so easy; flat as
was the country, it had its charm, the charm of cultivated plains,
relieved by lanes of feathered bamboos, by clumps of nodding palms,
by limpid streams. But we were off, nevertheless, the Governor-General
on a cow-pony, nearly all the rest on Arabs and thoroughbreds, Van
Schaick and I riding mountain ponies. We had fifteen miles to go to
reach our first resting-place.

Crossing a stream, we began to climb at once, and as we rose the
plain of Central Luzon began to unroll itself below us, with our road
of the morning stretching out in a straight white line through the
green rice-fields. Far to the west we now and then caught glimpses of
Lingayen Gulf, with the Zambales Mountains in full view running south
and bordering the plain, while still farther to the south Mount Arayat
[11] rose abruptly from its surrounding levels. Now Arayat is plainly
visible from Manila. Here and there solitary rocky hills, looking for
all the world like ant-heaps, but in reality hundreds of feet high,
broke the uniformity of the plains. Flooded as the whole landscape
was with brilliant sunshine, the view was exquisite in respect both of
form and of color. But as we moved on, turning and twisting and ever
rising, we were soon confined to just the few yards the sinuosities
of the trail would allow us to see at one time. For a part of the way
the country was rocky, hills bare and fire-swept; not a tree or shrub
suggested that we were in the tropics. Soon pines began to appear,
and then thickened, till the trail led through a pine forest, pure and
simple, the ground covered with green grass, and the whole fresh and
moist from recent rains. It was up and down and around and around. Not
a sign of animal life did we see, not a trace of human beings.

I was disgusted, and still more disconcerted, this afternoon, to find
my pony going badly. He was perfectly willing to walk, but at a most
dignified rate, selected by himself. He apparently had no objection to
catching up the party every now and then, but only to relapse into his
funeral walk, after contact had been re-established. But then Cootes
took the lead that afternoon, and as his thoroughbred had had two days'
rest, and breasted all the rises with apparent joyousness, nobody was
able to keep up, until Mr. Worcester took the head with his black,
a powerful but reasonable animal. However, everybody gets into camp
sooner or later, and so did we all at a resting-point called Nozo,