Franklin Bell invited my sister Maria and me to go with her on an expedition, on which she expected to accompany her husband, through the mountains of northern Luzon which are inhabited by non-Christian tribes only. General Bell was commander of troops in the North and this was to be an inspection trip. It meant several weeks on horseback, over dangerous trails where, in parts at least, no white woman had ever been, but we were most anxious to go. The trouble was that I had never ridden in my life, so I looked with considerable trepidation to the prospect of a long and necessarily intimate association with a horse. I brought the proposition up in family council and my husband advised me, by all means, to go. I should probably have gone without this advice, but it was comforting to have it because if anything happened I could “blame it all on him.” In fact, I began to do this even before I left. When my courage dwindled a little I promptly told him that it was all his fault; that if he hadn’t urged me to go I never should have thought of such a thing; but that as long as I had promised I should have to see the adventure through, though I knew I should never survive it. He only laughed and assured me that we would have a glorious time and that the trip would do us “all the good in the world.”