yards away. Obviously

there was no satisfactory answer to these questions and he had no time

to attempt any, for one of the soldiers stooped down and pulled out of

the grass from beside his very hand a forty-five caliber single-action

revolver, cocked and with all six cylinders loaded. Fearing to be taken

at a disadvantage, I said to the soldiers, "Make these men sit down,

and search the place for arms."

The soldiers repeatedly ordered the Moros to sit down and the order was

translated to them in their own language by my interpreter. Not a man

obeyed. On the contrary, one of them turned his back and started off

at a quick pace, disregarding repeated orders to halt. Theoretically

he should have been shot.

Practically, I had ordered the soldiers not to fire under any

circumstances unless some Moro drew a weapon. Mr. Olney Bondurant,

assistant to the provincial governor for work among the Moros, had

been taking a hasty look back of the houses and was returning to

tell me that they were full of armed men. The Moro above mentioned,

just before meeting Bondurant, reached into a bush and drew out two

of the cruel fighting knives known as baróngs. They were in their flat

sheaths, and lay one on top of the other. Snatching the upper one from

its scabbard, he struck a wicked blow at Bondurant as the latter passed

him on the trail. Bondurant, who was quick as a cat, dodged the blow,

then whirled and shot his assailant. Instantly armed men with drawn

weapons began to boil out of the houses on the side farthest from us,

and those soldiers who were in a position to see them promptly opened

fire. Other Moros also began to pop up at the edge of the forest,

and we had a bit of a scrimmage, lively enough while it lasted. I

took no part in it, but with three soldiers helping me compelled

eleven men of the group with whom we had been talking to sit down,

and kept them sitting until the unpleasantness was over, as I wanted

to talk with them. I then told the head man to stand up.

He was very reluctant to do this, obviously expecting to be shot,

but no such fate was in store for him. On the contrary, I gave him a

lecture, told him where certain wounded and certain dead Moros were

to be found, and instructed him and his people first to care for the

wounded; second, to bury the dead; third, to go to Tumay's place and

tell him that although I had come to make a friendly call on him,

my party had been attacked by his people, but that the only men who

had been hurt were those who had endeavoured to use their weapons on

us. I furthermore directed him to tell Tumay that he must come across

the island to the place where Mr. Bondurant lived, and explain this

extraordinary occurrence. We then took our departure, marching down

the beach a mile to our launch, and expecting every moment to be

fired on from the dense forest close at hand.

We learned from a wounded Moro that our party had been mistaken at

a distance for that of Governor Miller. On his last trip around the

island he had been threatened by Tumay, who surrounded him with

a strong body of armed men and talked to him in a very insulting

manner. Miller, who had but a single companion, knew himself to

be at Tumay's mercy, and believing that he was in grave danger of

being killed and that only a bluff could save him, slapped Tumay's

face vigorously and then gave him a strong piece of his mind. Tumay,

overawed at such temerity, allowed him to depart in safety. Before

leaving, Governor Miller exercised his lawful authority to order Tumay

to take his people and move to the east coast of the island. [29]

Tumay begged that his people be allowed to harvest some rice which he

said they had planted, and Governor Miller, not knowing whether or not

the statement was true, and not being in a position to investigate it,

allowed him two weeks to be spent in this way.

I was about Governor Miller's size. When I landed Tumay's people

mistook me for him, and thought that he was returning with soldiers

to punish them for having disobeyed him, or to enforce his order that

they move to a more accessible place. Hence the plan for the attack,

which was rather clever. While the reception committee entertained

us, the men concealed in the woods were to open on us. As we turned

to deal with them the ones hidden in the houses were to attack us

from the rear, and the reception committee were then to join in. When

they found themselves mistaken as to the make-up of the party, which

was larger than they had expected, there was delay and confusion,

and the attack fizzled.

A few days later Tumay actually started across the island in obedience

to my instructions, but on the way he met two recalcitrant Moro chiefs

who encouraged him to stand out, saying that they and their people

would help him fight the Americans, and he turned back. I accordingly

asked that a hundred scouts be sent after him, and this was done, fifty

of them marching over the mountains to cut off his retreat and fifty

coming on a coast-guard boat which was intended to serve as a base of

operations and afford a place to which injured men might be brought

for treatment. Strict instructions had been given that there was to be

no firing, except in self-defence, when women or children were liable

to be hit. These orders were strictly adhered to, and Tumay was twice

allowed to escape when he could have been shot down if it had not been

for the danger of killing Moro women and children. Ultimately, after

the non-combatants had surrendered, his armed band was overtaken early

in the morning, and fired from ambush into the approaching scouts. The

return fire killed or wounded most of them, but Tumay got away. It

was stated by some of his followers that he was badly wounded, but

this proved to be untrue. A little later he voluntarily surrendered,

as he had been deserted by his people and was reduced to dire straits.

The misconduct of Tumay and his men gave me a reason for moving

the Moros from the west coast of Palawan, where they were living in

mangrove or nipa swamps. It was hard to approach their settlements

under any circumstances, and very dangerous to do so if they were

disposed to be hostile. The west coast of Palawan was a no-man's land,

difficult of access on account of weather conditions and numberless

uncharted reefs. It had long been a safe haven for evil-doers who

fled from other portions of the Moro country to escape the vengeance

of their fellows, and there was no possibility of compelling them

to abandon their evil practices unless they were transferred to more

accessible regions.

Governor Evans, with my approval, now issued the necessary

instructions to them, and they were all moved to the other side

of the island, together with their household goods and chattels of

every description. Once there they were assisted in procuring building

materials, and were fed until such time as they were able to take care

of themselves. Only the old, the infirm, and women and children who

could not support themselves by working were given food gratis. Trail

construction was inaugurated, and all able-bodied persons were given

an opportunity to engage in this or in other honest labor for a good

wage payable either in money or in rice.

At the end of a year I visited these Moros at their new homes near

Bonabóna, going ashore without a weapon of any sort, and finding them

more friendly than could reasonably have been anticipated. I sent for

old Tumay and had a very frank talk with him about past differences,

in the course of which I asked him if he had had enough. He assured me

that he had, and I then suggested that we forget the troubles which

were behind us and try to get on better in future. He promised to do

his part, and has faithfully kept his word.

