The other incident has to do with my henchman, Basilio, previously mentioned, who later arrived at the dignity of public school janitor.  Basilio had been a regular patron of the circo, so much so that he came into my debt.  One of the first things we had set ourselves to do was the clearing up of all school grounds and premises by pupil labor.  Exactly in the middle of the back yard of the Provincial School was a great dovecot, which spoiled the lawn for grass tennis courts.  So our industrial teacher decided to move the dovecot bodily to another place.  I doubted if it could be accomplished without somebody’s getting hurt, and Basilio, without offering any reason, vociferously echoed my sentiments, and jeered openly at the idea of the industrial teacher’s getting that dovecot safe and sound to the other end of the yard.

I refused to risk the Provincial School boys on the task, so the teacher borrowed a file of prisoners from the Provincial jail.  Basilio the incredulous was ordered to be on hand and to make himself useful.  He appeared in a pair of white duck trousers, the gift probably of some departing American, and somebody’s discarded bathing shirt in cherry and black stripes.  He had cut off the trousers legs at the thighs, and, with bare arms and legs glistening, was as imposing an acrobat as one could wish to see.

I had long wanted a swing put up in a great fire-tree which stood near the dovecot, and while the prisoners were loosening the earth about the four supporting posts, I sent Basilio to put it up.  He finished his work just as the prisoners were ready to heave up on the posts, and, to express his entire glee in what was shortly to occur, he came down the rope a la circo, and landed himself with a ballet dancer’s pirouette, kissing both hands toward the tugging men.  Anything more graceful and more comical than Basilio’s antics, I have never seen.

The dovecot was supported, as I said, by four great posts sunk in the ground.  On top of these was a platform, and on the platform rested the house.  The American teacher had assumed that the platform was securely fastened to the posts and that the house was nailed to the platform.  This was his great mistake.  He had not been over very long, and he couldn’t make allowance for the Filipino aversion for unnecessary labor.  The dovecot would hold firm by its own weight, and the builders had not seen the necessity of wasting nails and strength.

Basilio with outstretched arms continued to stand on his toes while the prisoners grunted over the posts, which came up with difficulty.  They were shamelessly lazy and indifferent to the commands of the industrial teacher, who had, however, the sagacity to get out of range himself.  They lifted unevenly, there was a tipping, a sliding, and a smash, as by one impulse the prisoners jumped aside and let house, platform, and posts come thundering to the ground.  Feathers drifted about like snow; there were wild flutterings of doves; and squabs and eggs spattered the lawn.