She started to make a fire, but there was no wood in the kitchen. So she climbed down the steps again, and went under the house. The house was set up on high posts, and under it there was always a pile of dry guava branches and mangrove wood for fuel.

Dingo lived under the house, too, when he was at home, and there were baskets there besides, and a heap of peanut straw. There were also an old farm cart and a pile of boards. Two hens had already gone to roost on the wood-pile.

"Shoo!" said the Twins' mother, flapping her skirt at them.

When they fled squawking, she gathered a bundle of sticks in her arms and toiled up to her kitchen again.

"Ramon must bring up some wood for me as soon as he comes home," she said aloud to herself when she reached the kitchen. She threw the sticks down on the floor and prepared to make a fire.

The stove was just a long box standing on four legs. It was filled with earth. First she put three stones together on top of the earth, like this:

Then she piled sticks between the stones and lighted them. She washed four handfuls of rice and put them in an earthen pot. Then she filled the pot with water from a long hollow bamboo tube and set it on the stones. Soon the fire was crackling merrily and the steam was sailing in little clouds up into the thatch of the roof above her head.

When all this was done, she looked out of the window,—at least she tried to, but she couldn't see out because the window was closed and there was no glass in it. Instead of glass there were little thin shells set in a sliding frame, and of course she could not see through that. She pushed back the shell window and looked out. She heard Dingo barking. Then she heard voices. Then she saw Ramon and Rita coming along the shore of the bay, with Dingo jumping up to give them dog kisses. She ran out to meet them and give them mother kisses too. Then they all came back into the kitchen together.

When Ramon had brought up more wood from under the house, he said to his mother, "Manang" (that was their pet name for her), "I am so hungry I could eat a plate of rice as big as this house!"

"So could I," Rita chimed in.

"Ay! What shall I do!" cried their mother, throwing up her hands in mock despair. "There is not so much as a single roomful cooking in the pot." She smiled down at them and added, "But, my nenes" (that was her pet name for them), "may it not be that your eyes hold more than your stomachs? I put four handfuls in the pot. It would be sad indeed to see you burst yourselves."

Rita peeped into the pot. "There is no danger of our bursting ourselves, if that's all you are going to cook," she cried. "I could eat every bit of that myself."

This time their mother did not smile at them. "It is all we can spare to-day," she said. "Our rice-bags are nearly empty, and there will be no more rice until after harvest, and Father has only just plowed the field for the new crop. Last year's harvest was poor, you know, and if we are not careful, we shall soon have to go without any rice at all."

The Twins stared at their mother.

"But, Manang, we cannot live without rice! We have it every single meal," said Ramon.

His mother pinched his cheek. "You have not gone hungry yet," she said, "and if we are careful, and if Father has good luck with his fishing, we shall have enough to eat, even if we do have very little rice." She took down her frying-pan as she spoke and began to make another fire. "See, greedy ones," she said, "I will fry some bananas for you, and if you think that will not be enough, you may run down to the river and see if you cannot find some crabs."

"There are some crab-holes near the fishing-raft," said Ramon. "Come on, Rita." And the two children ran at once down to the river-edge, followed by Dingo, barking joyfully and running round them in circles.

"Take off your shoes!" their mother called after them. "If you don't, you will get them wet and muddy, and you must keep them nice for school."

The Twins sat down at once and took off their shoes. They left them at the foot of a coconut tree and ran along the river-bank to the place where the raft was tied. When they got there, they began to poke about in the mud looking for the crab-holes.

A turtle, which had been sunning itself on a log near by, slid into the water with a splash. A little fish swam slowly down stream among the reeds near the shore. The children saw both the turtle and the fish, but not a single crab could they find. In vain Ramon lay on his stomach on the bank and poked about in the river mud with a stick, getting his arms smeared with black to the elbows. At last he rose to his knees in disgust.

"May the plague take all crabs!" he said to Rita. "I'm not going to poke about here any more. There aren't any here, anyway. I'm going farther up the river and try again. Come along." He sprang to his feet, and the two trotted away up stream, with Dingo at their heels.

Soon they came to the place where old Bobtail, the carabao, was wallowing and splashing about in the muddy water. The flies, as usual, were buzzing about him in swarms, and the white heron was on his back gobbling them up. The ducks were swimming near by. They were catching flies, too.

Dingo did not like Bobtail. Once, when he had barked at him, old Bobtail had chased him so that Dingo had had to run for his life. He had jumped over a bamboo fence on to a young maguey plant. The sharp spines of the maguey had stuck into Dingo. As soon as he could pick himself up he had run home with his tail between his legs, yelping all the way, and had hidden himself under the house to nurse his wounds. Ever since that time he had not liked Bobtail.

Now, when he saw the carabao deep in the mud and water, he thought his chance had come. He knew he could run away before old Bobtail could climb out of the mud and run after him. So he jumped about on the bank and barked and barked. He meant to make old Bobtail think he was a very dangerous dog indeed, who would like nothing better than to snap off his head at one bite.