The weather was enervating at all times, and often dismal from the drenching tropical rains, for it was the rainy season. Streams were up and the trails were muddy. During the heat of the day a choking malarial steam arose from the earth as the moisture evaporated. The people were kept much indoors. It was too disagreeable even for a revolt against Spain.
They inquired in private for Saguanaldo, and were told that he had deserted the American army and gone into the interior. Others of the Filipinos had followed his lead in desertion, but it seemed that they had not yet come together into anything like an army. As to his exact location, nobody knew. The Americans were looking for him, too, and the natives were careful, even before Mrs. Rizal and Agonoy, to not say too much.
“The Americans are going to force us into fighting them,” a Filipino told them in one of the villages. “They are overbearing and insulting, calling us ‘niggers’ and treating us as inferiors.”
“I feared as much. The Philippines are too rich for them to give up. They want the islands for themselves.”
“Let me show you.”
The Filipino led them to a hut where a man lay on a mat within, evidently seriously injured.
“The Americans gave him the water cure. This punishment was first learned from the Filipinos themselves.” Said the Filipino: “They laid him on his back and pinioned his limbs. Then they put a funnel in his mouth and held his nose while they poured him so full of water that it ran out of his nose and eyes and ears. It was horrible torture.”
“Why did they do it?” asked Agonoy, with sinking heart.
“In order to force him to reveal the whereabouts of Saguanaldo. You see why I have to be careful as to what I say. All I can do is to direct you to go on still further.”
On they went passing into the primitive. They went even into the region of the head hunters, where the beautiful and symmetrical volcano, Mayon, lifted its green sides against the blue sky beyond; and here they saw the warriors who adhered to the old ways, and, severing the heads of their enemies with the bolos which they used also for clearing the roads through the bamboo brakes, dried them and retained the gruesome relics, reduced to a few inches in diameter, as trophies of war.