Moro, way up on the buffalo’s neck, heard me and laughed: “He can’t reach me with his rubber tail.”
“But I’ll reach you, Sir, if you don’t get down soon from your dangerous perch,” said Fil’s father.
The Padre explained: “We sometimes call these animals carabao. We use them for plowing, for drawing our sugar to market, for pressing our hemp mill, for turning our water wheels and sugar rollers, for pulling the huge logs of hardwood out of the thick forest. When the roads are too muddy for wheeled carts, we make a mud sleigh with runners; and the water buffalo with his thick hoofs pulls our loads of rice bags through the ooze.”
“And we eat him too, though his steaks are tougher than cow meat,” laughed Fil.
“And we make taws and whips out of his thick hide to correct little boys, if they have too much to say sometimes,” remarked Fil’s father, who winked at me, showing that his words were more severe than were his intentions or acts. Like the terrier, he just liked to frighten people; his bark was worse than his bite, as the saying is.
Chapter XII
Bats; Cattle; Horses; Cats; Monkeys
“Let us stop here,” begged Fil.