In August, 1912, I again visited the Moros of this region and to

my great surprise was greeted as if I were a member of their royal

family. They carried me ashore through the surf in a chair covered

with a fine piece of purple brocade. Two men equipped respectively

with a five-foot blue and a five-foot yellow umbrella, struggled with

each other to see who should protect my delicate complexion from the

sun. Wonder of wonders, the wives of the ranking chiefs were present in

a dancing pavilion which had been erected for our benefit, this being

the first time that these women had ever shown themselves in public. I

learned that Hadji Mohammed [30] had explained to them that the women

of other nations were getting progressive, and had argued that they

ought to follow suit. The poor things were dreadfully frightened,

and sat with their backs toward us, covering their faces with gayly

colored cloths if we so much as glanced toward them, but they were

there, anyhow!

At noon the Moros sat down with us to a fine luncheon of their own

providing. This is the first time in my eighteen years of residence

in the Philippines that I have known a Moro to sit at meat with a

white man, or for that matter with any person not a Mohammedan.

After the meal several chiefs insisted on my visiting them

individually, and I found that entertainment had been provided at each

of their houses. Old Dato Tumay, with only one woman to help him,

had built the best house in town, and was cultivating with his own

hands the largest piece of land farmed by any Moro in Palawan. He

was greatly pleased when I complimented him on the good example he

was setting. Later I referred to it in my annual report, and the

assistant to the governor for work among the Moros read to him what I

had said. The old man was delighted. He immediately called the local

chiefs together and delivered a long lecture on the advisability of

settling down and tilling the soil. The principal request that the

Moros made, on the occasion of this visit, was that they be furnished

agricultural implements and seeds.

Tumay was very ill with dysentery. From the ship I sent him medicine

and a case of milk. He recovered in due time.

Moros are uncertain people to deal with, but I believe that we are

now on the right road so far as concerns those inhabiting Palawan,

and that with a continuance of the present policy there will be no

further serious trouble with them.

The Tagbanua reservation and the school established in connection

with it have proved a great success. A large number of Tagbanuas have

settled on the reserve and are farming industriously, while their

boys and girls are making rapid progress in school, where they obtain

practical instruction that will make them better and more useful men

and women.

In Southern Palawan the wild people of the highlands, who have never

yet allowed any one to enter their country, are being persuaded to

come down to the coast by the establishment of little government

trading posts where they can sell their few products at good prices,

and can purchase what they need at a reasonable figure.

All in all, things are moving forward steadily in Palawan,

although many of the Filipino settlements are still filthy and

unsanitary. Encouraged by the results obtained in Mindoro, I have

inaugurated an active campaign to compel these people to clean up,

and anticipate success. One thing which renders it difficult to deal

with some of the Filipinos of this province is that in its more remote

districts they are showing a marked tendency to scatter out into the

forests where they make caiñgins, or forest clearings, and live in tiny

huts. Little by little they are gravitating back to the barbarism from

which they originally emerged, and under existing laws they are free

to do this if they like. I regret that this tendency is by no means

confined to the province of Palawan. The Spaniards dealt with it in no

gentle manner, but we are powerless to do more than argue against it.

The cost of the work in Palawan in valuable human lives has been

dear. No one can at the outset fill the place of a man like Governor

Miller, who had become invaluable not only as a result of his personal

characteristics, but because of his years of experience and of the

regard in which he was held by his people. Unfortunately his life

is not the only one which has been sacrificed for the good of the

inhabitants of this province. Mr. W. B. Dawson, who organized the

work of the Tagbanua Industrial School and was in a fair way to

make a success of it, died of malignant malarial fever contracted at

his post of duty. Mr. William M. Wooden, who succeeded him, in his

anxiety to return more quickly to his post after a brief absence,

leaped overboard from a launch and was drowned while trying to swim

ashore. Mr. Olney Bondurant, assistant to the provincial governor,

who did admirable work among the Moros and the Tagbanuas in Southern

Palawan, and though suffering from dangerous illness never gave up,

but rendered service in the field on the very day of his death,

also fell a victim to pernicious malaria.

If the results obtained by these splendid men, who amid lonely

surroundings and in the face of manifold discouragements, bravely

and effectively carried on their country's work, are to be permanent

results, then I hold that the price has not been too dear, but if

they are to be destroyed by the premature withdrawal of American

control these sacrifices are pathetic indeed.

All of the territory in Northern Mindanao east of Dapitan and north

of the eighth parallel of latitude was at the outset divided between

the provinces of Surigao and Misamis. It is generally conceded that

these provinces had been worse governed under American rule by their

Filipino officials than have any others, and it was to be anticipated

that, under such circumstances, their very numerous non-Christian

inhabitants would prove to have been very badly mistreated. Sinister

rumours reached me from time to time as to what was occurring, but

I had no competent persons whom I could send to make investigations

on the ground, and intended to defer action until I could go myself.

Matters were finally brought to a crisis by reports from Catholic

priests, school-teachers and other reliable persons setting forth

a condition of affairs which seemed to demand immediate remedial

action. The commission had previously made a liberal sum available for

work among the Bukidnon people of Misamis, and I had endeavoured to

bring about the prosecution of this work by the Filipino provincial

officials, but my efforts had been fruitless. Not one centavo of the

funds appropriated had ever been expended. No Filipino provincial

official had so much as visited the main Bukidnon country, the

borders of which were distant less than three hours' ride from the

provincial capital.

The Bukidnon people are industrious. They raise a large part of the

coffee, hemp and cacao exported from Cagayan, the capital and the

principal port of Misamis. They were being robbed when they sold their

produce. A common procedure was to instruct them that they must sell

to certain individuals at absurdly low prices, and if they did not

promptly obey, to bring charges of sedition against them and throw

them into jail. As a matter of fact, they hardly knew the meaning of

the word sedition.

Depredations upon them were by no means confined to the town of

Cagayan de Misamis. Filipinos from the coast invaded their territory,

debauching them with vino and purchasing their property when they were

drunk; getting them into crooked gambling games and cheating them,

or swaggering around armed with revolvers and so terrorizing them that

they surrendered their belongings. It was common for a Filipino to go

into the Bukidnon country with nothing but the clothes on his back,

and soon to return with three or four carabaos heavily laden with hemp,

coffee, cacao, or gutta percha.

Although the provincial governor had appointed, in some instances, men

whom he had never seen as presidentes of settlements, the settlements

were in reality without government, and their discouraged and disgusted

people were betaking themselves to the mountains whence they had been

brought years before by Jesuit missionary priests. The wilder members

of the Bukidnon tribe, and the Manobos in the southern part of the

province, who had never abandoned their mountain homes, were preying

upon their neighbours, and committing crimes of violence undisturbed.

