The Moro cris, the wooden guns and bamboo cannons and home-made powder used in 'em by the insurgent army with the rough machinery used in makin' it.
Wanderin' on you see the nita huts of the Visayans, big handsome fellows they are and pretty refined wimmen, and hear their weird melodies as they are at work making their beautiful bamboo furniture, and weaving their handsome blankets, etc.
You see on the hillside the huts of the Negritos, black little creeters.
Then you see the Iggrotes, a real village, some of the housen brought from their own land and the rest built here by them from their own materials.

It is jest as though you stepped over to the mountains of Luzon and see 'em at their simple housekeepin'.
I whispered anxiously to Josiah to keep clost watch of his own head, for though they promised to not pursue their favorite pastime till they got back home agin, yet I didn't know what might happen, though I felt he wuzn't in so much danger, his bald head bein' so slippery and nothin' to lay holt on, still I kep' a clost watch on that dear head all the while we wuz there.
Josiah didn't sense his own danger, but whispered, "I'm glad enough Bruno is to home." They will eat dogs and dance their war dances, but I spoze I couldn't hender 'em, so didn't try to advise 'em.

Some on 'em didn't have clothes enough on to be decent unless you call the tatooin' on their naked bodies, clothes.

I see Josiah looked at 'em with interest, and he wondered if common ink and diamond dyes could be used, and if Ury could handle 'em.
And I hurried him on to the encampment of the Moros.

Here we see the men and wimmen dressed in silk and satin, but cut after patterns I would never let Josiah wear or wear myself.