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diff --git a/old/64700-0.txt b/old/64700-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9f138ce..0000000 --- a/old/64700-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11773 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Fombombo, by Thomas Sigismund Stribling - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Fombombo - -Author: Thomas Sigismund Stribling - -Release Date: March 05, 2021 [eBook #64700] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was - produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital - Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOMBOMBO *** - -+-------------------------------------------------+ -|Transcriber's note: | -| | -|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. | -| | -+-------------------------------------------------+ - - - - -FOMBOMBO - -[Illustration: "I--I--how far do we have to run?" she gasped.] - - - - -FOMBOMBO - -BY -T. S. STRIBLING - -AUTHOR OF -TEEFTALLOW, ETC. - -[Illustration: Decoration] - - -GROSSET & DUNLAP -PUBLISHERS NEW YORK - - - - -Copyright, 1923, by -THE CENTURY CO. - -Copyright, 1923, by -T. S. STRIBLING - - -Printed in U. S. A. - - - - -TO MY UNCLE -LEE B. WAITS - -_Soldier, Fox-Hunter, and Philosopher_ - - - - -FOMBOMBO - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -In Caracas, Thomas Strawbridge called at the American Consulate, from -a sense of duty. The consul, a weary, tropic-shot politician from -Kentucky, received him with gin, cigars, and a jaded enthusiasm. He -glanced at Mr. Strawbridge's business card and inquired if his visitor -were one of the Strawbridges of Virginia. The young man replied that -he lived in Keokuk, Iowa, and that his father had moved there from -somewhere East. Upon this statement the consul ventured the dictum that -if any family didn't know they had come from Virginia, they hadn't. - -Having exhausted their native states as a topic of conversation, they -swung around, in their talk, to the relatively unimportant Venezuela -which sweltered outside the consulate in a drowse of endless summer. -The two Americans damned the place, with lassitude but thoroughness. -They condemned the character of the Venezuelan, his lack of morals, -honesty, industry, and initiative. The Venezuelan was too polite; -he was cowardly. He had not the God-given Anglo-Saxon instinct for -self-government. But the high treason named in this joint bill of -complaint was that the Venezuelan was unbusinesslike. - -"I'm no tin angel," proceeded Mr. Strawbridge, emphatically, "but you -know just as well as I do, Mr. Anderson, that the fellow who pulls -slick stuff in a business deal has hit the chutes for the bowwows. -Business methods and strict business honesty will win in the long run, -Mr. Anderson." - -The consul nodded a trifle absent-mindedly at this recommendation of -his nation's widely advertised virtue. - -"In fact," continued Mr. Strawbridge, with an effect of having begun -to recite some sort of creed he could not stop until he reached the -end, "in fact, continual aggressive business policies coupled with -an incorruptible honesty are bound to land the American exporter -flat-footed on the foreign trade. And, moreover, Mr. Anderson--" -Strawbridge had the traveling salesman's habit of repeating a -companion's name over and over in the course of a conversation, so he -would not forget it--"moreover, Mr. Anderson, we American traveling -business men have got to set an example to these people down here; show -'em what to do and how to do it. Snap, vim, go, and absolute honesty." - -"Yes, ... yes," agreed the consul, still more absently. He was holding -Mr. Strawbridge's card in his fingers and apparently studying it. -Presently he broke into the homily: - -"Speaking of business, how do you find the gun-and-ammunition business -in Venezuela, Mr. Strawbridge?" - -"Rotten. I've hardly booked an order since I landed in the country." - -The consul lifted his brows. - -"Have you booked any at all?" - -"Well, no, I haven't," admitted Strawbridge. - -The consul smiled faintly and finished off his glass of gin and water. - -"I thought perhaps you hadn't." - -"What made you think that?" - -"No one does who just passes through the country offering them to any -and every merchant." - -"Why not?" - -"Isn't allowed." - -Strawbridge stared at his consul--a very honest blue-eyed stare. - -"Not allowed? Who doesn't allow it, Mr. Anderson? Why, look here--" -he straightened his back as there dawned on him the enormity of this -personal infringement of his right to sell firearms whenever and -wherever he found a buyer--"why the hell can't I sell rifles and--" - -"Forbidden by the Government," interposed Mr. Anderson, patly. - -Strawbridge was outraged. - -"Now, isn't that a hell of a law! No reason at all, I suppose. Like -their custom laws. They don't tax you for what you bring into this -God-forsaken country; they tax you for the mistakes you make in saying -what you've brought in. They look over your manifest and charge you for -the errors you've made in Spanish grammar. Venezuela's correspondence -course in the niceties of the Castilian tongue!" - -The consul again smiled wearily. - -"They have a better reason than that for forbidding -rifles--revolutions. You know in this country they stage at least one -revolution every forty-eight hours. The minute any Venezuelan gets -hold of a gun he steps out and begins to shoot up the Government. If -he wings the President, he gets the President's place. It's a very -lucrative place, very. It's about the only job in this country worth a -cuss. So you see there's a big reason for forbidding the importation of -arms into Venezuela." - -Mr. Strawbridge drew down his lips in disgust. - -"Good Lord! Ain't that rotten! When will this leather-colored crew ever -get civilized? Here I am--paid my fare from New York down here just -to find out nobody buys firearms in this sizzling hell-hole; can't be -trusted with 'em!" - -In the pause at this point Mr. Anderson still twirled his guest's card. -He glanced toward the front of his consulate, then toward the rear. -The two Americans were alone. With his enigmatic smile still wrinkling -his tropic-sagged face, the consul said in a slightly lower tone: - -"I didn't say no one bought firearms in Venezuela, Mr. Strawbridge. I -said they were not allowed to be sold here." - -"O-o-oh, I se-e-e!" Mr. Strawbridge's ejaculation curved up and down as -enlightenment broke upon him, and he stared fixedly at his consul. - -"All I meant to say was that the trade is curtailed as much as -possible, in order to prevent bloodshed, suffering, and the crimes of -civil war." - -Mr. Strawbridge continued his nodding and his absorbed gaze. - -"But, still, some of it goes on--of course." - -"Naturally," nodded Strawbridge. - -"I suppose," continued the consul, reflectively, "that every month sees -a considerable number of arms introduced into Venezuela, as far as that -goes." - -Strawbridge watched his consul as a cat watches a mouse-hole--for -something edible to appear. - -"Yes?" he murmured interrogatively. - -"Well, there you are," finished the consul. - -Strawbridge looked his disappointment. - -"There I am?" he said in a pained voice. "Well, I must say I am not -very far from where you started with me; am I?" - -"It seems to me you are somewhat advanced," began the diplomat, -philosophically. "You know why you haven't sold anything up to date. -You know why you can't approach a Venezuelan casually to sell him guns, -as if you were offering him stoves or shoe-polish." The consul was -still smiling faintly, and now he drew a scratch-pad toward him and -began making aimless marks on it after the fashion of office men. "In -fact, to attempt to sell guns at all would be quite against the law, -as I have explained, for the reasons I have stated. It's a peculiar and -I must say an unfortunate situation." - -As he continued his absent-minded marking his explanation turned into a -soliloquy on the Venezuelan situation: - -"You may not know it, Mr. Strawbridge, but there are one or two -revolutions which are chronic in Venezuela. There is one in Tachira, -a state on the western border of the country. There is another up in -the Rio Negro district, headed by a man named Fombombo. They never -cease. Every once in a while the federal troops go out to hunt these -insurrectionists, a-a-and--" the consul dragged out his "and" after -the fashion of a man relating something so well known that it isn't -worth while to give his words their proper stress--"a-a-and if they -kill them, more spring up." His voice slumped without interest. He -continued marking his pad. "Then there are the foreign juntas. About -every four or five years a bunch of Venezuelans go abroad, organize a -filibustering expedition, come back, and try to capture the presidency. -Now and then one succeeds." The consul yawned. "Then the diplomatic -corps here in Caracas have to get used to a different sort of ... of -... President." He paused, smiling at some recollection, then added, -"So, you see, one can hardly blame the powers that be for wanting to -keep rifles out of the country." - -The young man was openly disappointed. - -"Well, ... that's very interesting historically," he said with a -mirthless smile, "and I am sure when I send in my expense account for -this trip my house will be deeply interested in the historical reasons -why I blew in five hundred dollars and landed nothing." - -"Well, that's the state of affairs," repeated the consul, with the -sudden briskness of a man ending an interview. "Insurrectionists -in Tachira, old Fombombo raising hell on the Rio Negro, and an -occasional flyer among the filibusters." He rose and offered his -hand to his caller. "Be glad to have you drop in on me any time, Mr. -Strawbridge. Occasionally I give a little soirée here for Americans. -Send you a bid." He was shaking hands warmly now, after the fashion -of politicians. His air implied that Mr. Strawbridge's visit had been -sheer delight. And Mr. Strawbridge's own business-trained cordiality -picked up somewhat even under his unexpressed disappointment. In fact, -he was just loosing the diplomat's hand when he discovered there was a -bit of paper in Mr. Anderson's palm pressing against his own. When the -consul withdrew his hand he left the paper in his countryman's fingers. - -"Well, good-by; good luck! Don't forget to look me up again. When you -leave Caracas you'd better give me your forwarding address for any mail -that might come in." - -The consul was walking down the tiled entrance of the consulate, -floating his guest out in a stream of somewhat mechanical cordiality. -Strawbridge moved into the dazzling sunshine, clenching the bit of -paper and making confused adieus. - -He walked briskly away, with the quick, machine-like strides of an -American drummer. After a block or two he paused in the shade of a -great purple flowering shrub that gushed over the high adobe wall -of some hidden garden. Out of the direct sting of the sun he found -opportunity to look into his hand. It held a sheet of the scratch-pad. -This bore the address, "General Adriano Fombombo, No. 27 Eschino San -Dolores y Hormigas." Inside the fold was the sentence, "This will -introduce to you a very worthy young American, Mr. Thomas Strawbridge, -a young man of discretion, prompt decision, strict morals, and -unimpeachable honesty." It bore no signature. - -Strawbridge turned it over and perused the address for upward of half -a minute. Now and then he looked up and down the street, then at the -numbers on the houses, after the fashion of a man trying to orient -himself in a strange city. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -In the capital of Venezuela, ancient usage has given names to the -street corners instead of to the streets. This may have been very well -in the thinly populated days of the Spanish conquest, but to-day this -nomenclature forms a hopeless puzzle for half the natives and all the -foreigners. - -To Mr. Thomas Strawbridge the address on the consul's note was -especially annoying. He hardly knew what to do. He could not go back -and ask Mr. Anderson where was Eschino San Dolores y Hormigas, because -in a way there was a tacit understanding between the two men that no -note had passed between them. On the other hand, he felt instinctively -that it was not good revolutionary practice to wander about the streets -of Caracas inquiring of Tomas, Ricardo, and Henrico the address of a -well-known insurrectionary general. However, he would have to do just -that thing if he carried out the business hint given him by the consul. -It was annoying, it might even be dangerous, but there seemed to be no -way out of it. It never occurred to the drummer to give the matter up. -The prospect of a sale was something to be pursued at all hazards. So -he put the note in his pocket, got out a big silver cigar-case with his -monogram flowing over one of its sides, lit up, frowned thoughtfully -at the sun-baked streets, then moved off aimlessly from his patch -of shade, keeping a weather eye out for some honest, trustworthy -Venezuelan who could be depended upon to betray his country in a small -matter. - -As the American pursued this odd quest, the usual somnolent street -life of Caracas drifted past him: a train of flower-laden donkeys, -prodded along by a peon boy, passed down the _calle_, braying -terrifically; native women in black mantillas glided in and out of the -ancient Spanish churches, one of which stood on almost every corner; -lottery-ticket venders loitered through the streets, yodeling the -numbers on their tickets; naked children played in the sewer along -foot-wide pavements; dark-eyed señoritas sat inside barred windows, -with a lover swinging patiently outside the bars. Banana peels, sucked -oranges, and mango stones littered the _calles_ from end to end and -advertised the slovenliness of the denizens. - -All this increased in Strawbridge that feeling of mental, moral, and -racial superiority which surrounds every Anglo-Saxon in his contacts -with other peoples. How filthy, how slow, how indecent, and how immoral -it all was! Naked children, lottery venders, caged girls! Evidently -the girls could not be trusted to walk abroad. Strawbridge looked at -them--tropical creatures with creamy skins, jet hair, and dark, limpid -eyes; soft of contour, voice, and glance. - -A group of four domino-players were at a game just outside a -_peluqueria_. A fifth man, holding a guitar, leaned against a -little shrine to the Blessed Virgin which some pious hand had built -into the masonry at the corner of the adobe. He was a graceful, -sunburned fellow, and as he bent his head over the guitar, during his -intermittent strumming, Strawbridge was surprised to see that his hair -was done up like a woman's, in a knot at the back of his head. - -Just why the American should have decided to ask this particular -man for delicate information, it is impossible to say. It may have -been because he was leaning against a shrine, or because he showed -splendid white teeth as he smiled at the varying fortunes of the -players. There is a North American superstition that a man with good -teeth also possesses good morals. If one can believe the dentifrice -advertisements, a good tooth-paste is a ticket to heaven. At any rate, -for these or other reasons, the drummer moved across the _calle_ and -came to a stand, with his own hand resting on the base of the little -clay niche that sheltered the small china Virgin. He was so close to -the man that he could smell the rank pomade on his knob of hair. He -stood in silence until his nearness should have established that faint -feeling of fellowship which permits a question to be asked between two -watchers of the same scene. Presently he inquired in a casual tone, but -not loud enough for the players to hear: - -"Señor, can you tell me where is Eschino San Dolores y Hormigas?" - -The strumming paused a moment. The man with the knot of hair gave -Strawbridge a brief glance out of the corners of his eyes, then resumed -his desultory picking at the strings. - -"How should I know where is Eschino San Dolores y Hormigas?" he replied -in the same nonchalant undertone. - -"I thought perhaps you were a native of this town." - -"_Pues_, you are a stranger?" - -"Yes." - -"_Un Americano_, I would say?" - -"Yes." - -The strumming proceeded smoothly. - -"Señor, in your country, is it not the custom in searching for an -address to inquire of the police?" - -A little trickle of uneasiness went through the American's diaphragm. - -"Certainly," he agreed, with a faint stiffness in his undertone, -"but when there is no policeman in sight, one can inquire of any -_gentleman_." - -The man with the knob of hair muted his guitar, then lifted his hand -and pointed. - -"Yonder stands one, two corners down, señor." - -"_Gracias_, señor." Strawbridge had a feeling as if a path he meant -to climb along a precipice had begun crumbling very gently under his -feet. "_Gracias_; I'll just step down there." He made a little show of -withdrawing his attention casually from the game, glanced about, got -the direction of the policeman in question, then moved off unhurriedly -toward that little tan-uniformed officer. - -As he went, Strawbridge tried quickly to think of some other question -to ask the police. He wondered if it would be best not to go up to the -officer at all. If he knew the man with the hair was not looking after -him.... He was vaguely angry at everything and everybody--at Venezuela -for making a law that would force an American salesman to go about -the important function of business like a thief; at the consul for -not giving him complete sailing instructions; at himself for asking -ticklish questions of a man with a wad of hair. He might have known -there was something tricky about a man like that! - -Then his thoughts swung around to the nation again. He began swearing -mentally at the basic reason of his slightly uncomfortable position. -"Damn country is not run on business principles," he carped in his -thoughts. "Looks like they're not out for business. Then what the hell -are they out for? Why, they were all trying to pull crooked deals, -overcharging, milking the customs! One honest, upright, strictly -business American department-store down here in Caracas would grab the -business from these yellow sons of guns like a burglar taking candy -from a sick baby!" He moved along, pouring the acid of a righteous -indignation over his surroundings. However, he was now approaching the -policeman, and he stopped insulting the Venezuelan nation, to think of -a plan to circumvent it. - -He was again beginning to debate whether or not he should make a show -of going to the officer at all, when he heard the thrumming of a guitar -just behind him. He looked around quickly and saw that the man with -the knot of hair had followed him. Then Strawbridge realized that not -only would he have to go to the policeman, but he would have to inquire -for the actual address in order to maintain an appearance of innocence. -Right here he lost his order! He damned his luck unhappily and was on -the verge of crossing the street, when the man with the knob of hair -continued their conversation, in the same low tone they had used: - -"By the way, señor, I just happened to recall an errand of my own at -the address you inquired for, if you care to go along with me." - -"Why, sure!" accepted Strawbridge, vastly relieved. He drew out a silk -handkerchief and touched the moisture on his face. "Sure! Be glad to -have your company." - -The man began tinkling again. - -"I suppose you are going to ... er ... to the house with the blue -front?" He lifted his eyebrows slightly. - -"I'm looking for Number ... I never was there before, so I don't know -what color the house is." - -"No?" The guitarist lifted his brows still more. He seemed really -surprised. But the next moment his attention broke away. He smote his -guitar to a purpose, and broke out in a bold tenor voice: - - - "Thine eyes are cold, thine eyes are cold to me. - Would I could kindle in their depths a flame. - I bring my heart, a bold torero's heart to thee." - - -The American was startled at this sudden outbreak of song, but no one -else took any notice of it. That is, no one except a girl inside a -barred window, who dropped a rose through the grille and withdrew. As -the two men passed this spot, the singer stooped for the flower and in -a shaken voice murmured into the window, "Little heaven!" and somewhere -inside a girl laughed. - -The two men walked on a few paces, when the guitarist shrugged, spread -a hand, and said: - -"They always laugh at you!" - -Strawbridge stared at him. - -"Who?" he asked. - -"A bride ... that bride ... any bride." - -The American had been so absorbed in the matter of the police and the -street address that he had followed none of this by-play. - -"A bride?" he repeated blankly. - -"Yes, she married three nights ago. _Caramba!_ The house was crowded, -and everybody was tipsy. The guests overflowed out here, into the -_calle_...." He broke off to look back at the window, after a -moment waved his hand guardedly, then turned around and resumed his -observations: - -"Don't you think there is something peculiarly attractive ... well, now -... er ... provocative in a young girl who has just been married?" - -The American stared at his new acquaintance, vaguely outraged. - -"Why--great God!--no!" - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -The man with the knob of hair came to a halt, and pointed on a long -angle across the street. - -"That big blue house, señor. I'll come on more slowly and pass you. -There is no use for two men to be seen waiting outside the door at one -time." - -This touch of prudence reassured Strawbridge more than any other thing -the stranger could have said. The drummer nodded briskly and walked -ahead of his companion toward the building indicated. It was one of a -solid row of houses all of which had the stuccoed fronts and ornamental -grilles that mark the better class of Caracas homes. The American -paused in front of the big double door and pressed a button. He waited -a minute or two and pushed again. - -Nothing happened. A faint breeze moved a delicate silk curtain in one -of the barred windows, but beyond that the _casa_ might have been -empty. The silent street of old Spanish houses, their polychrome -fronts, and somewhere the soft, guttural quarreling of pigeons wove -a poetic mood in Strawbridge's brain. It translated itself into the -thought of a huge order for his house and a rich commission for -himself. He began calculating mentally what his per cent. would be -on, say, ten thousand cases of cartridges--or even twenty thousand. -Here began a pleasant multiplication of twenty thousand by thirty-nine -dollars and forty-two cents. That would be ... it would be.... - -The sonnet of his mood was broken by the guitarist, who walked past -him, snarling: - -"_Diablo, hombre!