Part 5 (1/2)

”We get gold in two ways,” explained Fil. ”We wash it from scooped-up gravel, and we break it out of rock with a hammer.”

”And how do you melt your iron and copper?” I inquired.

”We dig coal, and use bamboo pipes and a bellows to make the draft. We put the ore into a clay kettle, and melt the rock out of it. Then, when the iron is pure, we heat it again until it is red, and beat it with hammers into shapes. Thus we make it into wheels, spears, axes, and so on,” explained Fil, who had watched the workmen at their labors.

”I know little about practical, mechanical affairs; tell me more,”

urged Filippa.

”We have petroleum oil, just as America has; also, lead and paint ores. We have burnt-out volcano hills, composed of sulphur down into their deep hearts.”

”That is like a very bad place, way down below, that I have read about,” interrupted Moro; and Fil's mother and the Padre shook their fingers at him for joking.

Fil continued: ”We have beautiful marble quarries, out of which we can carve statues and table tops, and tops for seats. Our marble is full of colored veins just like jewels. Then we also have gypsum mines, which furnish both fertilizer for land, to make crops grow high, and plaster of Paris, out of which we make pretty white statues.”

”Wonderful!” I said, ”I never thought of all this, when at home I bought the lovely white statues of lions and birds, from the vendor man with the basketful, on our street corner.”

CHAPTER XI

WATER BUFFALO

We were all so tired when we came out of the wood to the ca.n.a.l, that Fil's father told us to wait until a buffalo cart came down the white sh.e.l.l road.

”A buffalo cart!” I exclaimed. ”I'm afraid to ride in that. We used to shoot buffaloes in our country, and the few now remaining we guard behind iron fences in zoo gardens.”

”Here he comes!” exclaimed Fil and Moro together.

”Boys, boys, be careful!” I cried.

”Let us frighten our guest,” whispered Moro.

The buffalo sniffed at me, a stranger, and would have charged with his head down; but the man who had a rope tied to a ring in the buffalo's soft nose, pulled the animal back.

”Get down, you foolish boy!” I exclaimed.

But before I could stop him, brave little Moro had climbed up between the fierce looking animal's thick, long, sweeping horns, which extended from his large head back to his shoulders.

”Please get into the cart, everybody,” Fil's father ordered, in a hospitable manner, bowing and waving his arm. It was indeed a high step.

The cart had solid wooden wheels, made out of one thick section that had been cut from a mahogany tree. There was no iron rim around the edge of the wheel. The sides of the cart, however, were light, as they were made from bamboo posts with rattan vine woven between them.

The driver sat on the shafts, and directed the heavy animal, just as much by words as by pulling the long rope.

”Why do you call these strong animals water buffaloes?” I asked Fil.

”Because, to escape the flies and the heat, the animal refuses to work during the heat of the day, and rushes off into a stream, or into the sea, to cover himself with mud and sand and water and weeds. All you can see above the stirred-up water are his large eyes and two wicked looking horns, which are as thick as a branch of a tree.”