In the Agusan River valley conditions were nearly as bad. The

people along the main stream were for the most part broken-spirited

Manobos. Their settlements had been parcelled out among the members

of the municipal council of Butuan to be plundered. The activities

of these "Christian" gentlemen had been such that a number of Manobo

villages were already completely abandoned, while the people of

others were gradually betaking themselves to secure hiding-places in

the trackless forests which stretch east and west from the banks of

the Agusan.

Both in the Bukidnon and in the Manobo country the trade in bad vino

was being actively pushed. The principal business on the Agusan River

at that time was shipping it up-stream. Opium was being imported in

considerable quantities from Cebu. The use of this drug was already

established among the people of Butuan, and was gradually spreading

up the river. The wilder Manobos, who lived some distance back from

the stream, and the Mandayas along its upper waters, were killing

and plundering without let or hindrance.

These statements, coming as they did from absolutely reliable

witnesses, convinced me that I had allowed work for non-Christians in

other parts of the archipelago to interfere unduly with investigations

which I should have made in this region. As the legislation under

which we were working for the betterment of the wild people had now

taken final form, all that was necessary in order to begin active

operations looking to the correction of these untoward conditions

was to cut off a province from Surigao and Misamis and organize it

under the Special Provincial Government Act. In view of the relative

unimportance of the Filipino population in Misamis and Surigao, and

of the lamentable conditions which had arisen there under Filipino

provincial officials elected in accordance with the provisions of

the Provincial Government Act, I suggested that both provinces be

reorganized under the Special Provincial Government Act. This would

have had the effect of making their officials appointive. American

governors who would have protected the non-Christian inhabitants

could have been put in office. Unfortunately, the first session of

the Philippine Legislature was about to be held, the assemblymen

having already been elected. Every member of the commission present,

American and Filipino, agreed with me that the course which I suggested

would be in the interest of the inhabitants of these two provinces,

but they all shied off when it came to taking the needed action

because of the political hullabaloo which would most certainly have

resulted. I was forced to accept the best compromise I could get,

and a law was passed providing for the establishment of the province

of Agusan with two sub-provinces to be known respectively as Butuan

and Bukidnon. Butuan took in the whole Agusan River valley as far

south as the eighth parallel of latitude, and east and west to the

crests of the two watersheds. It also included some territory on the

west coast of the northern peninsula of Mindanao. Bukidnon included

all of the territory inhabited by the people of the same name, and

that of some wild Manobos in central Mindanao.

Armed with the law creating the new province, I proceeded to

investigate conditions on the ground, and actually to establish the

provincial government. At the town of Butuan, situated about five

miles up the Agusan River, and accessible to good-sized steamers, I

was met by Frederick Johnson, a captain in the Philippine constabulary

who had had wide experience in dealing with the non-Christian tribes

of the Moro Province and had been very successful in this work. At

my request he had been appointed governor of the Province of Agusan,

of which the town of Butuan was the capital.

We hired a launch, driven by a one-cylinder engine, from a man named

Wantz, and in it proceeded up the river, taking the owner along to

run the boat. It was paid for by the day, and I was warned before I

started that Wantz had his own ways of lengthening journeys. I soon

discovered that this was true. Before starting I had indicated the

settlement which must be reached before dark, but the engine soon began

to wheeze and thump dolefully. It happened that I knew something about

gasoline engines, and this one sounded to me as if it were running with

the spark advanced too far, but I could not discover the adjusting

mechanism, so exercised diplomacy, involving Wantz in a discussion

of the intricacies of modern gasoline engines, and stating that I

had an automobile with a very convenient attachment for advancing and

retarding the spark. He promptly and proudly showed me the device on

his engine for the same purpose. It was hidden away where I could not

have found it. After he had instructed me in its operation I quietly

retarded the spark, and the engine began to work in a most cheering

manner. In order to punish Wantz, I insisted that we keep on until we

reached our prescribed destination, in spite of the time we had lost.

We had a prophet of evil on board who predicted that Wantz would

certainly have the engine thoroughly stacked by the next morning,

and he did. We had planned to start at daylight, but, when we

climbed down to the boat in the gray dawn, found him puttering

over its machinery. He said that the cylinder was "froze up." As the

temperature did not seem to warrant such a result, I got him to explain

to me what was wrong, and after watching him put on and take off

the cylinder-head several times, discovered that he had an ingenious

contrivance so arranged that by giving a single push he could put the

make-and-break spark connection out of commission from the inside of

the cylinder. I myself adjusted it properly, compelled him to put on

the cylinder-head without touching his disarranging mechanism, and

we went on our way. For some time I watched him closely, and while

I continued to do so, the engine ran beautifully, but ultimately I

had to go ashore to inspect a rotting Manobo settlement, and while

I was gone he queered it again in such a manner that I could not

find the cause of the mischief. We had speedy revenge, however, for

while we were negotiating a swift rapid the engine died, with the

result that the launch nearly turned turtle and narrowly escaped

being wrecked. This frightened Wantz, and after a few mysterious

manipulations on his part the engine began to "put, put, put" again

most cheerfully, and we ascended the rapid without difficulty.

On the evening of the third day we reached a Filipino settlement

called Talacógon, seventy miles up the river. Wantz began to complain

that he was sick, and as Talacógon would have been a very comfortable

place to lie over, I opined that his ailment would become acute before

morning. At four o'clock I sneaked down to the river bank by a back

street to see what was going on. He was whistling cheerfully. I beat

a careful retreat, then came ostentatiously down the main road to the

pier. Sepulchral groans were now issuing from the launch, and Wantz was

not visible. I found him writhing on its bottom in assumed agony. By

this time I had become convinced that a native banca with a few good

oarsmen would be better than a launch with such an engineer, so told

him I was sorry he was ill, gave him permission to return to Butuan,

and offered to pay what I owed him on the spot. When he found that

it was not my intention to pay for the time consumed by the return

trip his symptoms became less alarming, and he expressed hope of

ultimate recovery. Interrogated as to the probable date when he would

be prepared to continue the journey, he put it three days ahead. I

told him that I could not wait so long. Gradually he reduced to half

a day the time which the reëstablishment of his health would require,

but I told him that I could not wait, and that his recovery must be

immediate if he was to continue with us. This was too much of a jolt

to his pride, and when we were ready to embark he was still too ill

to start! We accordingly loaded our belongings into two bancas each

some sixty feet long, lay down on our backs in their little cabins,

and continued on our way upstream.