_ You'll never get in that way! Ring once, then four -short rings, then a second long, then three." He walked on. - -This brought Strawbridge back to the fact that his order had not yet -reached the stage where he could count his profits. He pressed the -button again, using the combination the knob-haired man had given him. - -Immediately a small panel in the great door opened and framed the head -of a negro sucking a mango. The head withdrew and a moment later a -whole panel in the door and a corresponding panel in the iron grille -opened and admitted the drummer. Strawbridge stepped into a cool -entrance of blue-flowered tiles which led into a bright patio. He -looked around curiously, seeking some hint of the revolutionist in his -_casa_. - -"Is your master at home?" he asked of the negro. - -The black wore the peculiarly stupid expression of the boors of his -race. He answer in a negroid Spanish: - -"No, seño', he ain't in." - -"When'll he be in?" - -The negro lowered his head and swung his protruding jaws from side to -side, as though denying all knowledge of the comings and goings of his -master. - -Strawbridge hesitated, speculated on the advisability of delivering his -note to any such creature, finally did draw it out, and stood holding -it in his hand. - -"Could you deliver this note to your master?" - -"If de Lawd's willin' an' I lives to see him again, seño'." - -Strawbridge was faintly amused at such piety. - -"I don't suppose the Lord will object to your delivering this note," he -said. - -"No, seño'," agreed the black man, solemnly, and Strawbridge placed the -folded paper in the numskull's hands. - -The creature took it, looked blankly at the address, then unfolded it -and with the same emptiness of gaze fixed his eyes on the message. - -"It goes to General Fombombo," explained Strawbridge. - -"Gen'l Fombombo," repeated the negro, as if he were memorizing an -unknown name. - -"Yes, and inside it says that ... er ... ah ... it says that I am an -honest man." - -"A honest man." - -"Yes, that's what it says." - -"I thought you was a _Americano_, seño'." - -Strawbridge looked at the negro, but his humble expression appeared -guileless. - -"I am an American," he nodded. "Now, just hand that to your master and -tell him he can communicate with me at the Hotel Bolivia." Strawbridge -was about to go. - -"_Sí_, seño'," nodded the servant, throwing away the mango stone. -"I tell him about de _Americano_. I heard about yo' country, seño', -_el grand America del Norte_; so cold in de rainy season you freeze -to death, so hot in de dry season you drap dead. _Sí_, seño', but -ever'body rich--dem what ain't froze to death or drap dead." - -"Sounds like you'd been there," said the drummer, gravely. - -"I never was, but I wish I could go. Do you need a servant in yo' line -o' business, seño'?" - -"I don't believe I do." - -"Don't you sell things?" - -"Sometimes." - -"What, seño'?" - -"I sell--" then, recalling the private nature of this particular -prospect, he finished--"almost anything any one will buy." - -This answer apparently satisfied the garrulous black, who nodded and -pursued his childish curiosity: - -"An' when you sell something do you have it sent from away up in -_America del Norte_ down here?" - -"Sure." - -"An' us git it?" - -Strawbridge laughed. - -"If you're lucky." - -The black man scratched his head at this growing complication of the -drummer's sketch of the North American export trade. Then he discovered -a gap in his information. - -"Seño', you ain't said what it is you sell, yit." - -"That's right," agreed Strawbridge, looking at the fool a little -more carefully. "I have not." Then he added, "A man doesn't talk his -business to every one." - -The negro nodded gravely. - -"Dat's right, but still you's bound to talk your business somewhere, to -sell anybody at all, seño'." - -"That's true," acceded the American, with a dim feeling that perhaps -this black fellow was not the idiot he had at first appeared. - -"And how would you git paid, away up there in America?" persisted the -black. - -The American decided to answer seriously. - -"Here's the way we do it. We ship the ... the goods ... down here and -at the same time draw a draft on a bank here in Caracas. We get our -pay when the goods are delivered, but the bank extends the buyer six, -nine, or twelve months' credit, whatever he needs. That is the accepted -business method between North and South America." - -The drummer was not sure the black man understood a word of this. The -fellow stood scratching his head and pulling down his thick lips. -Finally he said, speaking more correctly: - -"Señor, I was not thinking about the time a person had to pay in. It -was how you could get paid at all." - -"How I could get paid at all?" - -The negro nodded humbly, and his dialect grew a trifle worse: - -"You see, if anybody was to go an' put a lot o' money in de banks here -in Caracas, most likely de Guv'ment would snatch it right at once." - -Strawbridge came to attention and stood studying the African. - -"How would the Government ever know?" he asked carefully. - -"How would you ever keep 'em from knowin'?" retorted the negro. "How -could anybody, seño', even a po' fool nigger like me, drive a string o' -ox-carts through de country, loaded wid gold, drive up to the bank do' -an' pile out sacks o' gold an' not have ever'body in Caracas know all -about it?" - -The suggestion of gold, of wagon-loads of gold delivered to banks, sent -a sensation through Strawbridge as if he had been a harp on which some -musician had struck a mighty chord. As he stood staring at the black -man his mouth went slightly dry and he moistened his lips with his -tongue. - -"I see the trouble," he said in a queer voice. - -His vis-à-vis nodded silently. - -The negro with the mango juice on his face and the trig white man stood -studying each other in the blue entrance. - -"Well," said Strawbridge, at last, "how will I get the money?" - -"Where?" - -"Here." - -"Impossible, señor." - -Strawbridge was getting on edge. He laughed nervously. - -"You seem to know more about ... er ... certain conditions in this -country than I do. What would you suggest?" - -The black cocked his head a little to one side. - -"Seño', did you know that the Orinoco River and the Amazon connect with -each other up about the Rio Negro?" - -"I think I've heard it. Didn't some fellow go through there studying -orchids, or something? A man was telling me something about that in -Trinidad." - -"He went through studying everything, seño'," said the black man, -solemnly. "You are thinking of the great savant, Humboldt." - -"M--yes, ... Humboldt." Strawbridge repeated the name vaguely, not -quite able to place it. - -"I would suggest that you follow Herr Humboldt's route, seño'. You can -carry the bullion down in boats and get it exchanged for drafts in Rio." - -A dizzy foreshadowing of Indian canoes laden with treasure, pushing -through choked tropical waterways, shook the drummer. He drew a long -breath. - -"Is it a practical route? I mean, does anybody know the way? Do you -think it can be done?" - -"I would hardly say practical, seño'. It has been done." - -The negro and the white man stood looking at each other. - -"How do I ... er ... how does any one get to Rio Negro?" asked the -drummer, nervously. - -"You will need some person to pilot you, seño': some black man would -make a good guide." - -"Now, I just imagine he would," said Strawbridge, drawing in his lips -and biting them. "Yes, sir, I imagine he would--" He broke off and -suddenly became direct: "When do we start?" - -"When you feel like it, seño'--now, if you are ready." - -"I stay ready. How do we get there?" He asked the question with a vague -feeling that the black man might climb up to the roof of the blue house -and show him a flying-machine. - -"I have a little motor around at the garage, seño'." - -"Uh-huh? Well, that's good. Let's go." - -The negro went into a room for an old hat. He took a key from his -pocket, opened the door, and courteously bowed the American into the -_calle_. When he had locked the door behind them, he said, "Now you -go in front, seño'," and indicated the direction down the street. -Strawbridge did so, the negro following a little distance behind. They -looked like master and servant set forth on some trifling errand. - -They had not gone very far before Strawbridge observed that two or -three blocks behind them came the guitarist. This fellow meandered -along with elaborate inattention to either the white man or the negro. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Now that his rôle of ignoramus and lout had been played, the black -man introduced himself as Guillermo Gumersindo and glided into the -usual self-explanatory conversation. He was sure Señor Strawbridge -would pardon his buffoonery, but one had to be careful when a police -visitation was threatened. He was the editor of a newspaper in -Canalejos, "El Correo del Rio Negro," a newspaper, if he did say it, -more ardently devoted to Venezuelan history than any other publication -in the republic. Gumersindo had been chosen by General Fombombo to make -this purchasing expedition to Caracas just because he was black and -could drop easily into a lowly rôle. - -To the ordinary white American an educated negro is an object of -curious interest, and Strawbridge strolled along the streets of Caracas -with a feeling toward the black editor much the same as one has toward -the educated pony which can paw out its name from among the letters of -the alphabet. - -Gumersindo's historical interest exhibited itself as he and Strawbridge -passed through the _mercado_, a plaza given over to hucksters and -flower-venders, in the heart of Caracas. The black man pointed out a -very fine old Spanish house of blue marble, with a great coat of arms -carved over the door: - -"Where Bolivar lived." Gumersindo made a curving gesture and bowed as -if he were introducing the building. - -The American looked at the house. - -"Bolivar," he repeated vaguely. - -The editor opened his eyes slightly. - -"_Sí_, señor; Bolivar the _Libertador_." - -The black man's tone showed Strawbridge that he should have known -Bolivar the _Libertador_. - -"Oh, sure!" the drummer said easily; "the _Libertador_. I had forgot -his business." - -The black man looked around at his companion as straight as his -politeness admitted. - -"Señor," he ejaculated, "I mean the great Bolivar. He has been compared -to your Señor George Washington of North America." - -Strawbridge turned and stared frankly at the negro. - -"Wha-ut?" he drawled, curving up his voice at the absurdity of it and -beginning to laugh. "Compared to George Washington, first in war, first -in--" - -"_Sí, ciertamente_, señor," Gumersindo assured his companion, with -Venezuelan earnestness. - -"But look here--" Strawbridge laid a hand on his companion's -shoulder--"do you know what George Washington did, man? He set the -whole United States free!" - -"But, _hombre_!" cried the editor. "Bolivar! This great, great man--" -he pointed to the blue marble mansion--"set free the whole continent of -South America!" - -"He did!" - -"_Seguramente!_ And this man, who freed a continent, was at length -exiled by ungrateful Venezuela and died an outcast, señor, in a -wretched little town on the Colombian coast--an outcast!" - -Strawbridge looked at Bolivar's house with renewed interest. - -"Well, I be damned!" he said earnestly. "Freed all of South America! -Say! why don't somebody write a book about that?" - -Gumersindo pulled in one side of his wide-rolling lips and bit them. -The two men walked on in silence for several blocks west. They passed -the Yellow House, the seat of the Venezuelan Government. On the -south side of this building stands a monument with a big scar on the -pedestal, where some name has been roughly chiseled out. The negro -explained that this monument had been erected by the tyrant Barranca, -who occupied the Venezuelan presidency for eight years, but that when -Barranca was overthrown by General Pina, the oppressed people, in order -to show their hatred of the fallen tyrant, erased his name from the -monument. - -Strawbridge stood looking at the scar and nodding. - -"Did they have to rise against this man Barranca to get him out of -office?" he asked in surprise. - -"Rise against him!" cried Gumersindo. "Rise against him! Why, señor, -the only way any Venezuelan president ever did go out of office was by -some stronger man rising against him! But come: I will show you, on -Calvario." - -They moved quickly along the street, which was changing its character -somewhat, from a business street to a thoroughfare of cheap residences. -After going some distance Strawbridge saw the small mountain called -Calvario which rises in the western part of the city. The whole eastern -face of this mountain had been done into a great flight of ornamental -steps. Half-way up was a terrace containing three broken pedestals. - -"These," decried Gumersindo, "were erected by the infamous Pina, but -when Pina was assassinated and the assassin Wantzelius came into power, -the people, infuriated by Pina's long extravagances, tore down the -statues he had erected and broke them to pieces." The black man stood -looking with compressed lips at the shattered monoliths in the sunshine. - -There was a certain incredulity in Strawbridge's face. The American -could not understand such a social state. - -"And you say they just keep on that way--one president overthrowing -another?" - -"Precisely. Wantzelius had Pina assassinated, Toro Torme overthrew -Wantzelius, Cancio betrayed and exiled Toro Torme...." - -The American arms salesman stood on the stairs of Calvario, beneath the -broken pedestals, and began to laugh. - -"Well, that's a hell of a way to change presidents--shoot 'em--run 'em -off--exile 'em! It's just exactly like these greaser Latin countries!" -He sat down on the stairs in the hot sunshine and laughed till the -tears rolled out of his eyes. - -The thick-set negro stood looking at him with a queer expression. - -"It ... seems to amuse you, señor?" - -Strawbridge drew out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. He blew out a -long breath. - -"It is funny! Just like a movie I saw in Keokuk. It was called 'Maid in -Mexico,' and it showed how these damned greasers batted along in any -crazy old way; and here is the wreckage of just some such rough stuff." -He looked up at the broken pedestals again with his face set for mirth, -but his jaws ached too badly to laugh any more. He drew a deep breath -and became near-sober. - -Just below him stood the negro, like a black shadow in the sunshine. -He stared with a solemn face over the city with its sea of red-tiled -roofs, its domes and campaniles, and the blue peaks of the Andes -beyond. Abruptly he turned to Strawbridge. - -"Listen, señor," he said tensely, and held up a finger. "My country -has lived in mortal agony ever since Bolivar himself fell from his -seat of power amid red rebellion, but there is a man who will remedy -Venezuela's age-long wounds; there is a man great enough and generous -enough--" - -At this point some remnant of mirth caused Strawbridge to compress his -lips to keep from laughing again. The dark being on the steps stopped -his discourse quite abruptly; then he said with a certain severity: - -"Let us understand each other, señor. You sell rifles and ammunition; -do you not?" - -"Yes," said Strawbridge, sobering at once at this hint of business. - -Gumersindo took a last glance at the city sleeping in the fulgor of a -tropical noon: - -"Let's get to the garage," he suggested briefly. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Gumersindo's automobile turned out to be one of those cheap American -machines which one finds everywhere. Its only peculiarity was an extra -gasolene-tank which filled the greater part of the body of the car, -and which must have given the old rattletrap a cruising-radius of a -thousand or fifteen hundred miles. - -Just as the negro and the white man were getting into the car the man -with the knot of hair at the back of his head strolled into the garage. -He called to Gumersindo that the _Americano_ was to take him on the -expedition which was just starting. - -The black editor looked up and stared. - -"Take you!" - -"_Sí_, señor, me. This _caballero_--" he nodded at -Strawbridge--"promised to take me along for the courtesy of directing -him to ... well ... to a certain address." - -Strawbridge heard this with the surprise an American always feels when -a Latin street-runner begins manufacturing charges for his service. - -"The devil I did! I said nothing about taking you along. I didn't know -where I was going. I still don't know." - -"_Caramba!_" The man with the hair spread his hands in amazement. "Did -I not say we would go to the same address, and did not you agree to it!" - -"But, you damn fool, you know I meant the address here in Caracas! Good -Lord! you know I didn't propose to take you a thousand miles!" - -The man with the hair made a strong gesture. - -"That's not Lubito, señor!" he declared. "That's not Lubito. When a -man attaches himself to me in friendly confidence, I'm not the man to -break with him the moment he has served my purpose. No, I will see you -through!" - -"But--damnation, man!--I don't want you to see me through!" - -"_Cá!_ You don't! You go back on your trade!" - -The American snapped his fingers and motioned toward the door of the -garage. - -"Beat it!" - -The man with the hair flared up suddenly and began talking the most -furious Spanish: - -"_Diantre! Bien, bien, bien!_ I'll establish my trade! I'll call the -police and establish my trade! Ray of God, but I'm an honest man!" -and he started for the door, beginning to peer around for a policeman -before he was nearly out. "Yes, we'll have a police investigation!" He -disappeared. - -Strawbridge looked at Gumersindo, and then by a common impulse the -black editor and the white drummer started for the door, after the man -with the hair. The editor hailed him as he was walking rapidly down the -_calle_: - -"Hold on, my friend; come back!" - -Lubito whirled and started back as rapidly as he had departed. His -movements were extraordinarily supple and graceful even for Latin -America, where grace and suppleness are common. - -"We have decided that we may be able to carry you along after all, -Señor Lubito. We may even be of some mutual service. What is your -profession?" - -"I am, señor, a bull-fighter." He tipped up his handsome head and -struck a bull-ring attitude, perhaps unconsciously. The negro editor -stared at him, glanced at Strawbridge, and shrugged faintly but -hopelessly. - -"Very good," he said in a dry tone. "We want you. No expedition would -care to set out across the llanos without a bull-fighter or two." - -If he hoped by voice and manner to discourage Lubito's attendance, he -was disappointed. The fellow walked briskly back and was the first man -in the car. - -The other two men followed, and as the motor clacked away down the -_calle_ Lubito resumed the rôle of cicerone, cheerfully pointing out to -Strawbridge the sights of Caracas. There was the palace of President -Cancio; there was an old church built by the Canary Islanders who made -a settlement in this part of Caracas long before the colonies revolted -against Spain. - -"There is La Rotunda, señor, where they keep the political prisoners. -It is very easy to get in there." Whether this was mere tourist -information or a slight flourish of the whip-hand, which Lubito -undoubtedly held, Strawbridge did not know. - -"Have they got many prisoners?" he asked casually. - -"It's full," declared the bull-fighter, with gusto. "The overflow goes -to Los Castillos, another prison on the Orinoco near Ciudad Bolívar, -and also to San Carlos on Lake Maracaibo, in the western part of -Venezuela." - -"What have so many men done, that all the prisons are jammed?" asked -the drummer, becoming interested. - -It was Gumersindo who answered this question, and with passion: - -"Señor Strawbridge, those prisons are full of men who are innocent and -guilty. Some have attempted to assassinate the President, some to stir -up revolution; some are merely suspected. A number of men are put in -prison simply to force through some business deal advantageous to the -governmental clique. I know one editor who has been confined in the -dungeons of La Rotunda for ten years. His offense was that in his paper -he proposed a man as a candidate for the presidency." - -Strawbridge was shocked. - -"Why, that's outrageous! What do the people stand for it for? Why don't -they raise hell and stop any such crooked deals? Why, in America, do -you know how long we would stand for that kind of stuff? Just one -minute--" he reached forward and tapped Gumersindo two angry taps on -the shoulder--"just one minute; that's all." - -Lubito laughed gaily. - -"Yes, La Rotunda to-day is full of men who stood that sort of thing for -one minute--and then raised hell." - -Strawbridge looked around at the bull-fighter. - -"But, my dear man, if everybody, everybody would go in, who could stop -them?" - -Gumersindo made a gesture. - -"Señor Strawbridge, there is no 'everybody' in Venezuela. When you -say 'everybody' you are speaking as an American, of your American -middle class. That is the controlling power in America because it is -sufficiently educated and compact to make its majority felt. We have -no such class in Venezuela. We have an aristocratic class struggling -for power, and a great peon population too ignorant for any political -action whatsoever. The only hope for Venezuela is a beneficent -dictator, and you, señor, on this journey, are about to instate such a -man and bring all these atrocities to a close." - -A touch of the missionary spirit kindled in Strawbridge at the thought -that he might really bring a change in such leprous conditions, but -almost immediately his mind turned back to the order he was about to -receive, how large it would be, how many rifles, how much ammunition, -and he fell into a lovely day-dream as the tropical landscape slipped -past him. - -At thirty- or forty-mile intervals the travelers found villages, and -at each one they were forced to report to the police department their -arrival and departure. Such is the law in Venezuela. It is an effort to -keep watch on any considerable movements among the population and so -forestall the chronic revolutions which harass the country. However, -the presence of Strawbridge prevented any suspicion on the part of -these rural police. Americans travel far and wide over Venezuela as -oil-prospectors, rubber-buyers, and commercial salesmen. The police -never interfere with their activities. - -The villages through which the travelers passed were all just alike--a -main street, composed of adobe huts, which widened into a central -plaza where a few flamboyants and palms grew through holes in a hard -pavement. Always at the end of the plaza stood a charming old Spanish -church, looking centuries old, with its stuccoed front, its solid brick -campanile pierced by three apertures in which, silhouetted against the -sky, hung the bells. In each village the church was the focus of life. -And the only sign of animation here was the ringing of the carillon for -the different offices. The bell-ringings occurred endlessly, and were -quite different from the tolling which Strawbridge was accustomed to -hear in North America. The priests rang their bells with the clangor -of a fire-alarm. They began softly but swiftly, increased in intensity -until the bells roared like the wrath of God over roof and _calle_, and -then came to a close with a few slow, solemn strokes. - -As is the custom of traveling Americans, Strawbridge compared, for -the benefit of his companions, these dirty Latin villages with clean -American towns. He pointed out how American towns had an underground -sewage system instead of allowing their slops to trickle among the -cobblestones down the middle of the street; how American towns had -waterworks and electric lights and wide streets; and how if they had -a church at all it was certainly not in the public square, raising an -uproar on week-days. American churches were kept out of the way, up -back streets, and the business part of town was devoted to business. - -Here the negro editor interjected the remark that perhaps each people -worshiped its own God. - -"Sure we do, on Sundays," agreed Strawbridge; "or, at least, the women -do; but on week-days we are out for business." - -When the motor left the mountains and entered the semi-arid level -of the Orinoco basin, the scenery changed to an endless stretch of -sand broken by sparse savannah grass and a scattering of dwarf gray -trees such as chaparro, alcornoque, manteco. The only industry here -was cattle-raising, and this was uncertain because the cattle died by -the thousands for lack of water during the dry season. Now and then -the motor would come in sight, or scent, of a dead cow, and this led -Strawbridge to compare such shiftless cattle-raising with the windmills -and irrigation ditches in the American West. - -On the fifth day of their drive, the drummer was on this theme, and the -bull-fighter--who, after all, was in the car on sufferance--sat nodding -his head politely and agreeing with him, when Gumersindo interrupted to -point ahead over the llano. - -"Speaking of irrigation ditches, señor, yonder is a Venezuelan canal -now." - -The motor was on one of those long, almost imperceptible slopes which -break the level of the llanos. From this point of vantage the motorists -could see an enormous distance over the flat country. About half-way to -the horizon the drummer descried a great raw yellow gash cut through -the landscape from the south. He stared at it in the utmost amazement. -Such a cyclopean work in this lethargic country was unbelievable. -On the nearer section of the great cut Strawbridge could make out a -movement of what seemed to be little red flecks. The negro editor, who -was watching the American's face, gave one of his rare laughs. - -"Ah, you are surprised, señor." - -"Surprised! I'm knocked cold! I didn't know anything this big was being -done in Venezuela." - -"Well, this isn't exactly in Venezuela, señor." - -"No! How's that?" - -"We are now in the free and independent territory of Rio Negro, señor. -We are now under the jurisdiction of General Adriano Fombombo. You -observe the difference at once." - -By this time the motor was again below the level of the alcornoque -growth and the men began discussing what they had seen. - -"What's the object of it?" asked Strawbridge. - -"The general is going to canalize at least one half of this entire -Orinoco valley. This sandy stretch you see around you, señor, will be -as fat as the valley of the Nile." - -The idea seized on the drummer's American imagination. - -"Why!" he exclaimed, "this is amazing! it's splendid! Why haven't I -heard of this? Why haven't the American capitalists got wind of this?" - -Gumersindo shrugged. - -"The federal authorities are not advertising an insurgent general, -señor." - -After a moment the drummer ejaculated: - -"He will be one of the richest men in the world!" - -Gumersindo loosed a hand from the steering-wheel a moment, to hold it -up in protest. - -"Don't say that! General Fombombo is an idealist, señor. It is his -dream to create a super-civilization here in the Orinoco Valley. He -will be wealthy; the whole nation will be wealthy,--yes, enormously -wealthy,--but what lies beyond wealth? When a people become wealthy, -what lies beyond that?" - -This was evidently