Fil and Filippa Part 5

"We get gold in two ways," explained Fil. "We wash it from scooped-up gravel, and we break it out of rock with a hammer."

"And how do you melt your iron and copper?" I inquired.

"We dig coal, and use bamboo pipes and a bellows to make the draft. We put the ore into a clay kettle, and melt the rock out of it. Then, when the iron is pure, we heat it again until it is red, and beat it with hammers into shapes. Thus we make it into wheels, spears, axes, and so on," explained Fil, who had watched the workmen at their labors.

"I know little about practical, mechanical affairs; tell me more,"

urged Filippa.

"We have petroleum oil, just as America has; also, lead and paint ores. We have burnt-out volcano hills, composed of sulphur down into their deep hearts."

"That is like a very bad place, way down below, that I have read about," interrupted Moro; and Fil's mother and the Padre shook their fingers at him for joking.

Fil continued: "We have beautiful marble quarries, out of which we can carve statues and table tops, and tops for seats. Our marble is full of colored veins just like jewels. Then we also have gypsum mines, which furnish both fertilizer for land, to make crops grow high, and plaster of Paris, out of which we make pretty white statues."

"Wonderful!" I said, "I never thought of all this, when at home I bought the lovely white statues of lions and birds, from the vendor man with the basketful, on our street corner."

CHAPTER XI

WATER BUFFALO

We were all so tired when we came out of the wood to the ca.n.a.l, that Fil's father told us to wait until a buffalo cart came down the white sh.e.l.l road.

"A buffalo cart!" I exclaimed. "I'm afraid to ride in that. We used to shoot buffaloes in our country, and the few now remaining we guard behind iron fences in zoo gardens."

"Here he comes!" exclaimed Fil and Moro together.

"Boys, boys, be careful!" I cried.

"Let us frighten our guest," whispered Moro.

The buffalo sniffed at me, a stranger, and would have charged with his head down; but the man who had a rope tied to a ring in the buffalo's soft nose, pulled the animal back.

"Get down, you foolish boy!" I exclaimed.

But before I could stop him, brave little Moro had climbed up between the fierce looking animal's thick, long, sweeping horns, which extended from his large head back to his shoulders.

"Please get into the cart, everybody," Fil's father ordered, in a hospitable manner, bowing and waving his arm. It was indeed a high step.

The cart had solid wooden wheels, made out of one thick section that had been cut from a mahogany tree. There was no iron rim around the edge of the wheel. The sides of the cart, however, were light, as they were made from bamboo posts with rattan vine woven between them.

The driver sat on the shafts, and directed the heavy animal, just as much by words as by pulling the long rope.

"Why do you call these strong animals water buffaloes?" I asked Fil.

"Because, to escape the flies and the heat, the animal refuses to work during the heat of the day, and rushes off into a stream, or into the sea, to cover himself with mud and sand and water and weeds. All you can see above the stirred-up water are his large eyes and two wicked looking horns, which are as thick as a branch of a tree."

"What an odd tail he has, much like a mule's hairless tail. It looks like a piece of hose-pipe," I exclaimed.

Moro, way up on the buffalo's neck, heard me and laughed: "He can't reach me with his rubber tail."

"But I'll reach you, Sir, if you don't get down soon from your dangerous perch," said Fil's father.

The Padre explained: "We sometimes call these animals carabao. We use them for plowing, for drawing our sugar to market, for pressing our hemp mill, for turning our water wheels and sugar rollers, for pulling the huge logs of hardwood out of the thick forest. When the roads are too muddy for wheeled carts, we make a mud sleigh with runners; and the water buffalo with his thick hoofs pulls our loads of rice bags through the ooze."

"And we eat him too, though his steaks are tougher than cow meat,"

laughed Fil.

"And we make taws and whips out of his thick hide to correct little boys, if they have too much to say sometimes," remarked Fil's father, who winked at me, showing that his words were more severe than were his intentions or acts. Like the terrier, he just liked to frighten people; his bark was worse than his bite, as the saying is.

CHAPTER XII

BATS; CATTLE; HORSES; CATS; MONKEYS

"Let us stop here," begged Fil.

The driver, who wore a mushroom-shaped bamboo hat, pulled the water buffalo to a stop. All, except Filippa and Favra, got off at the mouth of a cave.

"I won't go in or near it," exclaimed Filippa.

"Girls are afraid of real things, of imaginary noises, and even of unreal shadows," jeered Fil.

"No wonder, if you refer to this damp cave," remarked Fil's mother.

Creeping up quietly to the entrance, Fil and Moro threw stones and oranges and mangoes up to the echoing roof.

"Lie down quick," shouted Fil's father.

We had need to stoop, for there was a whirring in the roof of the cave and over its mouth, like the sound of birds or aeroplanes.

"What are they, owls or eagles?" I exclaimed.

"Furry fruit-bats, as large as flying cats," laughed Fil, who was proud of his secret cave and of his discovery.

"You don't really mean to say that those large flying things have fur, and eat fruit?" I asked.

"Exactly," replied Fil's father. "These are the large Philippine bats. The wings of some of them are three feet across. Ladies use their fur to decorate gowns. The bats live on fruit, just as monkeys do; only the bats eat at dusk, and sleep during the day. That is why we caught them napping, by going to the cave in daylight."

"Wonderful country! Wonderful new kinds of life! I notice too that your cattle have humps on their shoulders," I remarked.

"Yes," replied Fil's father, "our cattle, though smaller than yours, have high humps on their shoulders. They are of the Indian and Chinese breed; not of the English breed. But they are very good animals and have beautiful soft eyes, which seem to cry and plead for pity. We use them also to draw our carts."