The trip up the Agusan River is a most wonderful one. Nothing

could surpass the magnificence of the tropical vegetation along its

banks. The sportsman finds himself constantly diverted. Great fruit

pigeons and huge hornbills frequently fly over one's boat, or perch

in trees where they can be shot from the river. Monkeys abound. Huge

crocodiles may occasionally be observed sleeping on the banks. Wild

hogs are plentiful, but usually keep out of sight. The trees are hung

with a marvellous drapery of vines, orchids and ferns, and, as the

stream is so broad and deep as to render its navigation easy, one can

lean back and enjoy to the full the beauties of nature displayed in

prodigal abundance on every side.

We found the human inhabitants of this wonderful region a highly

unsatisfactory lot. The Manobo families were living either singly,

scattered along the river, or grouped in little villages composed of

a dozen or two rotting huts and surrounded by the accumulated filth

of years. As was to be anticipated under the circumstances, most of

the people were full of malaria, and many suffered from repulsive skin

diseases. They had little cultivated ground. The growing and cleaning

of hemp was their only resource, and they had become so accustomed to

having the products of their labour taken from them by the people of

Butuan that they had almost given up working. They listened with dull,

uncomprehending hopelessness to our story of better days to come,

and it soon became evident that nothing but practical experience

would convince these helpless people that times were going to change.

The Filipinos of Talacógon were an especially lazy, vicious lot,

who did no work themselves, but sponged or stole a living from their

non-Christian neighbours. Forest trees were springing up on the plaza

of this town. Its streets were deep in mud, and its sanitary condition

beggared description. I was really afraid to stay overnight. I ordered

the people to clean up, and they laughed at me. I ultimately made

them clean up, but they successfully resisted my efforts to do so

longer than the people of any other town ever did, and several years

passed before I was at all satisfied with results.

Our progress up the river was unimpeded until we reached what is shown

on the maps of Mindanao as a series of extensive lakes, but is in

reality a huge and trackless swamp. Some years before a very severe

earthquake had caused the subsidence of a vast forested area along

the banks of this portion of the Agusan River, with the result that

the old river-bed was completely broken up, and the river below this

point reversed its flow for some time until the depressed region had

been filled up by the water which entered it from all sides. There

were no well-established channels through this submerged forest,

and navigation in it was dangerous unless one had experienced guides.

In order that such guides might be always available, the Spaniards

had compelled a number of them to live on the outskirts of the swamp

at a place called Clavijo. The ground on which their houses stood

was under water most of the year. They were a miserable, sickly

lot. Most of them were suffering acutely from malaria, and all were

very anxious to abandon the ill-fated site of their village,--a thing

which, it is needless to say, they were promptly permitted by us to

do. Having secured the services of several of them, we continued our

journey toward Bunauan, but found the stream which we ascended after

extricating ourselves from the swamp so choked with rubbish that it

was frequently necessary either to clear channels or to haul our heavy

boats over masses of dead tree trunks, branches, bamboo, etc. From

Bunauan we returned to Butuan and sailed for Cagayan de Misamis.

While passing along one of the main streets of the latter town on my

way to the provincial building, I discovered Bukidnon people buying

vino by the demijohn. The law prohibiting the sale of alcoholic liquors

to members of non-Christian tribes was then in effect throughout the

archipelago. One of the first questions which I put to the Filipino

governor was whether he had taken the necessary measures to see that

this law was enforced. He replied in the affirmative. I asked him what

he had done. He said that he had sent letters to the several Bukidnon

settlements telling the people that they must not buy vino. I asked him

if he had warned the dealers in his own town that they must not sell to

the Bukidnons, and he replied, "It has not occurred to me to do that!"

Having explained to the governor the terms of the law establishing

the province of Agusan, and the reason for its adoption, I proceeded

across the bay to a barrio which then was, and still is, the point

of departure for the interior, planning to start at daylight the

following morning. I had with me my private secretary Mr. Zinn,

and Mr. Frederick Lewis, who had just accepted appointment as

lieutenant-governor of the sub-province.

Lewis had taken a number of Zamboanga Moros to the St. Louis

Exposition and had also assumed charge of the Lake Lanao Moros there

when their manager misbehaved and it became necessary to dispense with

his services. He had looked after his people so carefully and so well

that some of the hardened old sinners from Lake Lanao actually wept

when they parted company with him on the beach after their return from

the United States! He was a tireless rider, and the country which he

was to govern was a horseman's country par excellence.

Our transportation for the trip was in charge of a Filipino lieutenant

of constabulary, named Manual Fortich, and I was not greatly pleased

with this arrangement, as we had a hard journey ahead of us which

might be rendered difficult or even dangerous by lack of efficiency

on the part of the man who looked after our saddle animals and our

carriers. I soon learned, however, that no better man could have been

selected for this task.

We marched at daylight, as is my custom when travelling overland in

the provinces. At midnight a mounted Filipino messenger, sent by the

caciques of Cagayan, had started ahead of us to frighten the people

of the towns which we proposed to visit so that they would take

to the hills. In this he was partially successful. When we reached

the small settlement of Tancuran late in the afternoon, after a hard

day's work, the only inhabitants left were a few old cripples who had

been too sick or too feeble to run away. However, many of those who

had fled were hiding in the underbrush near by. Lieutenant Fortich,

who had already made himself invaluable to us, soon rounded up quite

a number of them, and they were in turn despatched for their friends.

This little village was in a deplorable state of abandonment. Only

a few of its houses were habitable. It had been well laid out by

some good Jesuit missionary priest, but its streets and plaza were

choked with a jungle of tropical vegetation through which ran trails

resembling deer paths! There was absolutely nothing growing in the

vicinity which could furnish food for a human being.

Lieutenant Fortich ultimately got together quite an audience for

me. We squatted around a cheerful camp-fire and discussed the past

and the future until late at night. I was delighted to find that my

auditors took a keen interest in my statements. They soon gained

courage to tell me freely of the abuses which they had suffered,

and while obviously not optimistic over my promises of better things,

were evidently willing to be shown.