a question which the drummer was to answer, so he -said: - -"Why, ... they invest that and make still more money." The editor -smiled. - -"A very American answer! That is the difference, señor, between the -middle-class mind and the aristocratic mind. The bourgeois cannot -conceive of anything beyond a mere extension of wealth. But wealth is -only an instrument. It must be used to some end. Mere brute riches -cannot avail a man or a people." - -The car rattled ahead as Strawbridge considered the editor's -implications that wealth was not the end of existence. It was a mere -step, and something lay beyond. Well, what was it, outside of a good -time? He thought of some of the famous fortunes in America. Some of -their owners made art collections, some gave to charity, some bought -divorces. But even to the drummer's casual thinking, there became -apparent the rather trivial uses of these fortunes, compared with the -fundamental exertion it required to obtain them. Even to Strawbridge it -became clear that the use was a step down from the earning. - -"What's Fombombo going to do with his?" he asked out of his reverie. - -"His what?" - -"Fortune--when he makes it?" - -"_Pues_, he will found a government where men can forget material care -and devote their lives to the arts, the sciences, and pure philosophy. -Great cities will gem these llanos, in which poverty is banished; and -a brotherhood of intellectuals will be formed--a mental aristocracy, -based not on force but on kindliness and good-will." - -"I see-e-e," dragged out the drummer. "That's when everybody gets -enough wealth--" - -"When all devote themselves to altruistic ends," finished the editor. - -The drummer was trying to imagine such a system, when Gumersindo -clamped on the brakes and brought the car to a sudden standstill. -Strawbridge looked up and saw a stocky soldier in the middle of their -road, with a carbine leveled at the travelers. - -Strawbridge gasped and sat upright. The soldier in the sunshine, with -his carbine making a little circle under his right eye, focused the -drummer's attention so rigidly that for several moments he could not -see anything else. Then he became aware that they had come out upon -the canal construction, and that a most extraordinary army of shocking -red figures were trailing up and down the sides of the big cut in the -sand, like an army of ants. Every worker bore a basket on his head, and -his legs were chained together so he could take a step of only medium -length. - -The guard, a smiling, well-equipped soldier, began an apology for -having stopped the car. He had been taking his siesta, he said; the -popping of the engine had awakened him, and he had thought some one was -trying to rescue some of the workers. He had been half asleep, and he -was very sorry. - -The cadaverous, unshaven faces of the hobbled men, their ragged red -clothes gave Strawbridge a nightmarish impression. They might have been -fantasms produced by the heat of the sun. - -"What have these fellows done?" asked the American, looking at them in -amazement. - -The guard paused in his conversation with Gumersindo to look at the -American. He shrugged. - -"How do I know, señor? I am the guard, not the judge." - -Out of the rim of the ditch crept one of the creatures, with scabs -about his legs where the chains worked. He advanced toward the -automobile. - -"Señors," he said in a ghastly whisper, "a little bread! a little piece -of meat!" - -The guard turned and was about to drive the wretch back into the -ditch, when Strawbridge cried out, "Don't! Let him alone!" and began -groping hurriedly under the seat for a box where they carried their -provisions. When the other prisoners learned that the motorists were -about to give away food, a score of living cadavers came dragging their -chains out of the pit, holding out hands that were claws and babbling -in all keys, flattened, hoarsened, edged by starvation. "A little here, -señor!" "A bit for Christ's sake, señor!" "Give me a bit of bread -and take a dying man's blessing, señor!" They stunk, their red rags -crawled. Such odors, such lazar faces tickled Strawbridge's throat with -nausea. Saliva pooled under his tongue. He spat, gripped his nerves, -and asked one of the creatures: - -"For God's sake, what brought you here?" - -The prisoners were mumbling their _gracias_ for each bit of food. One -poor devil even refrained, for a moment, from chewing, to answer, -"Señor, I had a cow, and the _jefe civil_ took my cow and sent me to -the 'reds.'" "Señor," shivered another voice, "I ... I fished in the -Orinoco. I was never very fortunate. When the _jefe civil_ was forced -to make up his tally to the 'reds,' he chose me. I was never very -fortunate." - -An old man whose face was all eyes and long gray hair had got around -on the side of the car opposite to the guard. He leaned toward -Strawbridge, wafting a revolting odor. - -"Señor," he whispered, "I had a pretty daughter. I meant to give her to -a strong lad called Esteban, for a wife, but the _jefe civil_ suddenly -broke up my home and sent me to the 'reds.' She was a pretty girl, my -little Madruja. Señor, can it be, by chance, that you are traveling -toward Canalejos?" - -The American nodded slightly into the sunken eyes. - -"Then, for our Lady's sake, señor, if she is not already lost, be kind -to my little Madruja! Give her a word from me, señor. Tell her ... -tell her--" he looked about him with his ghastly hollow eyes--"tell her -that her old father is ... well, and kindly treated on ... on account -of his age." - -Just then the bull-fighter leaned past the American. - -"You say this girl is in Canalejos, señor?" he broke in. - -"_Sí_, señor." - -"Then the Holy Virgin has directed you to the right person, señor. I -am Lubito, the bull-fighter, a man of heart." He touched his athletic -chest. "I will find your little Madruja, señor, and care for her as if -she were my own." - -The convict reached out a shaking claw. - -"_Gracias á Madre in cielo! Gracias á San Pedro! Gracias á la Vírgen -Inmaculada!_" Somehow a tear had managed to form in the wretch's dried -and sunken eye. - -"You give her to me, señor?" - -"_O sí, sí! un millón gracias!_" - -"You hear that, Señor Strawbridge: the poor little bride Madruja, in -Canalejos, is now under my protection." - -The drummer felt a qualm, but said nothing, because, after all, nothing -was likely to come from so shadowy a trust. The red-garbed skeleton -tried to give more thanks. - -"Come, come, don't oppress me with your gratitude, _viejo_. It is -nothing for me. I am all heart. Step away from in front of the car so -we may start at once. _Vamose_, señors! Let us fly to Canalejos!" - -Gumersindo let in his clutch, there was a shriek of cogs, and the motor -plowed through the sand. The bull-fighter turned and waved good-by to -the guard and smiled gaily at the ancient prisoner. The motor crossed -the head of the dry canal, and the party looked down into its cavernous -depths. As the great work dropped into the distance behind them, the -dull-red convicts and their awful faces followed Strawbridge with the -persistence of a bad dream. At last he broke out: - -"Gumersindo, is it possible that those men back there have committed no -crime?" - -The negro looked around at him. - -"Some have and some have not, señor." - -"Was the fisherman innocent? Was the old man with the daughter -innocent?" - -"It is like this, Señor Strawbridge," said Gumersindo, watching his -course ahead. "The _jefes civiles_ of the different districts must make -up their quota of men to work on the canal. They select all the idlers -and bad characters they can, but they need more. Then they select for -different reasons. All the _jefes civiles_ are not angels. Sometimes -they send a man to the 'reds' because they want his cow, or his wife or -his daughter--" - -"Is this the beginning of Fombombo's brotherhood devoted to altruistic -ends!" cried Strawbridge. - -"_Mi caro amigo_," argued the editor, with the amiability of a man -explaining a well-thought-out premise, "why not? There must be a -beginning made. The peons will not work except under compulsion. Shall -the whole progress of Rio Negro be stopped while some one tries to -convince a stupid peon population of the advisability of laboring? They -would never be convinced." - -"But that is such an outrageous thing--to take an innocent man from his -work, take a father from his daughter!" - -The editor made a suave gesture. - -"Certainly, that is simply applying a military measure to civil life, -drafted labor. The sacrifice of a part for the whole. That has always -been the Spanish idea, señor. The first conquistadors drafted labor -among the Indians. The Spanish Inquisition drafted saints from a world -of sinners. If one is striving for an ultimate good, señor, one cannot -haggle about the price." - -"But that isn't doing those fellows right!" cried Strawbridge, pointing -vehemently toward the canal they had left behind. "It isn't doing those -particular individuals right!" - -"A great many Americans did not want to join the army during the war. -Was it right to draft them?" Gumersindo paused a moment, and then -added: "No, Señor Strawbridge; back of every aristocracy stands a -group of workers represented by the 'reds.' It is the price of leisure -for the superior man, and without leisure there is no superiority. -Where one man thinks and feels and flowers into genius, señor, ten -must slave. Weeds must die that fruit may grow. And that is the whole -content of humanity, señor, its fruit." - - -Two hours later the negro pointed out a distant town purpling the -horizon. It was Canalejos. - -Strawbridge rode forward, looking at General Fombombo's capital city. -The houses were built so closely together that they resembled a walled -town. As the buildings were constructed of sun-dried brick, the -metropolis was a warm yellow in common with the savannahs. It was as if -the city were a part of the soil, as if the winds and sunshine somehow -had fashioned these architectural shapes as they had the mesas of New -Mexico and Arizona. - -The whole scene was suffused with the saffron light of deep afternoon. -It reminded the drummer of a play he had seen just before leaving New -York. He could not recall the name of the play, but it opened with a -desert scene, and a beggar sitting in front of a temple. There was just -such a solemn yellow sunset as this. - -As the drummer thought of these things the motor had drawn close enough -to Canalejos for him to make out some of the details of the picture. -Now he could see a procession of people moving along the yellow walls -of the city. Presently, above the putter of the automobile, he heard -snatches of a melancholy singing. The bull-fighter leaned forward in -his seat and watched and listened. Presently he said with a certain -note of concern in his voice: - -"Gumersindo, that's a wedding!" - -"I believe it is," agreed the editor. - -Lubito hesitated, then said: - -"Would you mind putting on a little more speed, señor? It ... it would -be interesting to find out whose wedding it is." - -Without comment the negro fed more gasolene. As the motor whirled -cityward, the bull-fighter sat with both hands gripping the front seat, -staring intently as the wedding music of the peons came to them, with -its long-drawn, melancholy burden. - -Strawbridge leaned back, listening and looking. He was still thinking -about the play in New York and regretting the fact that in real -life one never saw any such dramatic openings. In real life it was -always just work, work, work--going after an order, or collecting -a bill--never any drama or romance, just dull, prosy, commonplace -business ... such as this. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -Canalejos was no exception to the general rule that all Venezuelan -cities function upon a war basis. At the entrance of a _calle_, -just outside the city wall, stood a faded green sentry-box. As the -motor drove up, a sentry popped out of the box, with a briskness and -precision unusual in Venezuela. He stood chin up, heels together, quite -as if he were under some German martinet. With a snap he handed the -motorists the police register and jerked out, from somewhere down in -his thorax, military fashion: - -"Hup ... your names ... point of departure ... destination ... -profession...." - -It amused Strawbridge to see a South American performing such military -antics. It was like a child playing soldier. He was moved to mimic the -little fellow by grunting back in the same tones, "Hup ... Strawbridge -... Caracas ... Canalejos ... sell guns and ammunition...." Then he -wrote those answers in the book. - -An anxious look flitted across the face of the sentry at this -jocularity. His stiff "eyes front" flickered an instant toward the -sentry-box. While the negro and the bull-fighter were filling in the -register, a peon came riding up on a black horse. He stopped just -behind the motor and with the immense patience of his kind awaited his -turn. - -While his two companions were signing, Strawbridge yielded to that -impulse for horse-play which so often attacks Americans who are young -and full-blooded. He leaned out of the motor very solemnly, lifted -the cap of the sentry, turned the visor behind, and replaced it on -his head. The effect was faintly but undeniably comic. The little -soldier's face went beet-colored. At the same moment came a movement -inside the sentry-box and out of the door stepped a somewhat corpulent -man wearing the epaulettes, gold braid, and stars of a general. He -was the most dignified man and had the most penetrating eyes that -Strawbridge had ever seen in his life. He had that peculiar possessive -air about him which Strawbridge had felt when once, at a New York -banquet, he saw J. P. Morgan. By merely stepping out of the sentry-box -this man seemed to appropriate the _calle_, the motor and men, and -the llanos beyond the town. Strawbridge instantly knew that he was in -the presence of General Adriano Fombombo, and the gaucherie of having -turned around the little sentry's cap set up a sharp sinking feeling in -the drummer's chest. For this one stupid bit of foolery he might very -well forfeit his whole order for munitions. - -Gumersindo leaped out of the car and, with a deep bow, removed his hat. - -"Your Excellency, I have the pleasure to report that I accomplished -your mission without difficulty, that I have procured an American -gentleman whom, if you will allow me the privilege, I will present. -General Fombombo, this is Señor Tomas Strawbridge of New York city." - -By this time Strawbridge had scrambled out of the motor and extended -his hand. - -The general, although he was not so tall as the American, nor, really, -so large, drew Strawbridge to him, somehow as if the drummer were a -small boy. - -"I see your long journey from Caracas has not quite exhausted you," he -said, with a faint gleam of amusement in his eyes. - -Strawbridge felt a deep relief. He glanced at the soldier's cap and -began to laugh. - -"Thank you," he said; "I manage to travel very well." - -The general turned to the negro. - -"Gumersindo, telephone my _casa_ that Señor Strawbridge will occupy the -chamber overlooking the river." - -The drummer put up a hand in protest. - -"Now, General, I'll go on to the hotel." - -The general erased the objection: - -"There are no hotels in Canalejos, Señor Strawbridge; a few little -eating-houses which the peons use when they come in from the llanos, -that is all." - -By this time Strawbridge's embarrassment had vanished. The general -somehow magnified him, set him up on a plane the salesman had never -occupied before. - -"Well, General," he began cheerfully, using the American formula, -"how's business here in Canalejos?" - -"Business?" repeated the soldier, suavely. "Let me see, ... business. -You refer, I presume, to commercial products?" - -"Why, yes," agreed the drummer, rather surprised. - -"_Pues_, the peons, I believe, are gathering balata. The cocoa -estancias will be sending in their yield at the end of this month; -tonka-beans--" - -"Are prices holding up well?" interrupted Strawbridge, with the affable -discourtesy of an American who never quite waits till his question is -answered. - -"I believe so, Señor Strawbridge; or, rather, I assume so; I have -not seen a market quotation in...." He turned to the editor: "Señor -Gumersindo, you are a journalist; are you _au courant_ with the market -reports?" - -The negro made a slight bow. - -"On what commodity, your Excellency?" - -"What commodity are you particularly interested in, Señor Strawbridge?" -inquired the soldier. - -"Why ... er ... just the general trend of the market," said -Strawbridge, with a feeling that his little excursion into that -peculiar mechanical talk of business, markets, prices, which was so -dear to his heart, had not come off very well. - -"There has been, I believe, an advance in some prices and a decline in -others," generalized Gumersindo; "the usual seasonal fluctuations." - -"_Sí, gracias_," acknowledged the general. "Señor Gumersindo, during -Señor Strawbridge's residence in Canalejos, you will kindly furnish him -the daily market quotations." - -"_Sí_, señor." - -The matter of business was settled and disposed of. Came that slight -hiatus in which hosts wait for a guest to decide what shall be the -next topic. The drummer thought rapidly over his repertoire; he -thought of baseball, of Teilman's race in the batting column; one or -two smoking-car jokes popped into his head but were discarded. He -considered discussing the probable Republican majority Ohio would show -in the next presidential election. He had a little book in his vest -pocket which gave the vote by states for the past decade. In Pullman -smoking-compartments the drummer had found it to be an arsenal of -debate. He could make terrific political forecasts and prove them -by this little book. But, with his very fingers on it, he decided -against talking Ohio politics to an insurgent general in Rio Negro. His -thoughts boggled at business again, at the prices of things, when he -glanced about and saw Lubito, who had been entirely neglected during -this colloquy. The drummer at once seized on his companion to bridge -the hiatus. He drew the _espada_ to him with a gesture. - -"General Fombombo," he said with a salesman's ebullience, "meet Señor -Lubito. Señor Lubito is a bull-fighter, General, and they tell me he -pulls a nasty sword." - -The general nodded pleasantly to the torero. - -"I am very glad you have come to Canalejos, Señor Lubito. I think I -shall order in some bulls and have an exhibition of your art. If you -care to look at our bull-ring in Canalejos, you will find it in the -eastern part of our city." He pointed in the direction and apparently -brushed the bull-fighter away, for Lubito bowed with the muscular -suppleness of his calling and took himself off in the direction -indicated. - -At that moment the general observed the peon on the black horse, who -as yet had not dared to present himself at the sentry-box before the -_caballeros_. - -"What are you doing on that horse, _bribon_?" asked the general. - -"I was waiting to enter, your Excellency," explained the fellow, -hurriedly. - -"Your name?" - -"Guillermo Fando, your Excellency." - -"Is that your horse?" - -"_Sí_, your Excellency." - -"Take it to my cavalry barracks and deliver it to Coronel Saturnino. A -donkey will serve your purpose." - -Fando's mouth dropped open. He stared at the President. - -"T-take my _caballo_ to the ... the cavalry...." - -A little flicker came into the black eyes of the dictator. He said in a -somewhat lower tone: - -"Is it possible, Fando, that you do not understand Spanish? Perhaps a -little season in La Fortuna...." - -The peon's face went mud-colored. "_P-pardon, su excellencia!_" he -stuttered, and the next moment thrust his heels into the black's side -and went clattering up the narrow _calle_, filling the drowsy afternoon -with clamor. - -The general watched him disappear, and then turned to Strawbridge. - -"_Caramba!_ the devil himself must be getting into these peons! -Speaking to me after I had instructed him!" - -The completely proprietary air of the general camouflaged under a -semblance of military discipline the taking of the horse from the -peon. It was only after the three men were in Gumersindo's car and -on their way to the President's palace that the implications of the -incident developed in the drummer's mind. The peon was not in the army; -the horse belonged to the peon, and yet Fombombo had taken it with a -mere glance and word. - -Evening was gathering now. The motor rolled through a street of dark -little shops. Here and there a candle-flame pricked a black interior. -Above the level line of roofs the east gushed with a wide orange light. - -The dictator and the editor had respected the musing mood of their -guest and were now talking to each other in low tones. They were -discussing Pio Barajo's novels. - -In the course of their trip the drummer had that characteristic -American feeling that he was wasting time, that here in the car he -might get some idea of the general's needs in the way of guns and -ammunition. In a pause of the talk about Barajo, he made a tentative -effort to speak of the business which had brought him to Canalejos, but -the general smoothed this wrinkle out of the conversation, and the talk -veered around to Zamacois. - -The drummer had dropped back into his original thoughts about the -injustice and inequalities of life here in Rio Negro, and what the -American people would do in such circumstances, when the motor turned -into Plaza Mayor and the motorists saw a procession of torches marching -beneath the trees on the other side of the square. Then the drummer -observed that the automobile in which he rode and the moving line of -torches were converging on the dark front of a massive building. He -watched the flames without interest until his own conveyance and the -marchers came to a halt in front of the great spread of ornamental -stairs that flowed out of the entrance of the palace. A priest in a -cassock stood at the head of the procession, and immediately behind -him were two peons, a young man and a girl, both in wedding finery. -They evidently had come for the legal ceremony which in Venezuela must -follow the religious ceremony, for as the car stopped a number of -voices became audible: "There is his Excellency!" "In the motor, not in -the _palacio_!" The priest lifted his voice: - -"Your Excellency, here are a man and a woman who desire--" - -While the priest was speaking, a graceful figure ran up the ornamental -steps and stood out strongly against the white marble. - -"Your Excellency," he called, "I must object to this wedding! I require -time. I represent the father of the bride. It is my paternal duty, your -Excellency, to investigate this suitor." - -Every one in the line stared at the figure on the steps. The priest -began in an astonished voice: - -"How is this, my son?" - -"I represent the father of this girl," asserted the man on the steps, -warmly. "I must look into the character of this bridegroom. A father, -your Excellency, is a tender relation." - -A sudden outbreak came from the party: - -"Who is this man?" "What does he mean by 'father'? Madruja's father is -with the 'reds.'" - -General Fombombo, who had been watching the little scene passively, -from the motor, now scrutinized the girl herself. It drew Strawbridge's -attention to her. She was a tall pantheress of a girl, and the wavering -torchlight at one moment displayed and the next concealed her rather -wild black eyes, full lips, and a certain untamed beauty of face. Her -husband-elect was a hard, weather-worn youth. The coupling together of -two such creatures did seem rather incongruous. - -General Fombombo asked a few questions as he stepped out of the car: -Who was she? What claim had the man on the steps? He received a chorus -of answers none of which were intelligible. All the while he kept -scrutinizing the girl, appraising the contours visible through the -bridal veil. At last he waggled a finger and said: - -"_Cá! Cá!