The labour involved must have been enormous, and we were assured that when the Igorot bearers, prostrated with fatigue, had refused to continue their titanic task without rest, they had been driven to it at the muzzles of Insurgent rifles, and that some of them had been shot as a lesson to the others.  At all events, the boiler and the bells were there, and there the boiler and the larger bells have remained ever since!

It was still steaming hot at Sablan, and the whole countryside was buried in the densest tropical vegetation.  Major Maus was triumphant.  Things were working out just as he had predicted.  However, as we were already halfway up, we thought that we might as well continue the journey.  I had expected to find pines and oaks, but had anticipated that they would grow amidst a dense tangle of damp tropical vegetation.

We were all literally dumfounded when within the space of a hundred yards we suddenly left the tropics behind us and came out into a wonderful region of pine parks.  Trees stood on the rounded knolls at comparatively wide intervals, and there were scores of places where, in order to have a beautiful house lot, one needed only to construct driveways and go to work with a lawn-mower.  At the same moment, a delightful cold breeze swept down from the heights above us.

Just at sunset we experienced a second surprise, coming out on the knife-sharp crest of a ridge, and seeing spread before us the Trinidad Valley, which is shaped like a huge wash-basin.  Its floor was vividly green with growing rice, Igorot houses were dotted here and there over its surface, and the whole peaceful, beautiful scene was illuminated by the rays of the setting sun.  The air had been washed clean by the heavy rain which had poured down on us throughout the afternoon, and the sight was one never to be forgotten.

Just at dusk we reached the little settlement of Trinidad, which had been the capital of the Spanish comandancia of Benguet, finding that its inhabitants were in part Ilocanos and in part Igorots.

Here we were hospitably entertained by the officers of the military post.  It was so cold that one’s breath showed.  Major Maus improved the opportunity to indulge in a severe chill.  Finding him buried under blankets, we asked his views as to the Benguet climate.  They were radical!  It is only fair to the Major to say that the report which he ultimately made set forth the facts fully and fairly.  It did not suit General MacArthur.  Years afterward, when discussing the climate of Benguet with Surgeon-General Sternberg, I referred to this report and found to my amazement that he had never seen it.  He caused an investigation to be made, and it was at last resurrected from a dusty pigeonhole.

On our arrival at Trinidad we received a letter from Mr. Otto Scheerer, the one white resident of Benguet, inviting us to make our headquarters at his house when we visited Baguio.  Bright and early the next morning Mr. Scheerer himself appeared on the scene and guided us to his home, where he entertained us most hospitably during our entire stay.  The trip from Trinidad, a distance of four miles, was made over a wretched pony trail.