Just before we turned in Lieutenant Fortich asked me at what time I

would like to start in the morning. I said "five o'clock." He replied,

"Very well." While his remarks were gratifyingly in accord with the

biblical injunction to "let your conversation be yea, yea; nay, nay,"

I feared that he did not fully comprehend the difficulties involved in

an early start, so decided to take a hand myself when the time came. I

accordingly arose at three-thirty A.M., and nearly fainted when I

found that the horses were already munching their grain and, wonder

of wonders, that the carriers were eating their breakfast. The usual

thing is to be informed, when you are about an hour on your way, that

the carriers have had no breakfast, and to be forced to sit down and

wait while they cook and eat their morning meal. I went back to bed,

convinced that I had discovered a new kind of Filipino constabulary

officer. I got up again at four o'clock, dressed, and went to the

table at four-thirty, finding a piping hot meal ready. When at five

o'clock I descended the stairs of the house where I had spent the

night, my horse was saddled and waiting at the gate. All I had to do

was to climb aboard. Meanwhile I had not heard an order given, or a

word spoken in a tone above that of ordinary conversation. Throughout

the trip Lieutenant Fortich continued to display quiet efficiency. I

jotted his name down in my mental notebook as that of a man to be

used later. He is to-day the lieutenant-governor of Bukidnon, and a

most faithful, competent and efficient public officer.

During my first day's ride I had had a decidedly startling

experience. On leaving the sea beach one climbs rather abruptly for

some nine hundred feet and then comes out on a wonderful plain. After

riding over this beautiful stretch of level country for some time I

could not longer resist the temptation to attempt to take a panoramic

series of views showing it, so dismounted, set up my camera and made

three exposures, rotating the instrument so as to get a panoramic

effect. I worked with my back toward my companions, and became so

absorbed in my task that I failed to notice that they were moving

on. When I finally turned around I discovered to my utter amazement

that I was alone, save for the carrier who packed my camera and

plates. In every direction an apparently unbroken plain stretched for

miles, and there was not another human being in sight. My companions

had disappeared from off the face of the earth. I actually began

to fear that I had taken leave of my senses. Nothing which has

ever befallen me has given me such a curious sensation. However,

one tangible thing remained; to wit, a well-marked trail through

the grass. I followed it, and before I had gone three hundred yards

came to the brink of a precipitous cañon down the wall of which my

companions were zigzagging. From the point where I had taken my

photographs it was absolutely impossible to detect the existence

of this narrow crack in the earth. We soon learned, to our sorrow,

that this first cañon was only one of many.

At its bottom was a raging torrent which we forded with difficulty. My

fool horse got frightened and turned down-stream where the current was

swiftest, and I narrowly escaped taking an impromptu trip down rapids

which would have hammered me into insensibility against the rocks.

Until we reached Malaybalay the conditions encountered in the several

villages through which we passed were similar to those which we had

found at Tanculan: houses abandoned for the most part, and always in

a lamentable state of neglect; sanitary conditions very bad; streets

and plazas overgrown; an abundance of coffee bushes in some of the

villages, but no visible source of food supply anywhere, except for

a few scraggly banana plants.

At the outset we had found all the villages deserted, but in each

case had managed to get some of the people back and hold a friendly

interview with them. The "grapevine telegraph" got to working, and soon

they began to await our arrival. At Malaybalay they gave us quite an

ovation. This town was comparatively clean; the grass on the plaza

was neatly cut. All in all, conditions were so encouraging that I

decided that it should be the capital of the subprovince.

The following day we continued our journey to Linabo, where I heard

of a Filipino engaged, as usual, in terrorizing the inhabitants and

taking their products from them. I twice sent him courteous requests

to come to see me, and then had him unceremoniously brought into my

presence. He was carrying an ugly looking, heavy-calibre six-shooter. I

demanded the document which justified his possession of this weapon,

and as he could produce nothing more satisfactory than a note from the

governor of Misamis authorizing him to use it in that province, I took

his gun away from him. He assumed a threatening attitude and warned me

that he was a friend of the provincial governor, but I told him that

he was not a friend of mine, and started him on his way to the coast.

This occurrence was known throughout Bukidnon within three days,

and as the man in question was influential the fact that his claws

had been at least temporarily trimmed greatly encouraged the people.

From Linabo we returned by a different route, visiting the old

settlement of Sumilao, the site of the original Jesuit mission in

Bukidnon, and spending a day in endeavouring to reach a constantly

disappearing village named Nanca. We had gathered from the written

report of a lieutenant of the United States army that Nanca was

distant from Sumilao about two hours' ride. We reached it after dark,

having travelled steadily throughout the day except for some thirty

minutes taken for lunch, and having, I firmly believe, broken the

world's record for the number of cañons encountered in the course of

a fourteen-hour ride.

Nanca proved to be a very interesting Bukidnon village, as its

people retained their picturesque tribal dress and most of their

primitive customs. I became much interested in finding out about

its organization, and the part that each family took in its affairs,

and asked the persons present what each man did. I finally came to a

particularly fine-looking white-haired individual, and when I inquired

about him my informant replied: "Oh, he does not do anything. He is

a philosopher!" Then the crowd shouted with laughter. We decided that

the Bukidnons were not without a sense of humor.

A hard half day's ride brought us back to Cagayan de Misamis, and

I sailed at once for Manila, leaving Lieutenant-Governor Lewis

to face his difficult task alone. As I had anticipated, trouble

promptly began. The wealthiest people of Cagayan had always lived

off the unfortunate Bukidnons, and had no intention of relaxing

their grip. I have deeply regretted that I did not myself visit the

remaining villages in the valley of the Cagayan River and explain to

their inhabitants the change in their fortunes. Agents of the Cagayan

caciques had been busy there while I was occupied on the other side

of the subprovince, and shortly after my arrival at Manila a telegram

was received from the provincial governor, saying that the Bukidnons

were asking for a brown governor, instead of a white one, and were

reported to be preparing ropes and poison with which to commit suicide.

Now these simple people of the hills had no intention of committing

suicide, nor did they want "a brown governor." Their petitions were

prepared by Cagayan caciques and they were forced to sign them.

In the part of the subprovince which I had visited the conspirators

against the new government made little headway. Nevertheless their

vicious activities continued, and later, on several occasions,

they succeeded in frightening the people of one or another of the

then rapidly growing towns so badly that they took to the hills, and

Mr. Lewis had to hunt them up and persuade them to come back again,

which he always succeeded in doing.