_ I will decide this later. The señorita may occupy the west -room of the palace to-night, and later I will go into this matter more -carefully. I have guests now." He clapped his hands. "Ho, guards!" he -called, "conduct the señorita to the west room for the night." - -Two soldiers in uniform came running down the steps. The line of -marchers shrank from the armed men. The girl stared large-eyed at this -swift turn in her affairs. Suddenly she clutched her betrothed's arm. - -"Esteban!" she cried. "Esteban!" - -The groom stood staring, apparently unable to move as the soldiers -hurried down the steps. - -By this time General Fombombo was escorting the drummer courteously up -the stairs into the deeply recessed entrance of the palace. Strawbridge -could not resist looking back to see the outcome of this singular -wedding. But now the torchbearers were scattering and all the drummer -could see was a confused movement in the gloom, and now and then he -heard the sharp, broken shrieks of a woman. - -His observations were cut short by General Fombombo who, at the top of -the stairs, made a deep bow: - -"My house and all that it contains are yours, señor." - -Strawbridge bowed as to this stereotype he made the formal response, -"And yours also." - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -As the general led the way into the palace, through a broad entrance -hall, the cry of the peon girl still clung to the fringe of Thomas -Strawbridge's mind. He put it resolutely aside, and assumed his -professional business attitude. That is to say, a manner of -complimentary intimacy such as an American drummer always assumes -toward a prospective buyer. He laid a warm hand on the general's arm, -and indicated some large oil paintings hung along the hallway. He said -they were "nifty." He suggested that the general was pretty well fixed, -and asked how long he had lived here, in the palace. - -"Ever since I seized control of the government in Rio Negro," answered -the dictator, simply. - -For some reason the reply disconcerted Strawbridge. He had not expected -so bald a statement. At that moment came the ripple of a piano from one -of the rooms off the hallway. The notes rose and fell, massed by some -skilful performer into a continuous tone. Strawbridge listened to it -and complimented it. - -"Pretty music," he said. - -"That is my wife playing--the Señora Fombombo." - -"_Is_ it!" The drummer's accent congratulated the general on having a -wife who could play so well. He tilted his head so the general could -see that he was listening and admiring. - -"Do you like that sort of music, General?" he asked breezily. - -"What sort?" - -"That that your wife's playing. It's classic music, isn't it?" - -The general was really at a loss. He also began listening, trying to -determine whether the music was of the formal classic school of Bach -and Handel, or whether it belonged to the later romantic or to the -modern. He was unaware that Americans of Strawbridge's type divided all -music into two kinds, classic and jazz, and that anything which they do -not like falls into the category of classic, and anything they do is -jazz. - -"I really can't distinguish," admitted the general. - -"You bet I can!" declared Strawbridge, briskly. "That's classic. It -hasn't got the jump to it, General, the rump-ty, dump-ty, boom! I can -feel the lack, you know, the something that's missing. I play a little -myself." - -The general murmured an acknowledgment of the salesman's virtuosity, -and almost at the same moment sounds from the piano ceased. A little -later the door of the salon opened and into the hall stepped a slight -figure dressed in the bonnet and black robe of a nun. - -For such a woman to come out of the music-room gave the drummer a faint -surprise; then he surmised that this was one of the sisters from some -near-by convent who had come to give piano lessons to Señora Fombombo. -The idea was immediately upset by the general: - -"Dolores," and, as the nun turned, "Señora Fombombo, allow me to -present my friend, Señor Strawbridge." - -The strangeness of being presented to a nun who was also the general's -wife disconcerted Strawbridge. The girl in the robe was bowing and -placing their home at his disposal. The drummer was saying vague things -in response: "Very grateful.... The general had insisted.... He hoped -that she would feel better soon...." Where under heaven Strawbridge had -fished up this last sentiment, he did not know. His face flushed red -at so foolish a remark. Señora Fombombo smiled briefly and kindly and -went her way down the passage, a somber, religious figure. Presently -she opened one of the dull mahogany doors and disappeared. - -The general stood looking after his wife thoughtfully and then answered -the question which he knew was in his guest's mind: - -"My wife wears that costume on account of a vow. Her sister was ill -in Madrid, and my wife vowed to the Virgin that if her sister were -restored she would wear a Carmelitish habit." - -"And she's doing it?" ejaculated Strawbridge, in an amazed voice. - -The general made a gesture. - -"Her sister was restored." - -The American began impulsively: - -"Well, I must say that's rather rough on.... Why, her vow had nothing -to do with.... You know her sister would have...." It seemed that -none of the sentences which the American began could be concluded -with courtesy. Finally he was left suspended in air, with a slight -perspiration on his face. He drew out a silk handkerchief, dabbed his -face, and wiped his wrists. - -"General," he floundered on to solider ground, "now, about how many -rifles are you going to want?" - -The dictator looked at him, almost as much at loss as the drummer had -been. - -"Rifles?" - -"Yes," proceeded the drummer, becoming quite his enthusiastic self -again at this veering back to business. "You see, it will depend upon -what you are going to do with 'em, how many you will need. If you are -just going to hold this state which you have ... er ... seized, why, -you won't need so many, but if you are going out and try to grab some -more towns, you'll need a lot more." - -With a penetrating scrutiny the dictator considered his guest. - -"Why do you ask such a question, Señor Strawbridge?" he inquired in a -changed tone. - -"Because it's your business." - -"My business!" - -"Why, yes," declared Strawbridge, amiably and with gathering aplomb. -"You see, General, when my firm sends out a salesman, the very first -rule they teach him is, 'Study your customer's business.' 'Study his -business,' said my boss, 'just the same as if it was your own business. -Don't oversell him, don't undersell him. Sell him just exactly what he -needs. You want your customer to rely on you,' says my old man, 'so -you must be reliable. When you sell a man, you have really gone into -partnership with him. His gain is your gain.'" By this time Strawbridge -was emphasizing his points by thumping earnestly on the dictator's -shoulder. "A hundred times I've had my old man say to me, 'Strawbridge, -if you don't make your customer's business your own, if his problems -are not your problems, if you can't give him expert advice on his -difficulties, then you are no salesman; you are simply a mut with a -sample case.'" - -This eruption of American business philosophy came from Strawbridge as -naturally and bubblingly as champagne released from a bottle. He had -at last got his prospect's ear and had launched his sales talk. With -rather a blank face the general listened to the outburst. - -"So you were inquiring through considerations of business?" he asked. - -"Exactly; I want to know your probable market. Perhaps I can think up a -way to extend it." - -"I see." The general was beginning to smile faintly now. "Because I am -going to buy some rifles from you, you ask me what cities I am going to -attack next." - -A slight disconcert played through Strawbridge at this bald statement, -but he continued determinedly: - -"That's the idea. If you are going to use my guns, I'm partners with -you in your ... er ... expansion. That's American methods, General; -that's straightforward and honest." - -General Fombombo drew in his lips, bit them thoughtfully, and -considered Strawbridge. No man with a rudimentary knowledge of human -nature could have doubted the drummer's complete sincerity. The general -seemed to be repressing a smile. - -"Suppose we step into my study, here, a moment, Señor Strawbridge. We -might discuss my ... my business, as you put it, if you will excuse its -prematurity." - -"That's what I'm here for--business," said Strawbridge, earnestly, as -he passed in at a door which the dictator opened. - -A wall map was the most conspicuous feature of General Fombombo's -library, a huge wall map of Venezuela which covered the entire west -wall of the room. As the two men entered, only the lower third of this -cartograph was revealed by reading-lamps ranged along tables, but the -general switched on a frieze of ceiling lights and swept the whole -projection into high illumination. - -The general stood looking at it meditatively, glanced at his watch as -if timing some other engagement, then pointed out to Strawbridge that -the greater part of the chart was outlined in blue, while the extreme -western end of the Orinoco Valley was in red. - -"That is my life work, Señor Strawbridge--extending this red outline -of the free and independent state of Rio Negro to include the whole -Orinoco Valley. I want to consolidate an empire from the Andes to the -Atlantic." - -Strawbridge stood nodding, looking at the blue-and-red map, and began -his characteristic probing for detail: - -"How many square miles you got now, General?" - -To Strawbridge's surprise, the dictator repeated this question in a -somewhat louder tone: - -"How many square miles does the state of Rio Negro now contain, Coronel -Saturnino?" and a voice from the north end of the study answered: - -"Seventeen thousand five hundred and eighty-two, General." - -The general repeated these figures to Strawbridge. - -At the first words uttered by the voice, Strawbridge turned, to see a -third person in the library, a young man behind a reading-lamp at the -other end of the room, busy at some clerical work. Strawbridge turned -his thoughts back to the figures and fixed them in his mind, then set -out after more details. - -"How much more is there to be consolidated?" - -This question in turn was relayed to the clerk, who said: - -"Two hundred and thirty-two thousand four hundred and eighteen." - -The American compared the two figures, looked at the map. - -"Then it will take you a long time, a number of years to finish," he -observed. - -"Oh, no!" objected the general, becoming absorbed in his subject. "Our -progress will be in geometrical, not in arithmetical ratio. You see, -every new town we absorb gives us so much human material for our next -step." - -"I see that," assented the drummer, looking at the map; "and your idea -is to absorb the whole Orinoco Valley?" - -The general's answer to this was filled with genuine ardor. The Orinoco -Valley was one of the largest geographical units in the world, a -great natural empire. It was variously estimated at from two hundred -and fifty thousand to six hundred and fifty thousand square miles in -area. It was drained by four hundred and thirty-six rivers and upward -of two thousand streams. These innumerable waters would convert the -whole region into a seaport. With such cheap transportation the Orinoco -country could supply the world with cocoa, tonka-beans, cotton, sugar, -rubber, tropical cabinet-woods, cattle, hides, gold, diamonds. - -"But what I have just traveled over is almost a desert," objected -Strawbridge. "The cattle were dying of thirst." - -"_Precisamente!_" interjected the general, with a sharp gesture; "but -right at this moment I am driving a canal from here to here." He took a -long ruler and began to point eagerly on the map. - -"Yes, I saw your ... your men at work." The drummer stuttered as the -ghastly "reds" recurred to his mind. - -"That canal will furnish water in the dry season. In the wet season -it will form a conduit to impound the waters in this great natural -depression here." The dictator pointed dynamically at the configuration -showed on the map. "Young man, can you imagine such a development? Can -you fancy the Nile Valley magnified thirty times?" He waved at the -brilliantly lighted map. "Can you imagine league after league lush with -harvest, decked with noble cities, and peopled by the aristocrats of -the earth? I refer to the Spanish race. You must realize, señor, there -have been but two dominant races in modern history--the English and -the Spanish. We two divided the New World between us. You will agree -with me when I say that the English North Americans have cultivated -the material side of civilization to a degree that has never been -approached in the sweep of human history. Is it unreasonable to suppose -that the other great segment of humanity, the Spanish South Americans, -will cultivate the immaterial side, will establish a great artistic, -intellectual, and spiritual hegemony in the world? By such a division -our imperial races will supplement each other. One will show the world -how to produce, the other how to live. We shall be the halves of a -whole." - -Strawbridge followed this dithyramb keenly in regard to the irrigation -and development project; the artistic end sounded rather nebulous to -him. - -"And you've got this far with it," he particularized, pointing at the -red boundary; "what's the next step?" - -The dictator was riding his own hobby now, and he answered without -reservation: - -"This town, San Geronimo." - -"When are you going to do it?" - -"We will absorb San Geronimo.... Let me see, ... Coronel Saturnino, on -what date do we attack San Geronimo?" - -"On the twenty-third of this month," came the voice from the back of -the study. - -"Exactly. We want to incorporate that town with the state of Rio Negro -before our flotilla returns up the Amazon from Rio Janeiro." - -"When do you expect them back?" - -"Inside of two months." - -"Are they the boats Gumersindo was talking about? He spoke of my going -up the Orinoco, crossing to the Amazon, and then going down to Rio -Janeiro." - -"Those were the instructions I gave Señor Gumersindo." - -Strawbridge stood looking up at the map. A sudden plan popped into his -head. - -"Since I'll be here," he said, "it wouldn't be a bad plan for me to run -along with your army to San Geronimo and see how the trick of absorbing -it is done. Give me some notion of the working end of this business." - -"Do you mean you desire to accompany my army to San Geronimo?" - -"Wouldn't be a bad idea." - -"You would be running a certain risk, señor." - -"Is it dangerous?" The salesman was surprised. The general had -talked so comfortably about "absorbing" San Geronimo that it sounded -a very peaceable operation. "Anyway," he persisted with a certain -characteristic stubbornness, "this will be a good opportunity to learn -about actual conditions down here, and if you can make a place for me, -I believe I'll go." - -The dictator became grave. - -"It is my duty to advise you against it." - -Strawbridge considered his host. - -"Your objections are not to me personally, are they, señor?" he asked -bluntly. - -"No, not at all. My resources are entirely at your disposal." - -"Then I think I ought to go," decided the American. "You see, when my -old man started me out, he said to me, 'Study conditions first-hand, -Strawbridge. Find out what your customer has to meet. Make his problems -your problems, his interest your interest.' So, you see, I am very glad -of the chance to see just how this absorption business works." - -All this was given in a very enthusiastic tone. The dictator smiled -faintly. - -"You are personally welcome to go. You may speak to Coronel Saturnino. -He will arrange your billet." - -"Good! Good!" Strawbridge was gratified. Then he dropped automatically -into the follow-up methods taught him by the sales manager of the Orion -Arms Corporation. - -"And now, General," he continued intimately, "about how many rifles -do we want shipped here?" As he asked this question he used his left -hand to draw a leather-covered book from his hip pocket, while with his -right he plucked a fountain-pen from his vest pocket. With a practised -flirt he flung open his order-book at a rubber-band marker. Thus -mobilized, he looked with bright expectation at his prospect. - -The general seemed a little at loss. - -"Do you mean how many rifles _I_ want?" - -Strawbridge nodded, and repeated in an intimate, confident tone, "Yes; -how many do we want?" The pronoun followed up the impression of how -thoroughly he had identified himself with the interest of his customer. - -Fombombo hesitated a moment, then asked aloud: - -"Coronel Saturnino, how many rifles do we want?" - -The young colonel did not pause in his work. - -"Twenty-five thousand, General." His brain seemed to be a card-index. - -"Twenty-five thousand," repeated Fombombo. - -A jubilant sensation went through the drummer at the hugeness of the -order. He jotted something in his book. - -"When do you want them delivered?" - -"As soon as I can get them." - -Strawbridge made soft, blurry noises of approval, nodding as he wrote. - -"And how shipped?" - -All through this little colloquy the general seemed rather at sea. At -last he said: - -"We can arrange these details later, Señor Strawbridge." - -The drummer suddenly turned his full-power selling-talk on his -prospect. This was the pinch, this was where he either "put it across" -or failed. For just this crisis his sales manager had drilled him day -after day. He turned on the dictator and began in an earnest, almost a -religious tone: - -"Now, General, I can make you satisfactory terms and prices. Every -article that leaves our shop is guaranteed; the Orion Arms brands are -to-day the standards by which all other firearms are judged. You can't -make a mistake by ordering now." He pushed the pen and the book closer -to the general's hand. All the general had to do now was simply to -close his fingers. - -"Señor, we can hardly go into such details to-night." The dictator -moved back a trifle from the drummer, with a South American's -distaste of touching another human being of the same sex. "There is -no necessity. You will be here for weeks, waiting for my canoes from -Rio. They will bring drafts, some gold, some barter. When all this is -arranged I will send you down the Amazon to embark at Rio for New York, -but we have a long wait until my flotilla arrives." - -The salesman made a flank attack, almost without thinking. He gently -insinuated the book and pen into the general's fingers. - -"Now, your Excellency," he murmured, raising his brows, "you sign the -dotted line, just here; see?" He pointed at it absorbedly. "I want you -to do it to protect yourself. If the prices happen to advance, you get -the benefit of to-day's quotations; see? If they fall--why, countermand -and order again; see? I'm trying to protect your interests just the -same as if they were mine, General." - -The dictator returned pen and book. - -"We will discuss these details later, señor." He again drew out his -watch and seemed struck with the hour. "I am sure you are weary after -your long ride, Señor Strawbridge. I myself, unfortunately, have -another engagement. Allow me to introduce to you Coronel Saturnino." -He moved with the salesman toward the man at the desk, a moment later -presented the colonel, and bowed himself away. - -The drummer was discomfited at his prospect's escape; nevertheless he -shook hands warmly with Coronel Saturnino. The colonel was a handsome -young officer, in uniform, and his sword leaned against the desk at -which he sat writing. Saturnino's face tended toward squareness, and -he had a low forehead. His thick black hair was glossy with youth. His -square-cut face was marked with a faintly superior smile, as though he -perceived all the weaknesses of the person who was before him and was -slightly amused by them. He was of middle height. Strawbridge would -have called him heavy-set except for a remarkably slender waist. When -the colonel stood up and shook hands with the drummer, Strawbridge -discovered that he was in the presence of an athlete. - -The salesman put himself on a friendly footing with this officer at -once, just as he always did with the clerks in American stores. He -seated himself on the edge of Coronel Saturnino's desk, very much at -ease. - -"Well, I thought I was going to land the old general right off the -bat!" he confided, laughing. - -"Yes?" inquired Saturnino, politely, still standing. "Why your haste?" - -"Oh, well--" Strawbridge wagged his head--"push your business or your -business will push you. Never put off till to-morrow what you can do -to-day. Why, there might be a German salesman in here to-morrow with -another line of goods!" - -"Is a German salesman coming?" asked the colonel, quickly. - -"Oh, no, no, no! I said there might be." Strawbridge reached into an -inner pocket, drew out and flipped open a silver case. "Have a cigar." - -"No, thank you." The colonel hesitated, and added, "I don't smoke after -twelve o'clock at night." - -Strawbridge jumped up. - -"Good Lord! is it as late as that?" - -The colonel thought it was. - -"By the way," interrupted the drummer, "I'm to go with you to San -Geronimo. The old man said so. I'll get the hang of things down there. -I suppose it pays--this revolting--or the old man wouldn't stay in the -business." - -As the colonel simply stood, Strawbridge continued his desultory -remarks: - -"The old man's got a grand scheme--hasn't he?--canalizing the Orinoco -Valley. Say, this goes: when you fellows put that across, this -beautiful little city of Canalejos will just have a shade on any damn -burg in this wide world. Now you can take that flat; it goes." He made -a gesture with his palm down. - -Coronel Saturnino did not appear particularly gratified by this -encomium heaped upon his home town. He picked up a paper-weight and -looked at it with a faint smile. - -"Did the general tell you about that?" - -"Oh, yes," declared Strawbridge, heartily, "we buddied up from the -jump. Why, I never meet a stranger. I'm just Tom Strawbridge wherever -you find me." - -The colonel passed over Mr. Strawbridge's declaration of his identity. - -"Did the general's plan for canalization strike you as economically -sound?" he asked, with a certain quizzical expression. - -"Why, sure! That's the most progressive scheme I've heard of since I -struck South America. I'm for it. I tell you it's a big idea." - -The colonel laid down the paper-weight, and asked with a flavor of -satire: - -"Why should a colony of men canalize a semi-arid country when they -can go to other parts of South America and obtain just as fertile, -well-watered land without effort?" - -With a vague sense of sacrilege the drummer looked at the young officer. - -"Why--good Lord, man!--you're not knocking your home town, are you?" - -Coronel Saturnino was unaware that this was the cardinal crime in an -American's calendar. - -"I am stating the most elementary analysis of an economic situation," -he defended, rather surprised at his guest's heat. - -The drummer laughed in brief amazement at a man who would decry his -place of residence for any reason under the sun. - -"You certainly must never have read Edgar Z. Best's celebrated poem, -'The Trouble Is Not with Your Town; It's You.'" - -"No," said the officer. "I've never read it." - -"Well, I'll try to get it for you," said the drummer, in a tone which -told Coronel Saturnino that until he had read "The Trouble Is Not with -Your Town: It's You," he could never hope to stand among literate men. - -Having thus, one might say, laid the foundation of the American spirit -in Canalejos, Strawbridge yawned frankly and said: - -"If you'll be good enough to show me my bunk, I believe I'll hit the -hay." - -Coronel Saturnino pressed a button on his desk and a moment later a -little palace guard in uniform entered the library, carrying a rifle. -The colonel gave a brief order, then walked to the door with his guest -and bowed him out of the study. