228 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



k 



AN AMERICAN SUBSTITUTE EOR HEAD-HUNTING: A WRESTLING MATCH 



(see page 232) 



subprovince. They crowd up to shake 

 hands with us as we dismount and pass 

 between their lines. 



They force upon us squawking chick- 

 ens, produced from heaven knows where, 

 and eggs, many of which are of un- 

 doubted antiquity. Fortunately we knew 

 what we were going to get into, and a 

 couple of boys with baskets receive these 

 gifts of friendship from us after we have 

 taken them from the hands of the do- 

 nors, as official etiquette prescribes. As 

 we mount our horses, again there comes 

 a yell which makes our ear-drums vi- 

 brate like the blast of a big steam-whistle. 

 The wild man likes to yell and he is 

 good at it. We ride on into the town, 

 followed by an apparently endless file of 

 Igorots, marching to the music of gansas 

 and occasionally giving a shout that 

 wakes the distant echoes. 



On entering the town we pass under 

 a series of graceful arches which the 

 friendly people have seemingly evolved 

 out of nothing. We ride on to the plaza, 

 where we are saluted by a company of 

 Bontoc Igorot constabulary soldiers, 

 armed with Krag carbines and uniformed 

 in caps, coats, ammunition belts, and 

 loin cloths. With them, trousers are 

 "taboo." We ascend to the balcony of 

 the provincial building. In ten minutes 

 the plaza is one solid mass of black 

 heads and natty, bright-colored rattan 

 caps. 



At one side we note that the crowd 

 is pushing and scrambling. They are 

 thirsty after the long march in the sun. 

 Some one has brought out a great jar 

 of basi, and the liquor is being handed 

 around in small blue-enamel wash-basins, 

 from which two or three men try to 



