Magat River.--Enthusiastic reception at Bayombong.--Speeches
and reports.--Solano.--Ifugao "college yell."--Bagábag.
The next day, April 20, we rode out at six, a splendid morning;
Bubud felt the inspiration, too, for he got on capitally. We soon
reached the Magat River on the other side of which was Bayombong,
the capital of the province and our first halt of the day.
The Magat is another of those turbulent, uncertain rivers of the
Archipelago; we were not sure as we neared it whether we could get
over or not. When up, it carries waves in midstream six to seven feet
from crest to trough. But we had no such ill-luck, and _bancas_ soon
came over for us, the horses swimming. While waiting for them we had
a chance to admire the beautiful country; on one side tall spreading
trees and broad savannahs, on the other the mountain presenting a
bare scarp of red rock many hundreds of feet high; immediately in
front the cool, green river, over all the brilliant sun, not yet too
hot to prevent our thinking of other things.
Once over, we had no occasion to complain of our reception! All
the notabilities were present, of course, mounted, but in addition
there were three bands, all playing different tunes at the same time,
in different keys, and all _fortissimo_. No instrument was allowed
to rest, the drums being especially vigorous. One of the bands was
that of the Constabulary, playing really well, and with magnificent
indifference to the other two. I am bound to say they returned
it. We had the Constabulary troops, too, as escort, a well set-up,
well-turned-out and soldierlike body. What with the bands, the pigs,
the dogs, the horses, the children, the people, it was altogether
one of the most delightful confusions conceivable, not the least
interesting feature being the happy unconsciousness of the people
of the incongruity of the reception. However, we formed a column,
the Constabulary at the head, with its band, and were played into
Bayombong, with the other bands, children, dogs, etc., as a mighty
rear guard.
Our first business was to listen to reports and addresses. So we
all went upstairs in the Government House, the _presidencia_; the
Governor-General, Mr. Worcester, and the _presidente_ took their seats
on a dais, while the rest of us, with the local Americans and some of
the native inhabitants, formed the audience, and listened to a report
read by the treasurer. This made a great impression on us, so sensible
and businesslike was it; not content with a statement, it went on to
describe the affairs of the province, the possibilities of agriculture,
and what could be accomplished if the people would turn to and work,
and in particular it made no complaints. Apparently this report alarmed
the _presidente_, for he left his seat on the platform as soon as
he decently could, and delivered a speech intended to traverse the
treasurer's report. His concern was almost comic: the idea of saying to
the Governor-General that a great deal could be done locally by work,
when there was a central Government at Manila! Mr. Forbes, as usual,
made in his turn a very sound speech, based on his observation in
the province, on its fertility, its possibilities, the necessity of
improving communications and of diversifying crops. I noticed here,
as elsewhere in the province, the excellence of the Spanish used in
speeches. As for the treasurer, we were informed that he had been taken
in hand at an early age by the Americans and trained, so that in making
his reports he had developed the ability to look upon the merits of
the question in hand. But he must feel himself to be a unique person!
We rested here in Bayombong through the heat of the day, part going to
Governor Bryant's house, the rest of us to that of Captain Browne, the
local Inspector of Constabulary. I have a grateful recollection of his
hospitality, as well as of that of his brother officers, with whom we
dined. Nor must I forget the Standard Oil Company. For had not Browne
rigged up a shower, consisting of the Standard five-gallon tin? A
_muchacho_ filled it with water and pulled it up over a pulley, and
you got an excellent shower from the holes punched in the bottom. In
fact, the Standard five-gallon tin is as well known in the East as
its contents, and is carefully preserved and used. We had several
opportunities to bless its existence.
Pleasant as was the nooning, it had to end: we mounted and rode on
to Solano. On the way Bubud insisted on drinking from a dirty swamp
by the roadside, although there was a limpid stream not fifty yards
ahead which he could see as well as I. But there was nothing for
it but the swamp; I accordingly let him have his way, only to find
the bank slippery and the water deep, so that he went in up to his
shoulders, with his hindquarters on the bank. While I was trying to
pull him back, he got in his hindquarters, and then, in further answer
to my efforts, sat down in the water! And such water! Thick, greasy,
smelly! A _carabao_ wallow it was. He now gave unmistakable evidence of
an intention to lie down, when a friendly hand got me up on the bank,
whereupon Bubud, concluding he would get out too, emerged with a coat
of muddy slime. This seemed to have no effect whatever on his spirits,
for on entering Solano a few minutes later, to the sound of bells
and bands, with banners fluttering in the breeze, he got into such
a swivet that before I knew it he was at the head of the procession,
having worked himself forward and planted himself squarely in front
of the Governor-General's horse, where he caracoled and curvetted and
pranced to his heart's delight. As soon as we got out of the _barrio_,
he was quite satisfied to take a more modest position, but occasions
of ceremony seemed to deprive him of all realization of his proper
place in the world.
The people of Solano made a great effort to have us stay the night,
but it was impossible; we had to get on to Bagábag. Solano, by the way,
is the commercial emporium of this end of the province, for there
is not a single shop in Bayombong. So on we went, through a calm,
dignified afternoon, the country as before impressing me with its open,
smiling valleys, its broad fields, its air of expectant fertility,
inviting one to come scratch its surface, if no more, in order to
reap abundant harvests. In fact, it seemed to me that we were riding
through typical farming land at home, instead of through a Malay valley
under the tropic. And if anything more were needed to strengthen the
illusion, it was a college yell, given by a gang of Ifugaos (the people
we were now immediately on our way to visit) repairing a bridge we had
to cross! They did it in style, and naturally had no cheer-leader;
time was kept by beating on the floor of the bridge with tools. For
this uttering of a shout of welcome or of other emotion in unison is a
characteristic trait of the Ifugaos, like their using spoons, and can
be likened to nothing else in the world but our American college yell.
Our reception at Bagábag was much like all the others we had had:
bands, arches, addresses, one in excellent English. But on this
occasion, after listening to a speech telling how poor the people were,
how bad the roads were, how much they needed Government help, etc.,
etc., Mr. Forbes squared off in his answer, and told them a few things,
as that he had seen so far not a single lean, hungry-looking person,
that the elements were kindly, that they could mend their own roads,
and that he was tired of their everlasting complaint of poverty and
hunger, when a little work would go a great way in this country toward
bettering their material condition. This, of course, is just the kind
of talk these people need, and the last some of them wish to hear.