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Next morning the cathedral bells roused Strawbridge with dreams of -fire-alarms. He thought he was in a burning house and he struggled -terrifically to move a leg, to twitch an inert arm. Somewhere in the -sleeping bulk of the drummer a strange, insubstantial entity sent -out desperate alarms. At last a finger flexed, an eyelid trembled, -then suddenly something in the sleeper's brain expanded, flowed out -through and identified itself with the whole body. It was reinstated -as a traveling salesman with trade ambitions who pursued devious ends -through ways and means imposed on him by custom and training. The -drummer opened his eyes and sat up. He wiped the sweat from his face -and damned the bells for waking him. The fact that by some strange -means he had been cut off a moment or two from his body, that he had -engaged in a terrific struggle to regain its control, did not suggest a -mystery or provoke a question in his mind. He had had a nightmare. That -explained everything. He often had nightmares. To Thomas Strawbridge's -type of mind anything that happens often cannot possibly contain a -mystery. - -Nevertheless his experience left him in a dour mood. He turned out of -bed, shoved his feet into some native alpargatas, and shuffled to the -bath which adjoined his chamber. - -The bath-tub was a basin of white marble, rather dirty, and built -into the tiled floor. It was a miniature swimming-pool. Overhead was -a clumsy silver nozzle on a water-pipe. The drummer turned it on, and -the water which sprayed over him was neither cool nor very clean. The -roaring and banging of the cathedral bells continued as if they would -never leave off. - -As Strawbridge soaped and rubbed he recalled somewhat moodily his -engagement to go with General Fombombo's force to San Geronimo. At this -hour of the morning the adventure did not appeal to him. It was rather -a wild-goose chase, and he decided he would tell the general he had -changed his mind, and have Saturnino remove his name from the lists. - -The bells continued their uproar. They did not stop until the drummer -had finished his bath and was back in his room. Then their silence -brought into notice a distant, watery note. This came from the -cataracts in the Rio Negro somewhere below Canalejos. The disquietude -of the water was rumored through the room, over the city, and it -spread across the llanos for miles and miles. It held a certain -disagreeableness for Strawbridge. He liked a quiet morning. Somewhere -on the street a native donkey-cart rattled. The cathedral bells started -again, but this time not for long--merely to gather in the faithful -their previous tumult had awakened. But it all struck Strawbridge on -raw nerves. - -In fact, every morning Strawbridge was subject to what he called his -grouch. He got up with a grouch on. It was a short daily reaction from -his American heartiness, his American optimism, his tendency to convert -every moment into a fanfare and a balloon ascension. This early morning -depression continued until he had had his coffee and the fife-and-drum -corps of his spirit started up their stridor again. It is just possible -that the American flag, instead of stars, should bear forty-eight -coffee beans rampant. - -A woman in black passed the barred windows of Strawbridge's room. The -drummer, after the manner of men, moved slowly about his window to keep -her in sight as long as possible. He fussed with his tie as he did so. -He watched her cross the plaza. She passed under a row of ornamental -evergreen trees which looked as if they had dark-green tassels hung -at regular intervals on perfectly symmetrical limbs. The grace of the -trees somehow lent itself to the girl who passed beneath them. At the -same moment an odor of frangipani drifted in through the bars, out of -the morning. - -When any man is looking at a woman, any odor that comes to his nostrils -automatically associates itself with her--a relic, no doubt, of our -animal forebears, during their mating seasons. - -Strawbridge watched the girl intently until at last he had his face -pressed against the bars to get a final glimpse of her at a difficult -angle. - -When he straightened from this rather awkward posture and returned to -his tie, he became aware that the maid had entered his room with his -morning coffee. She was a short girl, of dusky yellow color, and was -evidently half Indian and half negro, or what the Venezuelans call -a _griffe_. She also had moved about the window to its last angular -possibility, and when Strawbridge saw her she was peering with very -bright black eyes to see who had been the gentleman's quarry. - -At this the drummer became acutely aware of every movement he had made. -He frowned at the _griffe_ girl. - -"Here, give me the coffee! Don't stand all day staring like that!" - -The girl started and nervously handed her salver to him. - -"Whyn't you knock when you came in?" demanded Strawbridge. - -"I did, señor, but I thought you were asleep," she said, a little -frightened. - -It was the maid's custom to find her master's guests asleep, to -steal in noiselessly, awaken them, and administer in a tiny cup two -tablespoonfuls of Venezuelan coffee, black as the pit and strong as -death. - -The incident of the servant-girl counteracted, to a certain extent, -the heartening effect of the coffee. Strawbridge looked out on the -brightening morning and wondered if by any chance her gossip might -affect his landing General Fombombo's order for rifles, because he knew -that the girl in black he had been watching at such inconvenience was -the Señora Fombombo. He felt sure the _griffe_ girl knew it also. But -he decided optimistically that she would say nothing about it, or, if -she did, it would have no influence on his sale. - -The big, somber bedroom to which General Fombombo had assigned his -guest was a good observation point, and no doubt the dictator had -chosen it for this very reason. The scene at which Strawbridge was -looking might have aroused enthusiasm in a more susceptible man. At an -angle it gave a view of the Plaza Mayor and a glimpse of the cathedral -seen through the trees. Straight east a bit of paved street showed, and -beyond that a garden with a side gate facing Strawbridge's window. A -heavy hedge divided the garden from the plaza. Beyond the garden rose -the walls and buttresses of the rear of the cathedral, and this was a -handsome thing. In the soft morning light it was an aspiration toward -God. - -Beyond the cathedral, the wide river stretched eastward. Two hundred -yards down the river bank rose another low, massive building, more -heavily built and gloomier even than the palace. In the uncertain light -Strawbridge thought he discerned two or three figures on the flat roof -of this building. - -A little later the sun's limb cut the far eastern reach of the river. -Distant quivering reflections marked the rapids whose subdued turmoil -brooded over the city and the llanos. The light increased momentarily. -Against its widening flame blinked tiny black native boats, like -familiar demons traversing the fires of some wide and splendid hell. - -None of this interested Strawbridge. He stared at it through the same -mechanical compulsion that causes a moth to head toward light, but he -did not see it. The first thing that really caught his attention was -a bugle blowing reveille; the next breath, from the top of the low -building came the flash of a cannon, faintly seen against the brilliant -east. After an interval came a brief, hard report. - -The concussion not only startled Strawbridge but did some obscure -violence to his sensibilities. It did not roar and rumble and so -suggest the pomp and panoply of war. The flatness of the llanos lent -no echo. The shot was just a hard, abrupt blow, a smash, then silence. -There was something dismaying about it. Then Strawbridge could see the -figures on the flat roof leaving their cannon and descending. - -Like all good Americans who observe a foreign military demonstration, -Strawbridge thought: - -"That's nothing. An American army with big American guns could blow -that little toy right out of existence." Nevertheless he continued to -be depressed and somehow dismayed by the hard and savage suddenness of -the sunrise gun, and in his heart he determined firmly that he would -not go with the army to San Geronimo. In his mind Strawbridge uttered -these thoughts resolutely, and he felt himself to be one of those -strong-willed men who, having once settled on a program, never vary -from it, no matter what chance befalls. - -A gong announcing _almuerzo_ brought the drummer out of his reverie and -moved him toward the breakfast table. As he went he shook off his mood, -and resumed, as if he were putting on a suit of clothes, his quick -American walk, his optimism, and his dashing business manner. As he -moved briskly down the great hallway, a guard with a rifle directed him -to the _comidor_. - -The palace was divided into an east and a west wing, by a series of -patios, and the breakfast-room proved to be a little place latticed off -from one of the smaller patios. The lattice was overgrown with vines. -In this retreat Strawbridge found a small basketry table laid with -snowy linen, on which were oranges, sweet lemons, rolls, and coffee. - -Thanks to Strawbridge's quick movements, he was the first person -here. He sat down at the table and enjoyed the sunshine glinting at -him through the vines. Through an end door of the breakfast-room -he could see the kitchen. Its principal furnishing was a Venezuelan -cooking-range. This was a great stone table punctured with little iron -grates each holding a handful of charcoal fire. Above the table spread -a big sheet-iron canopy, to convey away the gases and fumes. Ranged on -the little fires were pots and pans and saucepans. At the farther end -of the kitchen a wrinkled old negress was on her knees on the earthen -floor, pouring boiling water into an old stocking leg filled with -ground coffee. The beverage dripped out into a silver pot which sat on -the ground in front of the crone. Beyond the negress, in the sunshine, -stood a meat block with a machete stuck in it and a joint of meat lying -on it. Around the meat the flies were so thick that they appeared to -Strawbridge as a kind of wavering shadow over the block. - -A sound behind the drummer caused him to turn, and he saw the Señora -Fombombo, in her religious black, evidently just returned from early -mass. The sight of her gave Strawbridge a certain faint satisfaction, -but at the same time it brought back the vague embarrassment he had -felt on the previous evening. He returned her salutation of "_Buenos -dias_," and was pondering something else to say, when she expressed -a fear that the sight of a Venezuelan _cocina_ (kitchen) would be -disagreeable to him. She had heard how spotless were American kitchens. - -The salesman began a hasty assurance that the kitchen was very -interesting, but the señora called to a servant to close the shutter. -The same _griffe_ girl whom Strawbridge had seen that morning answered -the call, and before she retired she gave the señora and the salesman a -certain understanding look, which linked up in Strawbridge's mind with -what the girl had seen an hour or two earlier. - -The señora herself was proceeding with her table talk. - -"We can get only native servants here in Canalejos," she was saying -in the faintly mechanical manner of a hostess who has an uninteresting -guest, "and they prepare everything in the native way." - -Strawbridge said he liked Venezuelan cooking. - -"It is monotonous," criticized the señora. "The chicken is always -cooked with rice, and the plantains are always fried." - -Strawbridge started to say that he loved chicken and rice and fried -plantains, but even his imperfect sense of rhetoric warned him that he -had already overworked those particular phrases. So he checked that -sentiment, cast about for a substitute, and finally fished up: - -"I saw you going to early mass this morning, señora." - -The girl glanced at him, agreed to this, and continued peeling her -orange with a knife and fork, in the Venezuelan fashion. - -The drummer wanted strongly to follow this opening with something -brisk and lively to compel her attention and interest, but his head -seemed oddly empty. His embarrassment persisted and made him a little -uncomfortable. He wondered why. It was irritating. Why didn't he tell -her a joke, one of his parlor jokes? Strawbridge knew scores and scores -of obscene jokes, and perhaps half a dozen parlor jokes which he kept -for women. Now, to his discomfiture, he could not recall a single one -of his parlor jokes. For some reason or other, he told himself, the -señora crabbed his style. - -She was a smallish woman with a rather slender, melancholy face, and -her eyes had that slightly unfocused look which is characteristic of -all pure-black eyes. Her eyebrows and lips were engraved in black and -red against a colorless face. Her nun's bonnet and the white cloth that -passed beneath it across her forehead concealed the least trace of -hair. And Strawbridge speculated with a sort of apprehension whether or -no she really had shaved her head nun fashion. If so, the Virgin had -exacted a bitter price for her sister's recovery. - -During these meditations, however, the salesman was not dumb. He -automatically started one of those typically American conversations -which consist in a long string of disconnected questions asked without -any object whatever. Strawbridge himself regretted these questions. He -had hoped to do something amusing and rather brilliant. - -"Have you lived here long, señora?" - -"About two years. I came here immediately after I was married to -General Fombombo." - -"Then you were not married here?" - -"No, in Spain." - -"Then you are a Spanish girl?" - -"Yes, I lived in Barcelona." - -"How do you like it here?" - -"Very well." - -"I suppose you miss the stir. I hear Barcelona is the livest town in -Spain." - -"I believe it is," she agreed a little uncertainly. - -"What do they export? Anything besides olive-oil? I understand they -export a lot of olive-oil." - -Señora Fombombo touched her slender fingers to her lips a moment and -then said she believed they exported olive-oil. - -"I suppose the girls go in for business over there, too--bookkeepers, -you know; stenogs, clerks, cash girls ...?" - -"Ye-e-es." - -"What was your line before you married?" - -The señora came awake and looked at the drummer. - -"My _line_?" - -"Yes," said Strawbridge, becoming a little less of an automaton and a -little more of a human. "What was your job before you hooked up with -the general?" - -The señora almost stared at the American. Then she drew in her under -lip and seemed to compress it rigorously, thoughtfully, perhaps to -assist her in recalling what her line was before she hooked up with the -general. Then she said: - -"I ... I did a little music." - -"Teach?" probed the American. - -"Well ... no.... Really, I'm afraid I didn't do anything." - -Strawbridge nodded as if some puzzle had been solved for him. - -"Now, that's where you made your mistake," he explained paternally. "A -woman ought to have a job just the same as a man. She ought to be able -to hold over her goods until the market is right. Now take me: suppose -I had to sell my rifles right now because I didn't have the overhead -to keep them ninety days longer; I'd be in a bad way. It's the same -way with you girls. With no overhead, it's no wonder you married Ge--" -He caught himself up abruptly, aghast at the implication to which his -monologue had led him. He floundered mentally in an effort to turn -it off, but all he could do was simply to moisten his lips and stop -talking. He wondered chillily if the señora had caught it. - -Apparently she had not. A spray of flowers swung near her from the -vine. She drew a raceme to her face and began smoothly: - -"I know feminism is very modern and up to date, but somehow we Spanish -women don't care for it. We are as idle as these flowers." She turned -and looked at the blossoms. "This variety of wistaria grew in my garden -in Barcelona; that's why I had it planted here. It reminds me of -home." She looked up at the American, smiled faintly, and added rather -disconnectedly: - -"It may seem strange to you, Señor Strawbridge, but once I very nearly -entered a convent in Barcelona." - -By this time Strawbridge was convinced that she had not observed -his false step. He was still warm, and a little shivery, but he was -recovering. He said very simply and truthfully: - -"Well, I'm glad you didn't. If I have to stay in Canalejos, I'm glad -there is an agreeable woman in it to talk to." - -The señora expressed her pleasure if she could enliven his stay -at Canalejos, and as they talked Coronel Saturnino entered the -breakfast-room. He bowed to the señora and inquired of Strawbridge, in -his somewhat amused voice, if he had slept well after his enlistment. - -Oh, yes, he had slept like a top. - -"Enlistment?" echoed the señora. - -"_Seguramente_," smiled the colonel. "Señor Strawbridge has enlisted in -the cavalry to march against San Geronimo." - -Señora Fombombo seemed utterly astonished. She stared at the colonel, -then at the drummer. - -"You don't mean Señor Strawbridge will be in the cavalry attack on San -Geronimo?" - -"Yes, señora; I arranged his billet last night." The colonel made a -smiling bow. - -The girl turned to the American. - -"But why are you going to fight at San Geronimo, señor?" she asked. - -Strawbridge hesitated, cleared his throat, glanced through the -vine-grown lattice into the sunshine, then apparently came to some -inward decision. - -"Now, it's like this, señora," he began, getting back the ring and -confidence in his voice which had heretofore been missing: "It's like -this. In order to meet your clients' needs you've got to get first-hand -information." He patted his right fingers against his left palm and -looked the señora squarely in the eye for the first time. "Before you -can grasp your patrons' problems, you've got to make 'em yours. Why, -the first thing my old man said to me, he said: 'Strawbridge, an -expert salesman is first aid to the financially injured; he's the star -of Bethlehem to the sinners of commerce.' He's a cutter, my old man is. -I wish you could know him, señora." - -"You mean your father?" hazarded the President's wife. - -"Holy mackerel, lady! no!" cried the drummer, with a touch of Keokuk -gusto in his voice. "I mean my boss, the head knocker of my firm. Great -old chap, and rich as Limburger cheese. Say, he owns fifty-one per -cent. of the Orion Arms stock, and he started in as a water boy. How do -you like that?" Mr. Strawbridge gave his auditors a little triumphant -smile. - -"_Caramba!_ Very American, I say," laughed the colonel. - -The señora interposed quickly: - -"And very good and very fine, I say, Señor Strawbridge!" She looked -at the colonel with a certain little light in her eye, then added -emphatically, "I am sure I should like him." - -She was rising to leave the table. - -Coronel Saturnino, who was about to seat himself, said: - -"If I concede his admirable qualities, I wonder if you would stay and -eat another orange, señora?" - -But the girl pleaded that she must practise some music in the cathedral. - -Strawbridge hesitated, half-way out of his chair. He was undecided -whether to stay with Coronel Saturnino or to go with the señora. He -decided for the latter and walked out of the breakfast-room with her, -but he was vaguely embarrassed for fear he had done the wrong thing. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -His talk at the breakfast table, with Señora Fombombo, braced the -spirits of Thomas Strawbridge. The girl seemed to bring a kind of -comfort to the drummer. Now as he walked down the long marble steps -of the _presidencia_, the tropical sunshine slanting into the plaza, -the cries of gathering street venders, the rattle of carts, the stir -of pigeons in the cathedral tower all conspired to speed his thoughts -and energy along their customary channel--that is to say, toward -the selling of merchandise. He was in fettle, and he wanted to sell -hardware. He felt so full of power he believed he could sell anything -to anybody. - -And the Señora Fombombo was in some degree responsible for his -exaltation. A pleasant woman always grooms a man for a fine deed. So it -was the Spanish girl who sent the big blond American striding through -the plaza, smiling to himself and seeking whom he might sell. - -It was Strawbridge's plan to go to the general merchandise stores in -Canalejos and stock them up on hardware, by the mere élan and warmth -of his approach. It is conceivable that enough Thomas Strawbridges, -a whole army of them, could bankrupt the manufacturing interests of -all foreign nations, could wither them right out of existence in the -overpowering sunshine of their good-fellowship and love for humanity. - -As Strawbridge hurried through the plaza, filled, one might say, with -this destructive amiability, he was accosted by a voice asking him if -he did not desire a fortune of ten million pesetas. - -The drummer looked around and saw a lottery-vender holding out his -sheaf of tickets. He was offering coupons on the National Spanish -Lottery, an institution which circulates its chances all over South -America, including even insurgent Rio Negro. - -The good fairy who was offering this chance of fortune was a ragged -man whose lean ribs and belly could be seen through the rents in his -clothes. The American paused, took the sheaf, and looked at the tickets -curiously. Each ticket was a long strip of small coupons which could -be torn into ten pieces and divided among indigent buyers. They were -vilely printed on the cheapest of paper. - -Strawbridge stood looking at the tickets and shaking his head. Life, -he told the ticket-seller, was what a man made it, and he could not -afford to mix up his solid success with lottery chances and such like. -What he wanted was certainties, and not moonshine. Here he handed back -the sheaf and moved on briskly through the plaza, a big, well-tailored -American, the ensample of a man who had taken his life in his own -hands and molded it into a warm and shining success. The vender stared -emptily after the drummer. Never before had his hope of a sale inflated -so suddenly, or collapsed so completely. - -Strawbridge had gone only a little way when a man came running out of -a bodega that was down a side street. He was waving his sombrero and -calling Strawbridge's name. The American stood in doubt whether he had -heard aright, for no one in Canalejos knew his name, and then he saw -a wad of hair on the shouter's head and recognized the bull-fighter. -Lubito came up quickly and somewhat unsteadily. His face was flushed, -his black eyes glistened with alcohol, and his bull-fighter's pigtail -was somewhat awry. - -"I was just starting to the _palacio_ to see you, señor," he began a -little thickly. "I was just starting when my _compadre_ in the bodega -says,'There goes the _Americano_ now,' so out I came." - -"What can I do for you?" asked the drummer, with brief patience. - -The torero grinned laxly. - -"You were my _comarado_ coming here from Caracas, señor. You remember, -we rode all the way together." - -"Sure! Get to your point." - -Lubito straightened. - -"Well, would you see your _comarado_ wronged? Are you going to see him -turned into a laughing-stock?" - -"You've turned yourself into a laughing-stock; you're drunk." - -"_Caramba!_ Whose fault is it?" - -"Why, yours, of course!" - -The bull-fighter spread the fingers of both hands on his chest. - -"I! It is no fault of mine. The President did this!" - -"Aw, you're talking nonsense." - -"No, it is true, the fault is with General Fombombo. I am no tippler. -I am a bull-fighter. That's what I wanted to see you about. You are a -_caballero_, and a friend of the President. You can stand up and talk -to him, but he sends me off to see the bull-ring. You know, you heard -him yesterday, sending me off to see the bull-ring, the moment he -clapped eyes on me." - -Strawbridge was faintly amused. - -"Is that what you want me to see him about--because he dismissed you -yesterday?" - -Lubito was only slightly intoxicated, and now his anger sobered him -completely: - -"No! No! What do I care for his contempt? I, too, am a Venezuelan, but, -señor, when any man interferes with my paternal rights--" he tapped -himself threateningly on his powerful chest--"I am a bull-fighter." - -"What in the world are you talking about?" - -"_Cá!_ Madruja!" - -"But your paternal rights!" - -Lubito flung out exasperated hands. - -"Didn't you hear her father, the old man in the 'reds,' place her in my -care?" - -"Yes. Well, what has happened?" - -"Enough! I saw Madruja carried, by the guards, to one of the rooms in -the west wing of the _palacio_. Very good. I followed, and marked the -room. The windows seemed rather old; perhaps the bars could be bent. I -did not know. I was in her father's place. It was my duty to see." - -Strawbridge's interest picked up, as a man's always does when a woman -is introduced into the narrative: - -"Yes, I guess you would be very strict about your daughter. Then what?" - -"Well, last night I slept in the dressing-room at the bull-ring. -That is, I tried to sleep, but I could not. I kept thinking of my -daughter Madruja, pining for Esteban. I got up and walked out into -the bull-ring, thinking of the lonely little bride. Ah, señor, there -were stars! I can never look at stars without thinking of the eyes -of brides...." Lubito shivered, reached up and straightened his hair -a trifle, then went on: "I said to myself, '_Cá!_ A man who stumbles -goes all the faster if he does not fall.' So I made up my mind. I went -back to the dressing-room, in the dark found my guitar, and started -for the _presidencia_. Señor, you will believe it when I tell you I -was trembling all the way, like a mimosa leaf. I slipped very quietly -around the plaza, past the department of _fomento_, and so to the -window where my little daughter slept. I came up softly and tried the -bars with all my strength, but although I am a bull-fighter, señor, -they did not budge." - -The drummer stood looking at the veins in the bull-fighter's forehead. -The fellow went on: - -"There was nothing to do, señor, but to sing, to sing a love-song to -my little Madruja, and perhaps she would come to the window, or open -the door if she could. I touched the chords and began singing 'La -Encantadora,' softly, into the window, just for her. - -"For minutes nothing stirred, but I have a tender voice, señor. You -know; you have heard me sing. It will melt any woman's heart. I began, -'_Mi alma, mi amor perdida_.' - -"Oh, señor, it was a sobbing, plaintive song, and when I had finished -and stood holding my breath, something moved in the darkness. There -came a little clinking on the windowsill, and I saw the faint gleam of -metal. It was a gold coin, señor. Then the voice of General Fombombo -said: 'That is Lubito, is it not? Sing to us all night long, Lubito.'" - -Strawbridge opened his eyes and thrust his head forward. - -"What!" he cried. - -"By five thousand devils on horseback, it's true!" Lubito flung up his -arms. "And me there--her father! My head grew hot. I went insane! I -told General Fombombo I was in her father's place, that I, Lubito, was -in her father's place, but the general only laughed and said: 'Sing, -sing to us, Lubito. As to your paternal duties, your ideas went out of -date with the Neanderthal man, five hundred thousand years ago." The -torero came to a pause, breathing heavily; then, after a moment, he -asked more rationally, "Now, what did he mean by that?" - -The dictator's quip, jest, or philosophy, whatever it was, had not -registered at all with Strawbridge. He stood staring at Lubito and -suddenly began laughing. The bull-fighter at once looked offended, and -Strawbridge began gasping an apology in the midst of his mirth. He got -out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. - -"Ex-excuse me, Lubito, b-but wh-what did he say? 