“Nature has kept her rich custard guarded by spikes and by an awful odor,” remarked Fil’s father, as he broke open the thick skin with an ax.
“But it’s worth the trouble,” said Moro, who pointed out the heart of the fruit, which truly was one solid, delicious natural custard, one foot long,—enough for a whole Filipino family.
“The monkeys know how to open the spiked fruit better than you do,” said Fil. “They throw them from the high branches. The fruit breaks open on the ground. Then the wild monkeys race down the tree, and eat up the custard durian. Who said that a monkey does not think?”
Everybody laughed at this odd but true tale of the remarkable Philippines.
“I know something about guava, for I eat guava jelly with my turkey and venison at home, but I never knew that it came from the far-away Philippine Islands. Is it a root or a seed?” I inquired.
“Oh, no!” replied Moro. “It’s a fruit taken from that low tree over there. The flowers are white. The fruit, shaped like a pear, is yellow.”
“What makes the delightful jelly red?” I inquired.
“Perhaps the cooking, or the sugar that is added,” suggested Fil’s mother.
“You have not yet told about mangoes. Please hand our friend one,” said Filippa.
Moro climbed up and up a dizzy height, into an evergreen tree sixty feet high. He brought down in his pockets, several fruits as large as cucumbers, only the colors were red and yellow.