When I returned to inspect Bukidnon a year later, I found that a

marvellous change had already been brought about. Model villages had

taken the place of the ramshackle affairs which I had found on my first

visit. The houses were grouped around spacious plazas on which the

grass had been so carefully cut that they had already begun to look

like lawns. Streets were kept so clean that one could literally pick

up a dropped pin without the slightest difficulty. Where the streets

reached the open prairie, bars were provided to keep stray animals

out of town. Every yard was neatly fenced. All domestic animals were

properly confined if not out at pasture. Every village was perfectly

drained, the slope of the land being such that all drainage promptly

ran off onto the prairie. Yards were immaculately clean and were

planted with useful food-producing crops. Little cultivated fields

were already beginning to appear near the outskirts of the towns. This

latter change greatly delighted me. These poor, ignorant people had

always believed that the prairie soil was worthless for agricultural

purposes, and that in order to grow crops it was necessary for

them to go to the distant mountains, clear forest land and plant

it. Furthermore, they had been quite unable to break the prairie

sod and bring the underlying soil under cultivation with such simple

agricultural implements as they possessed.

At the request of Lieutenant-Governor Lewis, I had furnished two disk

plows with the necessary animals to pull them, in order that the land

might be plowed the first time for those who were willing to cultivate

it. Thereafter they were left to care for it themselves. This plan

had aroused great enthusiasm. As I approached Sumilao I saw a crowd

of men busily engaged in some task, and when I drew near was amazed

and delighted to find that, although the disk plow intended for use

at that place had arrived before the animals which were to pull it,

fifteen men had harnessed themselves to it and were vigorously breaking

the sod. I decided on the spot that the Bukidnon people had a future,

and have never changed my mind. The progress which they have since

made is almost unbelievable.

Efforts to destroy the government which we had established in

Bukidnon, and to reëstablish the system of peonage under which

its peaceful, industrious inhabitants had so long groaned, were

persistently continued. During my third annual inspection trip,

I found that there was a plan on foot to trump up criminal charges

against Lieutenant-Governor Lewis and Señor Manuel Fortich, whose

services I had meanwhile secured as an assistant to Mr. Lewis upon

his severing his connection with the constabulary. The efforts of

the mischief-makers had become so persistent and so vicious that I

decided to declare war on them. Accordingly, I ran over to Cagayan

and summoned the provincial officers and several other prominent

citizens, with whom I went straight to the point, telling them that I

had not anticipated that they would readily adapt themselves to the

changed conditions which resulted from the separation of Bukidnon

as a distinct subprovince, and had patiently waited three years for

them to accept the inevitable, but that I had grown weary of their

constant efforts to nullify the work which we were doing, and that I

was aware of the plan to destroy the usefulness of Lewis and Fortich;

adding that they must let the Bukidnon officials alone, and that in

the event of future failure to do so I would temporarily transfer my

office to Cagayan de Misamis and devote my time and attention to making

things interesting for certain of them. I named no names, and it was

not necessary to do so. The individuals referred to knew whom I meant.

Conditions now rapidly improved for a time, but in November I

was called to Washington to be investigated by the Committee on

Insular Affairs with reference to my administration of public and

friar lands, and the enemies of the Bukidnon government promptly

became active. Governor Lewis was arrested and tried on two criminal

charges, while his assistant, Señor Fortich, was charged with murder,

no less. If the charges of estafa and falsification of public documents

brought against Lewis failed, it was proposed to prosecute him for

adultery, the minimum penalty for which in the Philippine Islands is

imprisonment for two years, four months and one day.

Fortunately, it took but a short time to show that the cases against

those two young men were spite cases pure and simple, and they

collapsed miserably. Other charges were promptly brought.

There had been a sad mix up, resulting from an ill-defined boundary

line between Bukidnon and the Moro Province, for which I myself

was directly responsible, as the papers concerning it were on my

desk awaiting action when I was called home, and in the rush of

a hurried departure I had overlooked them. Lewis and Fortich had

been unjustly blamed for the result. I now took a hand in the game

myself, and the whole matter was satisfactorily cleared up. Lewis was

promoted to the governorship of the province of Agusan, and Fortich

was made lieutenant-governor of Bukidnon, a position which he has

filled ever since with great credit to himself and advantage to the

Bukidnon people.

The progress which has been made in Bukidnon is really wonderful. At

the outset there was not a decent trail in the subprovince. Now

one can go nineteen miles inland to the Mañgima River cañon in an

automobile, and it will be soon possible so to continue the journey

ten miles further to Maluco. Excellent low-grade horse trails,

many miles of which are already wide enough to serve as automobile

roads as soon as the line to the coast is completed, connect the

principal settlements of Bukidnon proper, which also have telephonic

communication, the people having gladly undertaken to cut and erect

the necessary poles and build and maintain the lines, if furnished

instruments, wire, insulators and tools. They have kept their bargain,

and there are constant demands for an extension of the system, under

similar conditions, to the more remote mountain villages.

There was not a bridge or a culvert in the subprovince. Pack animals

were constantly being swept away by the rushing currents of the

larger rivers, or perishing miserably in mud when attempting to cross

soft-bottomed creeks. Now one may ride from the sea-coast to Malaybalay

without wetting the feet of one's horse, and in so doing one will

cross more than a hundred substantial bridges and culverts built by the

Bukidnons themselves. As a rule, even the largest bridges have cost the

government no more than the price of their iron bolts and braces. The

people have voluntarily and cheerfully done the work, in order to get

the benefits which would result. In some cases heavy hardwood timbers

have been dragged for fifteen miles or more by teams of hundreds of

men. All bridges are roofed, and they afford fine camping places for

travellers and their pack animals. Incidentally the load which pack

animals can comfortably carry has been more than doubled.

Old villages have increased greatly in size, and numerous new ones

have been established. All have spacious plazas and streets which

are beautifully kept. The mountains are almost depopulated. The

hardy old fighters who used to frequent them have become peaceful

agriculturists. Houses are neat and clean. Yards are fenced, planted

with useful crops, and well cultivated. Each house has its own sanitary

arrangements. No domestic animals are allowed to run at large in towns.

Rich, cultivated fields surround the villages and each year stretch

farther and farther out over the neighbouring prairies. Coffee

production is increasing by leaps and bounds, and blight is

disappearing from the plantations as the result of intensive

cultivation. The people are well fed and prosperous. Their condition

steadily improves. They have been taught the value of their products,

and encouraged to insist on receiving it.

Practically every village has its schoolhouse and its schoolmaster's

house, voluntarily built free of charge by the inhabitants. Children

are sent to school by their parents and learn rapidly. On my second

visit I found the boys trying to play baseball, using joints of bamboo

for bats, and big, thick-skinned oranges for balls. I sent to each

of the more important towns a complete baseball outfit, and now the

boys certainly know, and can play, the game.