'S-s-sing all night! -S-s-s...." His effort at the "s" rippled into laughter again. - -Lubito flung up his hands in disgust. - -"_Canastos!_ what a man! To see a young girl deflowered--and laugh!" -The bull-fighter turned on his heel, perfectly sober, and walked away. - -Strawbridge also became sober; he even frowned. - -"Hell! putting it like that!" Then he shrugged, and continued his -unspoken soliloquy: "Well, what better could you expect from a bunch -of Venezuelans ... just natives...." His good-natured face began to -form another smile; then he thought of Señora Fombombo. At that he -became serious enough. The Spanish girl seemed to raise some obscure -question in his mind. He made a hazy effort to clarify that question, -but nothing came of it. - - -With this, Strawbridge removed his thoughts from the incident and -proceeded to canvass the town in the interest of the Orion Arms -Corporation. He walked out of Plaza Mayor into a narrow, dirty _calle_ -which was the principal street of the city. It was lined with the usual -ill-lighted, inconvenient business houses which characterize Venezuelan -towns; a roulette establishment, a charcoal and kindling store with a -box of half-decayed mangos as a side line, a gloomy book-store with -the works of Vargas Vila lying, back up, on a table outside. The first -general merchandise store he found had a single bolt of calico on -display. Above the bolt swung the name of the store in faded letters, -"Sol y Sombra." - -Such complete absence of attractive displays was a real pain to the -American. It spurred his commercial missionary spirit. He entered the -dark "Sol y Sombra." It had once been an ancient dwelling. Its use had -been changed from domestic to mercantile ends by the simple expedients -of knocking out some partitions and roofing an old patio. In fact, -when a Venezuelan merchant covers an old patio and thereby adds to -his floor space, he has just about uttered the last word in Venezuelan -progressiveness. - -Strawbridge turned into the shop and asked for the proprietor. The -proprietor had not arrived, but one of the clerks offered his services. -The American introduced himself and vigorously grasped the young man's -limp hand. - -"I'm a hardware man," he began briskly; "and now, if you'll just carry -me back to your hardware department, we'll check through and see what -you're short on; then I can hand your boss the lists and prices of the -very things he needs and save him a lot of time." - -The clerk was a small, withered youth with sad brown eyes that -resembled a monkey's. He looked at Strawbridge and said: - -"My employer will have all the time there is when he gets here, señor." - -"Um ... well, ... we can shove the deal through quicker, anyway." - -The little clerk turned and started doubtfully toward the hardware -department. It was clear that he did not want to go, but he could not -hold his ground against the dynamic force of Strawbridge's enthusiasm. -As he moved along he said: - -"You are an American, aren't you?" - -"Travel out of New York, but my home's in Keokuk. Great little burg; -thirty thousand population and thirty-five hundred automobiles, not -to mention flivvers...." Here Strawbridge laughed heartily, sharing -the wide-spread American conviction that to make a distinction between -an automobile and a flivver is the most amusing flight of human wit. -"And, say," he added, when he had finished his lonely laugh, "I wish -you could see the Keokuk window displays; give you some pointers, young -man." - -The young man was smiling agreeably, so the drummer turned to business. - -"Well," he began optimistically, "trade picking up here as everywhere, -I suppose?" - -The monkey-eyed youth agreed without enthusiasm. - -"Your export trade showing any strength?" - -"I am only a clerk, señor; I have no export trade." - -"Yes, I know; I meant...." It became clear that it was not worth while -to pursue this topic. They had reached the hardware department. The -clerk stood silent while Strawbridge looked around him. The stock was -fuller than the American had expected. - -A sudden idea occurred to Strawbridge: - -"Look here, why don't you get out a big display of this stuff? You -could push out a lot of it." - -"I have no interest here at all, señor," repeated the little man, -concealing a yawn with his fingers. "I'm just a clerk." - -Strawbridge broke into cheerful irritation: - -"Why, damn it, man! if you'll make this business your own, some day it -will be your own. Right here is your chance to use your initiative, -throw some pep into this establishment. Get this thing moving and -you'll be the headliner around here." Strawbridge gave the prospective -headliner a cheerful blow on the shoulder, designed to knock energy -into him. A constructive impulse seized the American: "Say, I'm quite a -lad when it comes to window-dressing. Let's bundle a lot of this stuff -out front and fix up something of a scream by the time the old man -arrives!" Like a benevolent giant Strawbridge beamed down on the little -clerk. Next moment he had caught up an armful of ropes, plow points, -hoes, and door hinges and was lugging them toward the front of the -store. - -The feather of a clerk tried to resist the American whirlwind. - -"But, señor, wait one minute! _Nombre de Dios!_ Señor, for God's sake -stop! What you are doing is mad!" - -Strawbridge was annoyed. - -"Mad the devil! It's the only sensible thing in Canalejos; give your -joint a prosperous, up-to-date look." - -"But, señor, we don't want to look prosperous and up to date." - -"What!" The American was scandalized. "Don't want to look up to date! -What's eating you?" - -"Nothing. We don't want to, because it will raise our taxes. We shall -be forced to pay larger contributions to the governor. _Caramba!_ -Señor, you do not know this country!" - -Strawbridge came to a halt at last. - -"Your taxes will be raised if you look prosperous!" - -"_Seguramente!_" affirmed the clerk, excitedly. "To look prosperous is -a sort of crime in Venezuela. If we seem _too_ well off, perhaps the -dictator will take over our whole business. We dare not risk it. So we -keep everything out of sight. That is best." - -Thomas Strawbridge stood confounded. He doubted his ears. - -"Look here: is that straight goods?" - -"It is true, señor," asseverated the little man, solemnly, "if that is -what you mean." - -"But take your business from you? Take it _from_ you!" - -The clerk evidently thought the American did not understand his -Spanish, for he elucidated: - -"I mean occupy it--receive the money--have the key to the door." - -Strawbridge stood staring at the little fellow, wondering if such a -fantastic situation could really exist. - -"Did you ever know of such a case?" he asked slowly. - -"_Sin embargo._ A friend of mine had a ranch near the President's. It -was a good ranch, with water so well placed that it stayed green each -summer, much longer than the President's own. So suddenly, one day of a -very dry summer, soldiers came to my friend's estancia and carried him -away, and all his peons. It lay vacant a week or two. No one dared go -on it. Then the President ran his fences around it and claimed it as -waste land." - -"That really happened?" - -"_Sí_, señor." - -"What became of the poor devil of a rancher and his peons?" - -"Oh, the peons were put into the army and the man...." The clerk -shrugged, and nodded his head in a certain direction. Strawbridge did -not know to what he referred. - -The American replaced the goods he had chosen for display, and stood in -the wareroom rather stunned. A sort of horripilation ran over him as he -pondered the clerk's story. Under such a government, all business was -in jeopardy. - -"Why, that's awful!" he said aloud. "That'll _ruin_ business! If a -fellow's investments are not protected, then--" he made a hopeless -gesture--"then what in God's name do they hold sacred here?" - -The clerk gave a Latin shrug of despondency. - -"_Cá_, señor, they hold nothing sacred here. Why, even our sisters and -betrothed are violated--" - -Strawbridge lifted a hand and waggled a finger for silence. - -"Yes, I know that old stuff, but business--not to respect a man's -investment--God! but these people are savages!" - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -Thomas Strawbridge left "Sol y Sombra" and started back up the street, -hurrying out of habit but with no objective. His conversation with -the little monkey-eyed clerk had suddenly explained to the drummer -the squalor and filth of Canalejos. It was an intentional filth, -deliberately chosen to escape governmental mulcting. In short, -Venezuelan cities were especially designed to do business in the -worst possible way and with the greatest amount of friction and -inconvenience. Strawbridge was bewildered. He had come from a country -where the whole machinery of government is built for the especial -purpose of expediting business. Now this sudden reversal of motif -seemed to him a mad thing. - -What was the object of it? If men did not organize a government to -promote business, why did any exist? Why did the shop-keepers persist -in running their dirty little shops? Why did the peons go and come, the -fishermen labor up and down the rapids? If business was strangled, what -reason was there for life to go on? - -The drummer's steps had led him back to Plaza Mayor, and by this time -the square was full of people. Most of them were loiterers, sitting -on the park benches gazing listlessly at the palms and ornamental -evergreens, or watching the drip of a fountain too clogged to play. -In the center of the plaza was a statue, and the drummer was somewhat -surprised to observe that it was a full-length figure of General -Fombombo. The statue was of heroic size and held out in its hands a -scroll bearing the words, "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity." - -There was a slow movement, among the idlers, toward the cathedral. -Señoritas came by with their missals, beggars with their cups. Youths -and well-dressed men took a last puff at their eternal cigarettes, -tossed away the stubs, and wandered toward the gloomy temple. - -Strawbridge had never been in a Roman Catholic church in his life. In -fact, since his boyhood he had scarcely been in any sort of church. -Now his desire for silence and a place to think out the riddle he had -found, drew him through the deeply recessed archway of the cathedral. -On one of the columns he saw the holy water, in a shell of a size that -amazed him in a superficial way. He passed on in and immediately forgot -the shell. - -The interior of the church was a semi-darkness punctuated here and -there with groups of candles flickering before the different altars. -To the right hand of the entrance he saw a life-size effigy of the -crucifixion. The head of the figure drooped to one side, and the whole -body was painted the pallor of death. - -With the impersonal and faintly interested eyes of an American tourist -the drummer stood looking at this figure. As he stood, an old man -with an aura of white hair shuffled up before the crucifix, laid down -a bundle on the stone floor, spread a filthy handkerchief, and knelt -stiffly on it. Then he stared fixedly at the effigy, and spread out his -old arms to it, and his lips began moving beneath his tobacco-stained -beard. In his earnestness his old head shook and nodded; he reached -up his scrawny arms farther and farther, as if to pull down from the -figure the good he was seeking. He arose and went; other men took his -place--young men, well-dressed men. They went through their devotions -openly and unashamed. - -But Strawbridge was somehow shamed before them. It seemed to him -a rather improper thing for a man to be seen praying in public. In -North America, to pray in public is a sort of test of audacity, not -to say brazenness. In North America one who prays in public seldom -thinks about God; he thinks about how he looks and what the people -are thinking about his prayer. Now, for these Venezuelans to pray -to God earnestly and unaffectedly in the open made Strawbridge feel -uncomfortable, as if they were appearing in public wearing too few -clothes. - -The women, on the other hand, somehow pleased him. As each señorita -and señora came in with a white handkerchief spread over her black -hair, touched the holy water to her forehead, lips, and breast, and -then knelt to pray, it gave the drummer a queer sense of intimacy and -pleasure. - -Presently reading and responses began in one of the chapels hidden from -the American. The voice of the priest would rise in a muffled swell and -then taper into silence again; a moment later this would be followed -by a hushed babble of women's voices. There was something sad in the -reading and responses. The same words were repeated over and over and -filled the cathedral with a monotonous and melancholy music. - -As Strawbridge stood musing among these frail and unaccustomed -pleasures, his mind moved vaguely about the question which had brought -him there: what could the Venezuelans find in life to take the place of -business? Upon what other cord could any man string the rosary of his -days? As the women came and went, as the responses filled the church -with a many-tongued music, as the odor of incense flattered the gloom, -he pondered his question, but could find no answer. - - -The drummer found a seat near a column of the nave and relaxed, -American fashion, with his legs spread out and his arms lying along the -back of the bench. He stopped thinking toward any point and allowed -his fancies to drift idly. The life of the cathedral slowly developed -itself around him. A woman was on her knees just inside the altar-rail, -scrubbing the tiled floor. Several acolytes in lace robes were gathered -in the transept, perhaps waiting to take part in some later mass. A -priest in his cassock loitered near a confessional, evidently expecting -a penitent. Presently a little girl did come and step into the double -stall of the confessional. The father moved into the other side with -the slowness of a heavy man and with a mechanical movement lifted the -little shutter in the partition. The child placed her face in the -aperture and began to whisper. - -Strawbridge sat and looked with a dreamy emptiness at the priest and -the little girl. He could feel the bench pressing his body and catch -the queer fragrance of incense. Presently the child stepped out of the -confessional and began a round of the stations, kneeling and telling -her beads before each one. A beggar entered the booth and presently -went away. A few moments later, to the drummer's surprise, Coronel -Saturnino came down the aisle and stepped into the confessional. The -officer put his mouth to the orifice and whispered steadily for five or -ten minutes. Strawbridge could see his profile against the darkness of -the booth--a handsome, almost flawless profile, with a slight sardonic -molding about the nose and the corners of the mouth even in this moment -of confession. - -Strawbridge wondered what he was confessing; what kind of sins -Saturnino committed. - -Just then a hand touched the American's outstretched arm. The drummer -looked around and saw Gumersindo standing at the back of his seat. The -negro bowed slightly, with his thick lips smiling. Strawbridge aroused -himself, really glad to see Gumersindo. He got up and joined the -colored man. - -"Lots of folks in church to-day," he whispered. - -Gumersindo nodded. - -"The cavalry expect to go to San Geronimo soon. There is always a -crowding in for confession before such an expedition." - -"Oh! I see." Strawbridge was rather taken aback. He looked across at -the opposite aisle, where two or three soldiers were standing near -another confessional, awaiting their turn. "Do they really believe -anything is going to happen to them?" - -"Why, they know it!" Gumersindo considered Strawbridge, faintly -surprised at such a question; then he evidently decided it was one of -those thoughtless queries such as every one makes at times, for he -passed to another subject: "Would you like to go down into the crypt?" - -Strawbridge agreed, with his mind still hovering about San Geronimo. -The negro led the way, tiptoeing through the big, murmuring cathedral: - -"There's a great painting in that chapel," he said, pointing into one -as they passed, but not stopping to enter it; "you must see it some -day." Strawbridge said he would, and immediately forgot it. - -They passed through the transept and round behind the high altar. In -the passage they found another priest, walking slowly back and forth, -reading some religious book. Gumersindo introduced Strawbridge to -Father Benicio. The priest's face held the worn, ascetic look of a -celibate who endures the ardors of the tropics. - -"Señor Strawbridge is the American gentleman whom I brought back from -Caracas," proceeded the editor; "perhaps you noticed my article about -him in the 'Correo'?" - -"I have not seen to-day's 'Correo,'" said the father, looking, with the -shrewd eyes of his calling, at the American. - -Gumersindo was already drawing from his pocket a damp copy of his -paper. He opened the limp sheet and handed it to the priest, with his -finger at the article. Then he turned away and pretended to inspect -the carving on the reredos, glancing repeatedly toward the readers to -see what effect his article was producing. - -The article itself was typical Spanish-American rhetoric. It referred -to the drummer as a merchant prince, a distinguished manufacturer, a -world-famous exporter, and once it called him the illustrious Vulcan of -the Liberal Arts, a flourish based on the fact that Strawbridge sold -hardware. - -When they had finished reading, the black man turned with his face -beaming in anticipation of praise. - -"Elegantly done, Gumersindo," pæaned the priest. "You have a very rich -style." - -The editor lifted his brows. - -"I never hope to command a style, Father. I always write simply. It is -all I can do." - -Father Benicio patted the black man's arm and smiled the rather -bloodless smile of the repressed. - -"He is a fountain of eloquence and doesn't know it; don't you think so, -Señor Strawbridge?" - -"I was never called so many fine names in all my life," murmured -Strawbridge, in the subdued tones all three men were using. "I must -have a bundle of these papers to send home." - -Gumersindo beamed, and said all Strawbridge needed to do was to give -him the names and he would mail out copies direct. Then he again -proposed going down into the crypt. - -The father agreed. He gathered his cassock about him for convenience -in descending the steps, produced a key, opened a small door in the -back wall of the cathedral, then, apologizing for preceding his guests, -stepped into the opening. - -The American followed the editor and groped down a flight of clammy -steps into a cellar about ten feet deep. The priest presently found a -match and a candle and lighted the cold, unventilated crypt. In the -dim light Father Benicio pointed out some old stone slabs set in the -sides of the crypt, with half-obliterated names carved upon them. Then -he began a recountal of the doings of the first Benedictines who had -come into the Orinoco country in 1573. They had formed a flourishing -colony, but the evil deeds of the Guipuzcoana Company had provoked the -Indians to attack the religious colony, and many of the monks were -massacred. The gravestones marked those early martyrs. - -With a certain fire the priest told the tale. These early fathers were -links in a chain to which he, himself, belonged. Their constancy, their -devotion to duty, their faithfulness unto death were ensamples often in -his heart, which warmed his monastic life. - -Strawbridge did not feel the faintest interest in Father Benicio's -recital. He looked at the stone slabs without any widening of his -vision of the past. Indeed, anything that antedated 1890 was without -interest to him. To the drummer, history had no connection with the -present. If he had analyzed his impressions he would have found that -he believed that all the acts of mankind prior to the nineties formed -history and were completely cut asunder from the press and importance -of to-day. The world in which Mr. Thomas Strawbridge lived and had his -being was absolutely new and up to date. It was like a new steam-heated -apartment house with all the elevators running and the water -connections going, and it was utterly cut off from all the past efforts -and struggles of mankind. History, to him, was not even the blue-prints -from which this house was built, the brick and mortar of which it was -constructed. It was simply a kind of confusion that went on in the -world until men settled down and produced something worth while--that -is to say, the American nation and the New York skyscrapers. - -He yawned under his fingers. - -"I wonder what they did for a living, back there." He touched one of -the stones with his foot. - -Father Benicio glanced around at him. - -"They raised maize, bananas, and a few chickens," he said drily. - -"Ship 'em back to ... Spain?" hazarded the drummer. - -"No, they simply lived on what they cultivated, and what the Indians -gave them." - -The salesman's interest flickered out completely. He glanced at the -gravestones of the unenterprising monks and moved a step toward the -stairs. - -Gumersindo attempted to stir up human interest by pointing out a slab -of stone in the bottom of the crypt. - -"This is not a gravestone; it conceals the entrance of a tunnel. The -early Spanish settlers were great troglodytes, Señor Strawbridge. It is -impossible to find an old castle or an old church without a tunnel or -two leading into it." - -"It was necessary in those unsettled times when a man's house was -likely to be burned with the man in it unless he could slip out," put -in the priest. - -"Where does it lead to?" asked Strawbridge, taking rather more interest -in this purely mechanical arrangement than in the human background -which caused the tunnels to be dug. - -"One branch leads down to the river, another to the _palacio_, and -another to the prison, La Fortuna." - -Strawbridge suppressed another yawn and dismissed the tunnels from his -mind. His thoughts came back to the original problem which had brought -him to the cathedral. He broke out rather abruptly: - -"Say, I suppose both you fellows know about the general and his ... er -... business methods?" - -Editor and priest looked at their guest quite blankly. - -"I mean his method of ... well, ... of confiscating ranches and horses -and stores, provisions, and such like. Now, that's a rotten way to do. -I was wondering whether a good, straightforward talk with him wouldn't -help some." - -By now the two men were staring at Strawbridge as if one of the old -monks had risen out of his tomb. - -"Señor," said the priest, in a queer voice, "would you have the -goodness to explain yourself?" - -"Sure! A chap told me while ago that the general arrested a rancher and -took his ranch. I've been thinking about it all morning." - -"The ranch to which your informant alludes," said Gumersindo, in a cold -voice, "was deserted, and General Fombombo occupied it as waste land." - -The drummer laughed friendlily. - -"Yes, I know about that, but just how the general hunched the man off -his ranch has nothing to do with it. I say any kind of hunching is bad -business." The drummer became very earnest: "Now look here, both you -fellows know the only way to make a country pay is through business. -Now, look at these old monks--" he nodded at the stones. "Fizzled out -because they didn't develop their holdings. I don't know just what they -did do, but it's clear they built this church instead of building a -factory. No returns; see? All overhead and no production. Not that I'm -against praying," he added, with a placating gesture toward the priest. -"I'm for it. I think it peps one up, but, as my old man says, 'Get in -your prayers when there is no customer in sight'; see? Just to come -down to facts: these old boys didn't run on business principles. - -"Now, here's what I'm driving at: The general's idea of grabbing -things balls up the market. Your market has got to be open and it's -got to be protected before you get any real big volume of trade. Any -man in General Fombombo's shoes can get better returns in the way of -legitimate taxes on legitimate business than he can by grabbing what's -in sight and scaring off business men. For, let me tell you, the eagle -on the dollar is just about the timidest bird you ever tried to get to -roost in your hen-house, and that's straight." - -Strawbridge came to an earnest and apparently a questioning pause. The -editor and the priest stood looking at