were as healthy-looking as possible, and, what is more, intelligent of
countenance--by all odds the brightest, most cheerful lot of youngsters
we had yet seen. As we moved off they set up a chant, clear and wild,
beginning with a high note and concluding with as deep a one as their
young voices could compass. The thing was as beautiful as it was wild,
and astonishing from the number and range of notes used.

Marching thus, we came upon a large gathering of men, women, and
children, to whom various gifts of cloth, pins, beads, etc., were
made. Here Gallman found, to his amazement, that he could understand
the speech of these people. Not trusting his own ear in the matter,
he sent Comhit about to talk to them, and reported afterward that
both not only had understood what was said, but had made their own
selves understood. Neither of them could make out a word in the poor
village we had just passed through, nor anywhere else on the road in
the Bontok country.

We now began the long descent to Tinglayan, seven miles, most of us
walking and leading our ponies. At Tinglayan, instead of the usual
cheerful crowd waiting to welcome us, we found only a few extremely
sullen men and women, who held themselves persistently aloof. There
were no children, neither were chickens nor eggs offered--a bad
sign. This reception was due entirely to the refusal of the authorities
to give up the Constabulary private that had but recently shot and
killed the head man of the _ranchería_, as already explained. However,
in time, Mr. Worcester prevailed on the few present to accept gifts,
and we affected not to notice the character of our reception, not only
the best, but indeed the only thing to do. Here we had _chow_. We
were now directly on the left bank of the Chico, and, passing on,
found the country more open, and so better cultivated, the paddies