“Oh,” he said cheerfully, “I guess you are right to be careful, because if you neglect those things they turn into tropical ulcers, which are in-curable.”
“Do they?” I said.
“Why, yes, I had a friend who got mosquito bites poisoned just so, and he died of them.”
In spite of this, however, I spent a very cheerful evening, and was quite rewarded for the trouble of going out by the spectacle itself. For some time our American friend remained by us, as he said it was the last chance he would have of seeing us to say good-bye, because he was going back to the United States. We asked him if he were going on leave, but he said no, he was giving up his appointment; which rather surprised us, as he is one of the chief officials here, and has a very good position. But he said he simply could not stand the Philippines any longer, and would rather work for half the pay in any other country.
“Besides,” he said, “I am entirely out of sympathy with the whole thing, and can’t see what we are doing here anyway.”
I said, “But you have the country to develop.”
“Oh, I’m sick of hearing that,” he said. “What I want to do is to go right back to the States and see some development done there.”
“Where do you mean?” we asked.
“Why, in my own State alone there are hundreds of miles of virgin soil which I reckon I want to see developed before these silly old islands.”
“Ah,” I said, “then you don’t like the Philippines?”