him in the candle-light, quite -as silent as the ancient and unbusinesslike monks beneath their feet. -After a while the editor asked in a strange voice: - -"Why have you ... said these things to us, Señor Strawbridge?" - -"I'm asking your advice." - -"About what?" - -"About talking this over with the general. I believe he is making a -business mistake. He would realize more if he would boost business -instead of knocking it. Perhaps you've read that little poem, - - - "It's better to boost than to knock; - It's better to help than to shove, - We're brothers all, on the road of Life, - And the law of the road is Love." - - -The editor said he had never read it. - -"The thing I'm driving at," proceeded the drummer, "is, would it be -good business for me to spring this on the general? You see, I might -queer a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar order for rifles. Still, -if he could see the real business side of the situation, I might -establish a market for millions of dollars' worth of hardware. What do -you think about it? Would you run the risk?" - -The priest chose to answer: - -"Our President is rather a man of impulse, Señor Strawbridge." - -The big American nodded. - -"I see what you mean." He looked at Gumersindo. - -"The future is always uncertain, Señor Strawbridge," observed the -editor. - -Strawbridge nodded. - -"Uh huh; I see you agree with Father Benicio." He paused, thinking. - -"Well, ... I don't know...." He continued to ponder the problem before -him, and presently quoted, perhaps subconsciously: - - - "Did you speak that word of warning? - Did you act the part of friend? - Do your duty resolutely; - It means dollars in the end." - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -Notwithstanding Strawbridge's apt and well-timed quotation from one of -the best of the American business poets, still, he left the cathedral -on his way to the _presidencia_ in a shilly-shally mood. He went out -at the side entrance, as the most direct route. The glare of sunshine -struck his eyes rather uncomfortably after the gloom of the church. -Just outside the door a dense flowering hedge delimited the plaza from -the garden on the other side. - -The drummer felt for his case and drew out a cigar to settle his -thoughts on his proposed interview with the dictator. He stopped to -scratch a match, when he heard voices talking just inside the garden. -They were low voices, a man's and a woman's, but their passionate -undertones caught the salesman's attention. He could understand little -of what they were saying, but occasionally the woman lost her poise, or -her caution, and he would get a phrase or two; then he could hear the -man mumbling. Once the woman whipped out, "You are mad, you are insane, -Pancho!" The voice of the man seemed to admit this. Later she gasped: -"But you can't do that. He's alive!" and after another interval, she -cried: "What a monster! I despise you as I do him. You are a _bribon_!" - -This speech was stopped abruptly, as if a hand were laid over the -woman's mouth. Came sounds of some guarded physical struggle, then a -slap, a little cry, and the sound of running. The woman's restrained -cry went through Strawbridge with a queer effect. He tried to peer -through the dense hedge, but could make out nothing more than the fact -of movement on the other side. A moment's reflection told him the man -and the woman had separated. - -The incident gripped the salesman in a strange way. He reasoned that -if the two had separated one must have gone back into the church and -the other toward the small postern at the end of the garden. So he -walked briskly in the direction of the latter. Just as he stepped into -the thoroughfare between garden and palace, he saw a woman in a nun's -costume hurry out at the little gate, cross the road, and pass in at -the side entrance of the big state house. With a breath of surprise, -Strawbridge recognized Señora Fombombo. He found it difficult to -attribute such an adventure to this small, quiet woman in her severe -religious garb. And yet she had almost run from the garden gate to -the palace. The American pondered this, but at last decided that the -señora had been coming from her music practice in the cathedral and -some quarreling, fighting couple in the garden had frightened her. The -drummer walked quickly to the little postern and looked into the garden -for the disturbing couple, but, of course, they had had time to escape. - -Strawbridge loitered outside the palace for a few minutes, finishing -his cigar and thinking over the incident. Then he walked up to the -side door. His intention to ask for the señora at once was somewhat -disturbed by the fact that the _griffe_ girl admitted him when he rang -the bell. - -As the American stepped into the entrance, a little leather-colored -soldier in uniform came briskly forward, with his rifle at attention. A -word from the girl established Strawbridge's right to enter. - -"The señora," she said, giving Strawbridge her knowing look, "is in the -music-room." She paused a moment and added, "That's her, now." - -The thing which she called the señora was the chromatic scale, played -with great velocity. - -The maid was so insinuating that Strawbridge thought of denying he had -meant to see the chatelaine at all, but he changed this to something -about believing he would go and hear the music. Instead of producing -the casual effect he had hoped for, this statement lit a brightly -intelligent smile on the _griffe_ girl's copper-colored face. As -Strawbridge walked down the transverse passage to the main corridor, to -turn up toward the music-room, he could feel the eyes of both maid and -guard watching his back. - -The drummer passed two more guards in the main corridor, and presently -paused before the door whence issued the runs and cadenzas. As he was -about to tap, he was again seized with the inexplicable hesitancy which -afflicted him whenever he came near the señora. It was an odd thing. He -knew that she was just inside the dull mahogany panels, but somehow the -door seemed to shut him out completely. He felt he would not get in. He -tapped uncertainly, with a conviction that it would accomplish nothing. -But it did accomplish something: it stopped the music so suddenly that -it startled him. Then he waited in a profound silence. - -Strawbridge imagined that the señora knew that it was he, and that by -the long silence she was showing him that she did not want him in the -music-room. A painful humility came over him. After all, he thought, -she had a right to dislike him. Every time she saw him he was dull -and embarrassed. Queer how she crabbed his style. Now, at home, back -in Keokuk, he was rather popular with the ladies, but here.... The -drummer's good-natured face sagged in a mirthless quirk. Well, ... he -might as well go away. The señora would never know what a jolly friend -she was missing, for he was jolly when one took him right; he simply -was jolly. And he would never know her, either. It was the fault of -neither of them; he saw that. He couldn't help it, she couldn't help -it. A faint sense of pathos floated through the drummer's mind, and he -turned away from the door. - -At that moment it opened and the señora stood before him. Since he -tapped she had just had time to walk across the room. - -The man and the woman looked at each other in utter surprise, but in an -instant this expression vanished from the señora's face and she asked -him if he would like to come in and hear her play. - -The drummer moistened his lips with his tongue and explained vaguely -that he had just been passing and had heard the piano.... - -He was so painfully ill at ease that the girl said she too had been -lonely that forenoon and was wishing some one would come in. She -indicated a chair near a barred window, then, wearing the faint, -unamused smile of a hostess, she went back to the piano and asked what -he would have her play. Mr. Strawbridge said, "Just anything lively." - -The señora pondered and began a mazurka. It was a trifle of thematic -runs. She began rather indifferently, but presently her fingers or her -mood warmed and she did it with dash and brilliancy. - -At first Strawbridge's mental state prevented him from listening -at all, but gradually the richly furnished room, the murals on the -ceiling, the black ebony piano, and the slender nun-like player all -re-formed themselves out of original confusion. Then he became aware of -the music. - -He did not care much for it. The señora did not jazz the piano as -Strawbridge craved that it should be jazzed. It should be explained, -perhaps, that the drummer's contact with music had been confined almost -exclusively to the Keokuk dance-halls. He was, one might say, a musical -bottle baby, who had waxed fat on the electric piano. Now he missed -that roaring double shuffle in the bass and that grotesque yelping -in the treble which he knew and admired and was moved by. He at once -classified the señora as a performer who lacked pep. - -The girl continued to fill the stately room full of dancing fairies; -presently these exquisite little creatures rippled away into the -distance; the last faraway fairy gave a last faraway pirouette, and the -music ceased. The señora turned with a faint smile and waited a moment -for her guest to say he liked the mazurka, but finally was forced to -ask if he did. - -"Well, y-e-s," he agreed dubiously, he liked it; then, with animation, -"Señora, do you play 'Shuffle Along'?" - -She repeated the title after him, evidently trying to translate it into -intelligible Spanish. - -"Who wrote it, señor?" She turned to a big music-rack which apparently -held the music of the world. - -"I don't know," said the drummer, naïvely. "Maybe you've got 'My -Ding-Dong Baby'?" - -Señora Fombombo began going through the huge music-cabinet uncertainly. - -"You don't know the composer of that, either?" - -"No. How about 'Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes'? Or have you -got the 'Haw-Hee Haw-Hee Toddle'?" - -The señora, who was a methodical woman, began alphabetically with -Brahms and looked for the "Haw-Hee Haw-Hee Toddle." Strawbridge got up -from his chair and came to assist. - -"Let me help you," he volunteered. "I know the backs of those pieces -just as well as I do my own face." - -The señora glanced at him. - -"Do you play?" - -"A little," admitted the drummer. "I have been known to ripple my -fingers over the elephants' tusks." Strawbridge laughed pleasantly -at this tiny jest. It was the first time he had been able to speak a -single sentence in a natural way, to the señora. Now this small success -pleased him. - -"Play me the kind of music you like," invited the señora, at once. "I -don't recognize the English titles. Perhaps I have them, after all." - -"Oh, all right." He smiled and sat down on the old-fashioned piano -stool. With a pleased expression on his handsome, good-natured face he -looked at the señora. Then he popped his left fist into his right palm -and his right fist into his left palm, to warm up his finger action. - -"Now, this is the rage," he explained with a faint patronage in his -voice; "this is what runs 'em ragged in New York," and, lifting his -hands high, he boomed into the "Haw-Hee Haw-Hee Toddle." - -Strawbridge did not see the señora's face during the opening bars of -his jazz, and therefore had no means of determining her mood. When, -presently, he looked about at her, she was much as usual; her black -eyes a trifle wider, perhaps, her smile a little less mechanical. - -"I've seen a thousand people on the floor at one time, toddling to -this," he called to her loudly above his demonstration. - -The señora pressed her lips together, her eyes seemed fairly to dance, -and she nodded at this bit of information. - -Strawbridge realized that he was entertaining the señora highly. He -had never seen her look so amused. He had not thought her especially -pretty, before, but just at this moment she gave him the impression of -a ruby with the dust suddenly polished off and held in the sunshine. - -The drummer was very proud of the fact that he could play the piano and -talk at the same time, and he always did this. - -"Say, I like the tone of this machine," he called out in a -complimentary way; "she's hitting on all six cylinders now." - -The señora laughed outright, in little gusts, with attempts at -suppression. It was as if she had not laughed in a long, long time. - -Strawbridge wagged his blond head to the clangor and syncopation of his -own making. - -"Coming down the home stretch!" he yelled, pounding louder and faster. -"Giving her more gas and running up her timer!" He threw his big -shoulders into the uproar. "Going to win the all-comers' sweepstakes! -Go on, you little old taxi! Go to it! Wow! Bang! You're it, kid! The -fifty-thousand-dollar purse is yours!" - -He stopped as suddenly as he had begun, reached into his vest pocket, -fished out a cigar band, and, with a burlesque curtsy, offered it to -the señora as the sweepstakes prize he had just captured. - -The señora produced a handkerchief and wiped her eyes, then drew a long -breath. With her face dimpled and ready to laugh again, she looked at -the drummer. - -"I knew you'd like me if we ever got acquainted," confided Strawbridge; -"nothing like music to get folks together." - -"Yes," acquiesced the señora, smiling, "it is one of the shibboleths of -culture." - -"Why, ... yes, I suppose so," agreed Strawbridge. The phrase -"shibboleths of culture" sobered him somewhat. It was not the sort of -phrase an American girl would have flung into a gay conversation, at -least not without making some sort of face, or saying it in a burlesque -tone to show it was meant to be humorous. It plunked into the drummer's -careless mood like a stone through a window. "By the way," he said, on -this somewhat soberer plane, "let me tell you why I followed you here -into this music-room." - -"Did you follow me?" - -"Yes." - -"Where from?" she asked in a different voice. - -"From the garden." - -The mirth vanished from the señora's face as if some one had turned -down a lamp. It left her pale, delicately engraved, and not very pretty. - -"May I ask why you followed me?" she questioned. - -"Sure!" said Strawbridge with a protective impulse stirring in him. -"I was coming out of the cathedral and I heard some rough-neck couple -raising a row over in the garden. I came on to the _palacio_ and saw -you running out of the gate. I knew they had frightened you with their -yelping, and it made me mad. So when you go to the cathedral again, -just tip me off, please, and I'll go along with you." - -The señora stood leaning over the end of the piano, studying him -intently. - -"That is very kind, and ... and it's a very unexpected kindness, Señor -Strawbridge. I am grateful." - -"Don't thank me at all.... Do the same for any woman. And, say, that -reminds me what I was balled up about." - -"'Balled up'? What do you mean--'balled up'?" - -"Oh!--" with little gesture--"I don't know what to do. It's a matter of -business." - -"Are you bringing me a matter of business?" - -"Sure! Why not? You've got your ideas." - -She continued to look at him curiously. - -"Well, what is it?" - -"It's about your husband. I consider that he runs this country on the -most unbusinesslike basis I ever heard of." - -The Spanish girl opened her eyes still wider at this astonishing turn. - -"Unbusinesslike?" - -"Sure, it's like this," and Strawbridge proceeded to explain what he -knew of the dictator's methods; who had told him, and that he thought -the general was losing money. - -During the recital he was surprised to see the señora's pale face grow -paler still. Finally she gasped: - -"And does he take property, too?" - -"Why, good God!" cried the drummer, in amazement, "didn't you know -that?" - -After a long pause the Spanish girl said almost inaudibly, "No, I -didn't know ... that." - -"Huh!" ejaculated Strawbridge, growing very much embarrassed. "I'm -sorry I mentioned it, I ... I...." He looked at her, moistening his -lips, and broke out with a desperate note of remorse, "Well, I swear I -hate mentioning that!" - -The señora shrugged wearily. - -"Oh, ... _that_ doesn't matter." - -She kept accenting her "thats" as if other things preyed more deeply on -her thoughts. - -At this moment a big French motor-car murmured past the window of the -music-room. It happened that both the drummer and the señora saw it, -were looking straight at it. The car contained General Fombombo, and in -the seat beside him Strawbridge recognized the peon girl Madruja, the -little bride whom the dictator continued to detain in the palace until -he could come to some judicial decision as to what to do with her. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -The passing of General Fombombo with the peon girl, Madruja, will call -to the philosophical mind one of the sharpest distinctions between -North American chastity and Venezuelan laxity. In America, no man, not -even the most degraded specimen of our race, would think of parading -his mistress before his wife. Such a thing is not done in America. -Where the Latin flaunts his dalliances openly, the puritanical North -American invariably makes an effort to conceal his shortcomings and to -present to the world an innocuous and inoffensive front. - -Spanish-American moralists are prone to ascribe this flowering of the -great Anglo-Saxon cult of concealment to hypocrisy. Nothing could -be shorter of the truth. Hypocrisy is an effort to deceive, but the -best English and American types deceive no one. Their intention is -not to deceive but to keep life clean, pure, and enjoyable for their -fellow-men. For here is the peculiar thing about vice: A man's own -shortcomings never appear censure-worthy, whereas the sins of other men -are hideous. To be seen openly sinning is to make of oneself a public -nuisance. - -The genius of the Anglo-Saxon realizes this, and he avoids paining -and distressing others by performing his dalliances as privately as -possible. This secrecy is each man's private contribution to the -comfort and reassurance of his fellow-citizens. Taking us all in all, -perhaps America's greatest gift to the world is the peccadillo of low -visibility. - -As an instance of the deplorable effect of being seen, observe how -the passing of General Fombombo and Madruja completely destroyed Mr. -Thomas Strawbridge's pleasure in the society of Señora Fombombo. Yet -all the time he had known from Lubito the actual state of the case. -It had seemed humorous when Lubito told the story, but the sight of -the dictator and the peon girl passing in the car was not humorous at -all. On the contrary, it was oppressive and painful. It ended abruptly -his tête-à-tête with the señora. Indeed, it hung about him for days, -popping up every little while with disagreeable iteration. - -The incident upset Strawbridge's own code. It caused him to doubt -the rightness of any husband deceiving any wife. He had never before -thought even of questioning such a situation. He had known many -drummers, married men, who when they got to a city would take a -little flyer. It had seemed perfectly all right, a sort of joke. Now, -abruptly, it all seemed wrong, and he was vaguely angry and ill at ease. - -And the personal end of the affair puzzled him. He could not understand -how any sane man would run away from so delightful a girl as Dolores -Fombombo, to the over-accented and uncultivated charms of a Madruja. - -He tried to put himself in the general's place, to fancy himself -the husband of Dolores. Would he betray her? Would he deceive the -confidence of so dainty a creature? Indeed no! The very thought filled -him with a most unusual and tremulous tenderness. Why, before he would -break faith with Dolores ... before he would do that.... He got out -a cigar, bit off the nib with a snap, and lighted it in vague anger. -He continued pacing up and down his room from one barred window to -another, looking out at the river, at the gloomy prison called "La -Fortuna," at the back of the cathedral. - -Then his thoughts veered away from the general's infidelity, and he -began thinking about a strange thing which had happened to him a day -or two before, when he called on the proprietor of "Sol y Sombra." He -decided he would mention it to Dolores; perhaps she could explain it. - -The decision to see Dolores and tell her this thing comforted -Strawbridge somewhat. He drew an eased breath, went over to the window, -reached through the bars, and tapped off the ash of his cigar, then -walked out into the corridor, turned toward the rear of the palace, and -passed out through a back entrance onto a sort of piazza--a roofless -paved space about forty feet wide, which extended from the building -quite to the edge of the take-off that led down a long, steep slope to -the yellow river. - -On the western end of this piazza projected the kitchen, and it -was littered on that side with unsightly bags of charcoal, chicken -feathers, bundles of kindling, bones, and other rejectæ from the -cooking-department of the palace. This litter increased or decreased -according to the spasmodic energy of the _griffe_ girl, the wrinkled -old hag, and three or four other familiars of the kitchen. When these -caretakers were induced to purge their premises, they simply shoved the -refuse over the edge of the piazza and allowed it to distribute itself -as it would down the long slope. - -Strawbridge dragged out a chair on the east side of the piazza and sat -down to his cigar and the sunset. This had grown to be his custom every -late afternoon. Until the señora joined him he was more attentive to -his cigar than to the sunset. But when she came, her arrival, oddly -enough, seemed to open his eyes to the fact that sunsets in the Orinoco -Valley are famous for their brilliant coloring and dramatic effects. - -He had finished perhaps a third of his cigar when he heard a servant -come dragging the señora's chair behind her. This ended a faint -suspense in Strawbridge. He looked around, and the two of them smiled -at each other the satisfied smiles of friends who had been anticipating -just this pleasure of watching the sunset together. - -For the first evening or two they had talked dutifully all the time. -Strawbridge had exerted himself to amuse the señora, but of late they -had found long silences mutually pleasant. So now, as the señora came -up, he simply remarked that he thought they were going to have a nice -sunset. - -The drummer himself was immeasurably content. He sat watching the -change and play of that huge and airy mansionry of vapors. Somehow it -reduced him and Dolores to two human midges seated behind a little -palace, on a tiny piazza, in microscopic wicker chairs. It sent a -shudder of pleasure through him: they were so very, very small, and so -very, very comforting each to the other. - -As they sat staring at the vast chromatic architecture, a faint breeze -brought him the malodor of the kitchen at the other end of the piazza -and stirred him out of his reverie. He looked around. - -"By the way, señora, a queer thing happened to me the other morning. -I've been meaning to tell you about it, but I never can think to when -I'm with you." - -"Yes?" - -"About that clerk at 'Sol y Sombra.' That little chap who put me wise -to business conditions in this country. You remember what a row he -raised because I wanted to make a hardware display." - -"Yes, that's Josefa." - -"Well, he's gone." - -The señora moved lazily in the gloom, to face her companion. - -"You wanted to tell me Josefa was gone?" He could tell by her voice -that she was smiling. - -"Not so much that as the way I heard it. Day or two ago I called on -the proprietor. He was as polite as pie, but he didn't warm up to my -selling talk. Finally I offered him my leader--some shovels at a price -that'd make him think he stole 'em. I was pushing the goods pretty hard -when finally he looked at me with a sort of whitish face and says, -'Señor Strawbridge, I am not in the market for your goods at any price.' - -"'That lets me down,' I says, 'if low prices and high quality don't -interest you. That's all I got--the lowest prices and the highest -quality." - -"I saw he was going to bow me out regardless, so I thought I would be -polite up to the limit and inquire after the health of the little clerk -I had met in the store several mornings before that. - -"When I asked after him, the proprietor jumped from his chair. 'Señor!' -he cried, 'you shall not mock at my distress! You may have the leading -hand now, but as sure as there is a God in heaven, He will punish you!' -He shook a finger at me. 'He will punish you! He will punish you!' - -"I stared at him. I never came so near hitting a man in all my life, -but I remembered something my old man told me when I first went to work -with him. 'Strawbridge,' he'd say, 'keep your temper; nobody else wants -it.' So I thought to myself, 'Here's where I keep her,' and I said, -'Señor, you've got the advantage of me. If I've done you or yours any -harm, I'm sorry, but how have I done it?' - -"He looked at me as keen as all you black-eyed folks can look. 'Don't -you know where Josefa is?' he asked. - -"'Certainly I don't, or I wouldn't have asked where he was.' - -"'Well--he's not here any longer.' - -"'Did you discharge him?' I asked. - -"The merchant looked at me, and I be damned if there wasn't tears in -his eyes. 