Until Francisco was old enough to go to school, he spent a great deal of time in helping his mother about the house, carrying water, going to the market for bananas and fish, or polishing the shiny floor of the sala. His mother was very neat and did not like to have the ground about their home littered with leaves or sticks. So, every few days, some one of the family would sweep carefully all around the house, using a broom made of strips of stiff rattan about two feet long fastened tightly at one end but loose at the other.

It was Francisco’s morning duty to carry water from the creek to the house so that his mother would have plenty for cooking. If you had watched him at this task you might have seen him carrying a long bamboo pole on his shoulder. This he filled with water and brought back to the kitchen where he stood it up on end in a corner. When anyone wanted water, the bamboo pole was tilted to let it run out, and if you had asked Francisco for a drink while he was carrying it to the house, he would have told you to put your mouth to the edge of his bucket and drink all you wanted. Filipinos can drink very easily in this way, but you would probably have poured most of the water on your clothes.

The creek, where they got their drinking water, also supplied the water for washing their clothes. Once each week Francisco’s mother and Maria would wade out into the water with the clothes they wished to wash. These they scrubbed thoroughly in the running stream, and then laying them on stones, they would beat them with paddles to get all the dirt out of the cloth. This proved to be a very simple way to take a bath at the same time that the clothes were being washed. The garments were hung upon bushes or spread on the grass to dry before being ironed. Filipino women sit on the floor while ironing their clothes, and, instead of using a board, they spread a mat or blanket in front of them and iron on this.

Francisco liked to go to the market because there were so many interesting things to see and hear. Just back of the public school was a large open square and there, every evening, the market was held. Long before sundown you could see the people coming with great baskets of fish on their heads, with strings of bananas, with camotes (ca-mo'-tes), or sweet potatoes, tomatoes, onions, corn, mangoes, little green lemons about as large as plums, and many other vegetables and fruits, which they spread on the ground to show to the best advantage.

Every night the market place was filled with people examining the articles to be sold and quarreling over the price, or standing in little groups for conversation. Dogs, lean and hungry, ran here and there watching a chance to steal a fish and dash out into the darkness to devour it. The air was thick with the mixed odors of fish, onions, and smoke from the many little coal oil torches which lighted each group of wares. The Babel of sounds was almost deafening,—conversations in the native dialect, in Spanish, in Chinese, and in English, an uproar from yelling boys and an occasional yelp as some dog was detected in the act of securing his supper without paying for it.

Francisco was of much help to his father, also, in taking care of the carabao (ca'-ra-bÄo), or water buffaloes. These are large, strong animals that are used by the Filipinos for plowing the fields, for hauling the rice and hemp to market, and sometimes for riding,—although the rider must not be in a hurry, because they move very slowly.

Carabao have a strange habit of wanting to lie down in the mud and water for several hours each day. If their master does not allow this, but tries to make them work all day, they sometimes become crazed and do much damage, even killing people or severely hurting them.

Francisco drove his father’s carabao out to the pasture every day, where they ate the fresh green grass awhile. Later, they buried themselves up to their necks in the muddy water, to lie happy and contented until they were forced to come out again to graze and be driven home. Each carabao had a strand of twisted rattan through its nose, and by means of a cord fastened to this, it could be led and driven very easily. Filipinos often pull very hard upon these cords, and many carabao have their noses badly torn by careless or cruel drivers. When well treated, however, they are valuable and necessary beasts of burden, strong, patient, and able to endure heavy work in a hot climate.