The trail we were to take to-day was most of it new, the Silipan Ifugaos having finished it but a short time before our arrival.  We rode through the reddening dawn, down the great bastion of Kiangan, with the Ibilao River, far below us, showing now and then on the turn of a spur, till at last it uncovered so much of its length as lay in the valley, and disappearing to the southeast through its tremendous gates of rock.  For the everlasting mountains, narrowing down on each side, as though to halt the impetuous stream, nevertheless yield it passage through smooth, vertical walls of solid rock, a gate never closed, nor yet ever open.  It would have been most interesting to work our way down to this example of Nature’s engineering, but we had to content ourselves with a look from afar, and soon the trail turned sharply to the left and shut out the view.  The whole valley was keen that morning with its fresh, cool air and sound of rushing waters.  It was a happiness to be alive, up, and riding.

In about half an hour we reached the right bank of the river, where we off-saddled, crossing by a trolley platform; the horses were swum over, and the kit carried by the cargadores on their heads.  My cargador must have gone down, for when I got my gear later it was soaking wet.  On the other side we began to climb, and sharply; we now could look back on Kiangan.  Rounding the nose of a gigantic, buttress-like spur, covered with camote patches, we descended to a small affluent of the Ibilao, where we halted and rested, and, crossing it, again began to climb, the trail being cut out of the side of another gigantic spur.  At last we reached the top, to find a new deep, steep valley below us, and just across, only a few parasangs away, Andangle.  But it was far more than a few parasangs by the trail, for we had to go completely around the head of the valley, mostly on the same contour.  Andangle itself is barely more than a name, but we found here a house of bamboo and palm fresh built for us, tastefully adorned with greens and plants, and protected by anitos, resembling those of Kiangan.  Like nearly all the other places visited by us, it was finely situated, the mountains we had just ridden through forming a great amphitheater to the north.

Our stay here was uneventful.  There is really little to record or report.  This branch of the Ifugaos impressed me as being a quieter [29] lot than the people we had just left and apparently fonder, if possible, of speech-making.  For speeches went on almost without intermission, all breathing good-will and declaring the intention of the people to behave in a lawful manner and promising to have done with killing and stealing.