These results have been accomplished practically without bloodshed

or rough treatment of any sort. Only in the rarest instances, and in

dealing with the very worst of the hill men, who were professional

murderers, has a shot been fired.

When the subprovince was invaded by bands of savages from the mountains

of Butuan and from the neighbouring Moro Province, the people requested

firearms so that they might protect themselves. Some twenty-five old

carbines were furnished them, and they organized an effective force

which pursued the evil-doers and policed them up very effectively.

Marámag, one of the most recently established villages, is in the very

heart of Mindanao. Two years ago a good many of its leading citizens

were living in tree-houses. During August, 1912, I found them cutting

the grass on their plaza with a lawn-mower!

Another thing which has made me rub my eyes and wonder if I were

awake was the discovery that the people of this subprovince were

clothing themselves and their children in garments purchased from

Montgomery, Ward & Co., of Chicago, Illinois, U. S. A.! The explanation

is simple. The Cagayan shopkeepers persist in cheating them at every

opportunity, and the house of Montgomery, Ward & Co. does not. Although

Chicago is far away, the mail service is nevertheless good!

Death has just summoned Leoncio, one of the most remarkable men who

has yet arisen among the Bukidnon people. We found him an absolutely

illiterate heathen. With no other instruction than that given him

by lieutenant-governors Lewis and Fortich, he learned to lay out and

build roads and trails on any desired grade, to construct bridges which

will be standing twenty years hence, and to erect public buildings

which would be a credit to any man compelled to use such materials

as those available in Bukidnon.

At the time of his death he was just finishing a bridge three hundred

feet long across the rushing Culaman River. This structure has a

galvanized iron roof, contributed by the enthusiastic residents

of Sumilao.

The healthful rivalry between towns is one of the delightful things

about Bukidnon. Each desires to have better buildings, better streets,

better bridges, better roads and better schools than its neighbours.

I experience no keener pleasure than that which I enjoy on my annual

trips through Bukidnon. There is always something new to see. The

people are most grateful for the help which has been given them. Their

friendliness and their loyalty cannot fail to touch the hearts of

all who know them. They are now well housed, and well fed. Their

children are being given in liberal measure the education which had

previously been denied to them. The Bukidnons are to-day a prosperous,

progressive people, happy and contented. I have an abiding faith in

their future if they are given a chance.

When they meet their old Filipino oppressors on trips to the coast,

the latter grit their teeth and remark under their breath: "Oh, very

well. This is your inning now, but ours will come! The Americans

are going soon, and then we will square our little account with

you. You will pay dearly for your 'insubordination'!" Having set

the feet of these people on the road which leads onward and upward,

shall we leave them to their fate?

Conditions in Butuan have improved far more slowly than in

Bukidnon. The climate is less favourable. Bukidnon is a highland

country with a white man's climate. The Agusan River valley is

usually hot, and always damp. The town of Butuan was considered the

worst misgoverned municipality in the Philippines on the date of its

separation from Surigao, and it was certainly one of the filthiest. I

have sunk to my knees in the mud of its streets. It is to-day a

beautifully kept and sanitary place, and is certainly not misgoverned.

As I have already said, the Manobo inhabitants of the wretched

villages along the banks of the main Agusan River were a sickly,

filthy, broken-spirited lot, besotted with vino and in danger

of becoming victims of the opium habit. It is almost a physical

impossibility completely to suppress the opium traffic because of

the ease with which the drug is smuggled, but the vino traffic has

been suppressed. The chief business on the Agusan River was formerly

the transportation of vino up-stream. It is now the transportation

down-stream of Manila hemp raised by the people of the valley.

The villages have been greatly improved and rendered reasonably

sanitary. The best of them compare not unfavourably with some of the

Bukidnon towns. The people improve, but radical improvement will not

be in evidence until the next generation comes on.

Transportation facilities have been greatly increased by freeing

several of the more important branches of the Agusan River from snags,

and so opening them for launch navigation. Two good canals have been

cut through the swamps, and communication by launch has thus been

opened with the upper Agusan valley.

There is an industrial school for Manobo boys, and a number of the

villages have primary schools.

Doubtless the most important single factor in improving the condition

of the Manobos has been the establishment of a series of government

shops at which they can sell their products for a fair price, and

buy what they need so cheaply that it almost seems to them as if they

were receiving presents.

Governor Frederick Johnston, who is largely responsible for these

improved conditions, laboured ceaselessly to bring them about. At the

outset he had no launch transportation and lived for weeks at a time

in native canoes or bancas. He was fearless and tireless. When the

time came for him to take long overdue leave I had no competent person

to put in his place, and in deference to my wishes he continued at

his post for nearly two years. At the end of that time it was found

that one of his legs, which had been injured on an early exploring

expedition, had become cancerous, and that immediate amputation was

necessary. This made it impossible for him to continue his work,

and crippled him for life. He had borne his trouble uncomplainingly,

and I had not even known of its existence. Although a man of mature

years, he bravely entered upon the study of medicine, hoping to

prepare himself for a useful life, but the operation had come too

late. Cancer reappeared, and for a year he was dying by inches. In

a way I am responsible for it. Do you think he laid it up against

me? You shall judge for yourselves.

He used to write a copy-book hand. Just before leaving Manila I

received from him an almost illegible letter in which he economized

words as if composing a cablegram. It brought the tears to my eyes. He

said:--

"I thank you for your slavery book just received. If strength is

left me to read it, I shall read it though I do nothing else in

this life.

"I have had letter in preparation to you since last June but

I haven't strength to sit at the machine. I expect now to die

before New Year.

"I have offered surgeons to take all chances, but they decline

to operate, stating that they would consider operation deliberate

murder.

"This is first letter I write since last September. If I do not get

strength to finish typewritten letter I have given instructions it

be sent when I am dead. I cannot write with pen; I have tried it.

"If you hear no more, please remember I never forgot you. Sorry

you leave the Secretariat--so sorry I can't tell you.

"I am ready to die. I know that I have lived unselfishly for

what I thought was right and good, and death is nothing. If this

should be the last, then accept from the man that was always your

man and will be your man until he dies, a last Good-by."

A few days later he went to his reward.

The loyalty of such a man is a precious possession.

