eighty-five miles between Baguio and Cervantes, which is the first town we reached. The mornings were sunny, but in the afternoon we were drenched and the little log cabins, hanging to the mountain side, where meals and beds are furnished and pine logs are ablaze in the open fireplaces, were welcome havens indeed. The saddle horses had a fine feed, rice in the husk and rich grass, with sweet potatoes on the side. It was amusing to see the little native ponies pitching into the potatoes.
The trail was only in fair condition. In the dry season it is said to be excellent. We had to climb over landslides and ford a good many rivers. At two of them we slid over in a car suspended to a cable, while the horses swam across, natives swimming alongside.
This trail was built with Igorot labor. Each year they must pay a road tax of two pesos or work ten days on the trail. All but the big chiefs among them work it out. We met them all alonga clearing away slides and filling in gapsa under the direction of an overseer of mixed blood. It was only a few
BANANA-LEAF SKIRTS AND DOG-TOOTH NECKLACES, NEAR BANTOC.