The lot of the non-Christian tribes inhabiting the regularly organized

provinces is not a happy one. The township government act is applicable

to their settlements, and the provincial officers have the same

powers and duties with reference to them as have the corresponding

officers in the special government provinces. In both cases these

powers are exercised subject to the approval of the secretary of the

interior, but in providing for the government of non-Christians in

Christian provinces, we overlooked one very essential detail. Neither

the secretary of the interior nor any one else has authority to

compel the governors or provincial boards of these provinces to

act. They have discovered that efforts to improve the condition of

the ignorant and primitive peoples intrusted to their charge can be

very effectively nullified if they merely sit still and do nothing,

and almost with one accord they have adopted this policy. Exception

should be made in favour of North Ilocos, South Ilocos, Pangasinán,

Ambos Camarines, Iloilo and Zambales. No other provinces have made any

real effort to help their non-Christian population, and the funds set

aside by law to be expended for this end simply go on accumulating

in their respective treasuries, as I have managed to convince them

that efforts to divert such funds to purposes not authorized by law

will not prosper. The law should be so amended as to provide that if

provincial boards fail to act, the secretary of the interior may do so.

The organization of the Moro Province was provided for by an act

passed on June 1, 1903. It is the largest single province in the

Philippine Islands, including within its limits more than half of

the great island of Mindanao with various small islands adjacent

thereto, and Basilan, Joló, Siassi, Tawi Tawi, Sibutu, Cagayan de

Joló and the very numerous other small islands stretching between

Mindanao and North Borneo. It is divided into five districts, each

with a district governor. The province has a governor, a secretary,

a treasurer, an attorney, an engineer and a superintendent of schools.

The four officials first named constitute a legislative council the

acts of which are subject to the approval of the Philippine Commission.

The province is allowed to expend the moneys accruing from the

customs dues paid at Joló and Zamboanga, which are ports of entry,

but is not fully self-supporting. The insular government pays for

the Philippine constabulary serving there. Until within a very short

time the provincial officials have been almost exclusively officers

of the army of the United States. In my opinion this arrangement has

been a bad one, not because of the character of the men who have done

the work, many of whom were of exceptional ability and were admirably

fitted for the performance of the duties which fell to their lot, but

because no one of them has retained a given office long enough to carry

a policy through to its logical conclusion and get the results which

might thus have been obtained. Indeed, the lack of a fixed policy,

combined with some unnecessary and unjustifiable killing, explain,

in my opinion, the fact that the results accomplished have come far

short of what might have been expected when one considers the splendid

body of men from which the provincial officials have been drawn.

Noteworthy public improvements have been made in places like Zamboanga

and Joló, but the country of the hill people, which ought to have

been crisscrossed with trails long ere this, is still not opened

up. Tribes like the Mandayas would, if given the opportunity, advance

as rapidly as have the Bukidnons, but such opportunity has not been

given to them to any considerable extent.

Having heard much of the Mandaya villages near Mati, I improved

the opportunity to visit them in August, 1912, only to find to my

amazement that the local constabulary officer, who ought to have been

in the closest possible touch with these people, did not even know

the way to their settlements. At another place where some 1400 hill

people had been compelled to come down from their native mountains and

settle in a village which could have been made a model of cleanliness,

and should have been surrounded by rich cultivated fields, not half

enough ground had been cleared to furnish food for the inhabitants,

even under the most favourable circumstances. The houses were falling

down; the streets were deep in mud; the garden patches were overgrown

with weeds; more than half of the people had taken to the hills again

in a search for food, and small blame to them! I found here as fine

appearing a young constabulary officer as one could hope to meet,

eating his heart out because he had nothing to do! Neither he nor any

of his soldiers spoke the local dialect. He was supposed to be running

a store, among other things, for the benefit of the hill people. I

asked to see it, and it took him half an hour to find the key! In sixty

minutes I could have set him work enough to keep him busy for three

months. All that he needed was some one to direct him, but there was

no one to do it. With the best intentions in the world he was using

his soldiers to chase a lot of poor hill people back into a village

where they ought never to have been asked to live. In other words,

the Moro Province, having brought these people down and ordered them

to settle on a site selected for them, had signally failed to back its

own game. I myself would not think of trying to compel members of a

wild tribe to live in any given place, unless it were necessary to do

so in the interest of public order. Life in villages can, and should,

be made so attractive to them that they will be glad to adopt it.

The Moros, with their fanatical religious beliefs and prejudices,

present a very grave problem. Conditions have undoubtedly greatly

improved in Davao, Cotabato and Zamboanga. I am not sufficiently

familiar with affairs in the Lanao district to express an intelligent

opinion concerning them. So far as concerns Joló, it is my opinion

that things have come to a bad pass there; that life and property

are not as safe to-day as they were during the early days of the

American occupation, and that we have progressed backward for some

time. However, Joló pirates have at least been pretty effectively

kept off the sea, and that in itself is a very important result.

It is idle to suppose that the Moros can be subdued and made into

decent citizens by throwing kisses at them. It was certain from the

start that they would transgress. In my opinion, if we are to cure them

of their evil tendencies, we must first warn them that they will be

punished if they misbehave, and then make the warning come true. This

has been done, but to another very important part of the programme

which I deem essential to success, comparatively little attention seems

to have been given. When people who have been punished for misbehavior

have had enough they should be afforded a chance to quit, and indeed

should be encouraged and helped to do so. No grudge should be borne

for past misdeeds after the account has once been settled. Occasions

have not been lacking in the Moro Province on which men have been

treated with severity when they should have been treated with kindness.

In the Moro, native racial characteristics have been profoundly

modified by religious beliefs. Men endowed with such magnificent

courage as the Moro warriors often display certainly have their

redeeming qualities. The same old policy that has won with the Ifugaos,

Bontoc Igorots and Kalingas, and is winning with the wild Tingians

and Ilongots, has been tried in dealing with the renegade Moros of

Palawan with a considerable degree of success. It is my firm belief

that it will work with the Moros of Mindanao, Basilan, Joló and Tawi

Tawi, but substantial and permanent progress cannot now be anticipated

for many years. The Moros must be given more than a square deal, or

results will not differ essentially from those which have attended

the efforts of Japan to subdue the hill people of Northern Formosa,

or those of the Dutch to subdue the Achinese.

Recently nearly all of the army officers holding positions in the Moro

Province have been replaced by civilians. This is a move in the right

direction; not, I repeat, because the men thus displaced are incapable

of achieving success if given the opportunity, but because continuity

of policy is absolutely essential to success and is impracticable if

the men charged with carrying out that policy are to be constantly

changed. The next governor of the Moro Province should be a civilian

and should be selected with the greatest care. He should be able,

energetic, fearless, tireless and young. He should be kept in office

for twenty years if he will stay so long. The task which awaits him

is real man's work.