'Señor Strawbridge,' he said, 'Josefa is gone. He is simply -gone. He was a good boy; that is all I can say to you about it.'" - -Here Strawbridge's narration was interrupted by a little sound from the -girl in the darkness. He stopped short. - -"Why, what's the matter, señora?" he asked in surprise. - -"Oh, nothing ... nothing...." Her voice quavered. "Poor Josefa!" - -The salesman tried to peer into her face. - -"What are you saying, 'Poor Josefa,' about? I thought you didn't know -him particularly well." - -"I didn't. Oh, Señor Strawbridge, everything is so horrible here!... so -terrible!... Oh.... Oh ..." and suddenly the señora began to weep, a -pathetic little figure in her nun's costume. - -Something clutched the drummer's diaphragm. He leaned toward her. - -"Señora!" he remonstrated. "What's the matter? Have I done anything?" - -One arm was crumpled about her face, she stretched the other toward him. - -"Oh, no, no! you've done nothing to me. I ... I thought I was getting -used to it. I used to cry all the time when I first came here. I -thought I was growing hard, but I suppose I'm not." - -The drummer was tingling at the appeal in her attitude and of her hand -which had caught two of his fingers. A faint pulse began murmuring in -his ears. He wanted to pick the whole of her daintiness up in his arms -and comfort her. - -"For God's sake, what do you mean?" he begged. - -The girl collected herself. - -"I will tell you," she said in a low tone. "There, sit closer, please, -so I can talk in a low tone. Don't make any noise, señor." - -Strawbridge adjusted his chair silently and sat staring at the -slight figure, in mute speculation. His head was full of the wildest -conjectures: Josefa was her brother ... her lover. Josefa had followed -her over from Spain.... - -"You say you never heard of Josefa before you came here?" he asked -aloud. - -"No, I'd never heard of him." - -"Then why in the world--" - -She made a weary gesture. - -"Oh, Señor Strawbridge, because life is all terrifying here; every part -has the same horrible quality!" - -"But you don't know where Josefa is?" - -"_Sí, sí,_ señor; indeed I do!" - -"Then where is he?" asked Strawbridge, more bewildered than ever. - -The girl pointed silently through the gloom. - -"Yonder," she whispered. - -Strawbridge turned, half expecting to see the little monkey-eyed clerk -behind him. But the piazza was deserted, and he saw nothing more than -the low, heavy walls of the fort against the last umber light in the -east. - -"What do you mean?" he asked. - -"I mean ... the prison, señor." - -A cold trickle went over the drummer. - -"You don't mean that little clerk's in prison?" - -"_Sí_, señor." - -The drummer stared at her. - -"For God's sake, why? What did he do?" - -"Nothing señor, except...." - -"Except what?" - -"Except talk to you, señor." - -She whispered this last in a rush which ended in a gasp, and this told -Strawbridge she was weeping again. - -The big drummer miserably watched her distress. - -"Talked to me!" - -"Because he told you about President Fombombo's methods." - -With a queer sensation the American turned to look at the prison again. - -"O-o-oh ... I see. Well, I'll be ... damned!" he uttered in slow -stupefaction. - -"And that is nothing ... nothing!" accented the girl passionately. -"There are scores, _scores_ in there--the maimed, the tortured, the -sick, the dying. They have filthy crusts to eat. Never a physician -or a priest. When they die, the guards throw them into the river, to -the crocodiles. Oh, Señor Strawbridge, somehow God will punish this -terrible place! Listen!" she whispered. "At night, Father Benicio -sleeps in the cathedral, where he overlooks the river and the prison. -When any noise awakens him and he sees the guards throwing something -into the water, the priests go to the altar and say the mass for -departing souls." - -The American shook his head as he stared at the prison. - -"Merciful God!" he said in a whisper. - -Presently she began telling Strawbridge her sensations when she came -from Spain as General Fombombo's bride and found herself amid such a -reign of terror. - -"It was like stepping into hell, Señor Strawbridge. There never was a -woman so miserable as I. I was afraid to confess such awful things, -even to Father Benicio, but at last I did. He was the only human soul -to whom I could turn. Good, kind Father Benicio! He saved me from going -mad." - -As she finished her story the American's optimism returned. "Maybe -I can do something about this," he said thoughtfully. "I never have -talked to General Fombombo about his business policy, but I really must -now. I'll start in about Josefa. I'll show the general how the boy -meant no harm. I'll get him taken out; then I'll show the general how -his policy as a whole is bad for business--" - -"Oh, no, no, no!" interrupted the señora in alarm. "It won't help at -all." - -"Not if I show him it's bad business?" - -"Señor, the general doesn't care that about business!" She snapped her -fingers. - -Thomas Strawbridge smiled in the darkness. - -"That's where you don't know men, señora," he assured her from his -wider knowledge. "Every man cares about business. There is no man on -earth that isn't wrapped up in some sort of business. Well, I think -I'll step inside and see what I can do." He patted her hand where it -lay on the arm of her chair. There was something about its softness and -littleness that sent a strange, sweet sensation up Strawbridge's arm -and suffused his body. The next moment he moved into the palace, with -his usual quick, rangy strides. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -When Strawbridge entered the library of the palace he found only -Coronel Saturnino, who was working at his desk. Near the entrance stood -one of the palace guards. The silence was almost complete; Strawbridge -could hear the faint scratch of the colonel's pen as he toiled at his -endless preparations to seize San Geronimo. - -The drummer was on the verge of calling out to ask the whereabouts of -General Fombombo, when it occurred to him that this Coronel Saturnino -was at that moment devising plans upon which, quite possibly, his own -safety depended. - -It was rather an extraordinary thought for the salesman. There was -something dramatic about it--a man working silently in the great, still -library, determining whether Strawbridge should live or die. And there -stood Strawbridge, near the door, unable to assist in the slightest -degree in this determination of his fate. It was a queer, almost a -ghostly feeling. Somehow it clothed Coronel Saturnino with a kind of -awesome superiority. A sort of premonition of the raid on San Geronimo -came to the drummer, a charging of horsemen, sword thrusts, the flash -of small arms.... His visualization was based largely upon a cheap -chromo called "The Fall of the Alamo" which had hung in the parlor of -his home in Keokuk. In this picture the artist had been very liberal -with blood and dead men. Strawbridge decided not to call to Coronel -Saturnino, but to allow him to work undisturbed. - -The drummer nodded the guard to him. The little brown man glanced -around at the colonel, then moved silently toward the American, -evidently with scruples. When he was close enough, Strawbridge -whispered: - -"Where is the general?" - -The man was amazed at such a question. - -"Señor, I am a guard, not a spy." - -The salesman was faintly amused. - -"Aw, come now! What's the big idea? You know me. You see me every day -around this joint. So spit it out, man: where did the general go?" - -The little fellow shrugged, pulled down the corners of his mouth, and -moved silently back to his post. - -This irritated the American. He told the guard, under his breath, to go -to hell, and that faint explosion sufficed to wipe the incident from -his mind. He turned out into the corridor again and walked toward the -front of the building, in an aimless search for the dictator, while his -thoughts returned to the señora and the misfortunes of little Josefa. - -He began composing a speech against the time he found the general, a -kind of sales talk designed to set Josefa free. He would say the little -clerk had not volunteered the information about General Fombombo's -business methods. That had been wrung from him by the fact that he, -Strawbridge, was about to arrange a hardware display. From this point -of departure the drummer hoped to proceed into a constructive criticism -of the general's whole dictatorial policy. It might do a lot of good, -probably would. He was making the general's problems his problems, and -now he rather thought he had solved one. He could fancy the general -looking him straight in the eye and saying, "Strawbridge--by God!--I -believe you've hit the nail on the head!" As a matter of fact, the -drummer knew the general never used profanity, but somehow he placed -this blasphemy in the general's mouth because it sounded strong and -admiring, as one frank, manly American curses at another when his -admiration reaches a certain low boiling-point. - -The drummer walked slowly down the corridor, listening at each door as -he passed, but he reached the entrance of the palace without hearing -the general's voice. - -Strawbridge came to a halt near the guard at the entrance, and stood -wondering what he should do. The injustice of Josefa's imprisonment -spurred him to do something. He stood looking into the plaza below him, -which was illy lighted. A rather large audience was collecting, for -it was concert night. The semi-weekly concert of the firemen's band -would begin in about half an hour. A thought that he might find General -Fombombo in the audience sent the drummer down the long flight of -ornamental stairs into the plaza. - -In the park was a typical Wednesday-evening crowd such as were -gathering in all the larger towns in South America. Near the band -stand was a high stack of folding chairs, and peon boys hurried among -the audience, renting these chairs at two cents each for the evening. -Dark-eyed señoritas in mantillas and fashionable short skirts chose -seats under the electric lights, where they could cross their legs -and best display their well-turned calves and tiny Spanish feet. The -greater part of the crowd preferred to walk. They moved in a procession -around the plaza, the men clockwise, the women anticlockwise, so the -men were continually passing a line of women, and vice versa. There -was an endless tipping of hats, tossing of flowers, and brief exchange -of phrases. Here and there an engaged couple strolled about the square -together. To be seen thus was equivalent to an announcement. - -The drummer was walking among this crowd, glancing about for the -President, when a hand touched his shoulder. He looked around and -saw Lubito the bull-fighter with a peon companion. This peon was a -youth who wore alpargatas, but the rest of his costume had the cheap -smartness of the poorer class of Venezuelans who trig themselves out -for the Wednesday-night concerts. In contrast to his finery, there was -something severe, almost tragic in the youth's pale-olive face. - -"This is Esteban, señor," introduced the torero, reaching back and -settling his wad of hair. "You remember him--Madruja's lover, who is -half married to her. That makes him the demi-husband of a demi-monde." - -Strawbridge extended his hand, rather amused at the oddity of the -introduction. - -"_Caramba!_" ejaculated Lubito. "Do you smile at a man in distress, -señor?" - -The drummer straightened his face. - -"Oh, no, not at all! I am glad to meet Señor Esteban. By the way, I was -just out hunting General Fom--" - -Esteban lifted a quick hand. - -"Señor," he cautioned in an undertone, "it is not wise to speak that -name in a public place, such as this." - -Strawbridge glanced around, rather surprised. - -"I was saying no harm. Besides, he's a friend of mine. In fact, I was -looking for him, to ask a little favor." - -"Yes?" interrogated Lubito. - -"It's about a youngster named Josefa. The general put him in prison--" - -"_Diablo_, señor!" gasped Esteban. "I beg of you not to speak of these -things in the plaza!" - -The drummer was impressed with the peon's alarm. His feeling was -reinforced by the knowledge that Josefa was in prison on account of -just such a casual conversation as this. So he said: - -"Well, now you know what I had to tell you, and who I am hunting." - -The bull-fighter nodded gravely. - -"I see you are going to do a certain friend of yours a little favor." - -"Yes, get him out of trouble." - -The torero turned to his companion. - -"You see, Esteban, he is _un hombre muy simpatico_ but very -indiscreet. Do you know what he did to me in Caracas? _Caramba!_ I was -standing on the street corner watching some domino-players. Every one -knows that the domino-players are the police's own stool-pigeons. _Cá!_ -I was standing there watching them when this _hombre_ comes along and -roars in my ears, 'Where is the _casa_ where the great revolutionist, -General Adriano Fombombo lives!' _Madre de Jesu!_ I almost fainted. I -could see myself rotting in La Rotunda!" - -"He has a lion's heart," declared Esteban. - -"And a donkey's brain," retorted the bull-fighter. - -Strawbridge had heard enough of this. - -"With your permission, señors, I will continue my search." - -"But don't you want to watch the crowd, señor?" suggested Lubito. -"There, look at that little officer with the swagger-stick; perhaps you -know him?" - -The drummer saw a sharp-featured young officer with dark circles of -dissipation under his eyes. - -"No, I don't know him." - -"You don't know the Teniente Rosales?" - -"No, I never heard of him." - -Lubito gave the drummer a side glance. - -"It is not a bad idea to say you don't know him, at any rate." - -"Why, I don't!" repeated the drummer, emphatically, looking around at -the bull-fighter in surprise. - -Esteban interrupted: - -"You see, Lubito, he is far more discreet than you gave him credit for. -Perhaps he recognized _you_ on the street corner of Caracas." - -The bull-fighter looked at Esteban and then at Strawbridge. - -"_Caramba!_ I never thought of that!" - -This conversation was getting too cryptic for Strawbridge. - -"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, "so, once more with -your permission, I'll go." He turned to leave his companions. - -Lubito interrupted: - -"Wait; we're going in your direction ourselves. Come on, Esteban, we -might as well have pleasant company." - -"Oh, ... all right," agreed the drummer, rather surprised at this. - -The three men drew away from the crowd, and for some distance walked -in silence. They directed their course along the shadowy parts of the -plaza and then to the adjoining streets. At last Lubito said with a -casual air: - -"We hear you have joined the cavalry, señor." - -"For the expedition against San Geronimo," qualified the drummer. - -"You are a military man, no doubt?" - -"No, not at all." - -The bull-fighter seemed surprised. - -"Are you going as a simple private?" - -"Well, y-es," hesitated Strawbridge, with the complete reason of his -going floating unsaid in his mind. - -"No doubt you wish to make friends with the common people--the peons, -the _griffes_, the mestizos, who make up this God-forsaken country, -señor, and who are not of the pure Castilian blood as Esteban and I." - -Strawbridge could not see whither this conversation was leading. He -said, very honestly: - -"Naturally; I want to make friends with every one." - -"We thought so," nodded the torero; "we observed how you speak to all -persons, great and small, how you stop on the street to give moral -advice even to the lottery-ticket venders, how you sympathize with the -unfortunate Josefa, and say conditions should be changed. Yes, you -certainly are very careful to make friends with every one." - -Strawbridge was surprised that the bull-fighter had so complete a -digest of his most trivial acts. Also, here and there in Lubito's tones -flickered an insinuation of some hidden meaning which annoyed the -drummer. - -"Look here," he said frankly. "What are you driving at? You know I rode -from Caracas with you. You know I'm selling firearms to the general, -and hardware to anybody else." - -"_Sí_, señor," agreed Lubito, politely, "but why should you seek to -make friends with this fellow and that fellow--the lowest and the -meanest?" - -The drummer was a little irritated. - -"I want to make friends with everybody; in the long run it will be of -advantage to my house." - -"Your house?" from Esteban. - -"I mean the commercial firm I work for." - -The two peons nodded thoughtfully. Esteban observed: - -"A lottery-ticket vender, who cannot afford clothes for his nakedness, -will hardly buy guns and hardware...." - -The salesman was growing weary of these innuendoes. - -"Look here," he said in the perfectly friendly voice with a -disagreeable content that is sometimes used by Americans in these -circumstances, "I don't give a damn what you fellows think. I can't -explain every look and word by my business. I'm friendly because I ... -I'm just naturally friendly. I call a man who isn't friendly a damn -fool. Here I am walking with you two guys. I don't expect to sell _you_ -guns and hardware, either, but I'm walking with you, just the same." - -He looked at both of them after this little speech. Both were obviously -and entirely unconvinced. They shrugged slightly. - -"_Pues, pues! Bien! Cá! Seguramente!_" They walked slowly on, evidently -in deep thought. Presently Lubito broke the silence: - -"Señor, you will pardon me. We knew all the time you were telling us -the precise truth. What I said was by way of jest. Esteban, there, -misunderstood, because he is a little dull. There is just one other -point Esteban does not understand, and I confess it puzzled me a bit, -too. But I will not ask it if you are angry, señor. Perhaps, after all, -we would better talk of other things. I think you have lost patience -with your two poor stupid friends." - -"No," denied the drummer, rather ashamed of his little outbreak, "I -haven't lost patience, but you don't seem to believe what I tell you." - -"Oh, _sí_, señor! yes we do!" chorused the two, earnestly. "_Caramba!_ -We would not think of doubting a _caballero's_ word!" - -"Well, then, what's your question?" - -"Exactly this: you are not a military man?" - -"No." - -"You are going to fight at San Geronimo as a trooper?" - -"Yes." - -"You came here to sell hardware?" - -"Yes." - -"Then ... I am very stupid ... but why do you fight?" - -"Can you sell hardware to dead men on a battle-field?" added Esteban. - -Strawbridge looked at his questioners, with a misgiving that he would -never make them understand the true situation. They would never -realize the necessity of learning the complete details of a customer's -business. He began talking very carefully, as if he were explaining a -lesson to a child: - -"I am joining the raid on San Geronimo to get a working idea of my -patron's business conditions." - -Lubito nodded. - -"Before I sell a market, I like to know it thoroughly." - -"_Precisamente._" - -"Before I sell a man a tool, I want practical, first-hand knowledge of -just how he is going to use it, what he needs, why he needs it. That's -the American method." Launched on his favorite theme, Strawbridge spoke -with a certain fervor. - -"But why is that, señor?" puzzled Esteban. "If you sell a man anything, -it is his. He has it. You have sold it." - -"Sh! let him explain!" - -"No, that's a good question," declared Strawbridge, with enthusiasm. "I -sell you something. Why am I concerned about how you use it? The use -of that article is your problem. But perhaps with my expert knowledge -I can show you how to use it better, or perhaps I can devise a way to -make you a better tool. Then you will be a satisfied customer, and a -satisfied customer is the best advertisement in the world." Strawbridge -shook his fist. "When you buy anything from me, gentlemen, you are not -buying just my goods, you are buying human service!" He popped his fist -into his palm. "You are buying the best in me to coöperate with the -best in you, and between us we'll make this world a better world to -live in." He nodded sharply. "See?" - -The drummer paused. The bull-fighter and the peon looked at each other. -After several seconds had passed, Esteban said: - -"For example, señor, if I wanted to buy a dirk to cut Lubito's throat, -you would come and cut it first to see what kind of knife I should use?" - -Strawbridge was a little cooled. - -"Well, ... that is just about the size of my San Geronimo trip; isn't -it? You seem to have hit the nail on the head." - -Esteban became thoughtful. - -"So you are going to aid--" his voice sank--"General Fombombo." - -"Yes, sure I am." - -"And it makes no difference whether _he_ is right or wrong. You will -help him steal my Madruja, steal Señor Fando's horse, steal Señor -Rosario's ranch, put Josefa in irons, do this, that, and the other, -break our bodies, destroy our souls, cut us down, and grind us like -corn in his mill. It makes no difference to you; you are going to help -him in all that!" - -Strawbridge was shocked at this sudden attack on the moral end of his -business, by the peon who had lost his sweetheart. He became more -carefully logical and less rhetorical. In fact, he was exploring new -ground, a territory over which his old man had not coached him, so he -was not so sure of himself. - -"It's like this: I'm doing my part of this thing in a business way. If -everybody would work in a business way, there wouldn't be any of this -rough stuff you're talking about, because that's bad business. In fact, -I was just on my way around to see the general. I'm going to get Josefa -out of prison, and I think I can stop all this other sort of thing. I -believe I can put this whole country on a business basis." - -"But you, yourself, are going to San Geronimo to help kill men, just to -show him how to work his guns!" - -Here Lubito interrupted in a disgusted tone: - -"Esteban, you fool, just because you've lost your Madruja, your head -is hot and you see nothing in the light of reason. This tale Señor -Strawbridge told us is the tale he tells the general, and makes _him_ -believe it. By this means he goes to San Geronimo with the cavalry. -_Caramba!_ I am amazed that even a stupid peon should not see so simple -a thing!" - -Esteban stared, and grinned faintly. - -"_Cá!_ He told it so cleverly that even I believed it, too!" - -Strawbridge looked at his companions. - -"What'n hell are you talking about?" he demanded. - -Lubito held up a finger. - -"Everything is well, señor." He nodded confidentially. "You are a much -deeper man that I thought. Everything is as you would wish it. In only -one way would I caution you." - -"Damned if I know where you are heading in, but what do you want to -caution me about?" - -"It is this, señor--you will take it as a friend; we are brothers -now--it is this: When our country became so bad under General Dimancho -that it could go no farther, we appealed to General Miedo for aid, and -he promised us if he won power we should have justice, that every peon -should possess his wife and daughters and property in peace, señor, -precisely as you say." - -In the greatest astonishment Strawbridge stared at the bull-fighter. - -"What's that got to do with me?" - -"Nothing, nothing at all, señor, but General Miedo forgot his pledges -when he reached power. He forgot his pledges as men are prone to do, -and our country became even worse than when it was under General -Dimancho. So we went to General--" Lubito dropped to a whisper--"to -General Fombombo, who had a ranch down on the Orinoco near Ciudad -Bolívar. And _he_ promised our deputation if we raised him to the -highest seat our wives and daughters and property should be our own. -Señor Strawbridge, the monument to General Fombombo that stands back -there in the plaza marks the spot where he stood General Miedo up -before his soldiers and shot him through the heart." - -A goose-flesh feeling brushed over the drummer. - -"Lubito," he said, "what in hell has this got to do with me?" - -"Nothing, señor, nothing at all. I merely mention this by way of -information. You want information. All Americans want information. They -want that the most badly of all the things they need. Also, there is a -saying in Rio Negro, señor, that a gray-eyed man shall free us. And we -have tried our own people so many times, señor, and so sorrowfully, -that we are weary of trying Venezuelans, and would fain try a man of -another nation." - -Strawbridge was dumbfounded. He could do nothing but stand and stare at -his companions. At last he made an effort and said in a queer voice: - -"Men, you've got me wrong; you've got me completely wrong." - -"_Seguramente!_ You are a salesman of hardware, who goes to war to show -the dictator what knife cuts a throat best." Lubito laughed briefly. -"We do not know what throat you mean to cut first, señor--you are a -deep man--but here we part for the night. This building on your left -is the west wing of the _palacio_. In those lighted windows you will -find the general with Madruja. You said you wished to find him. There -he is. I do not know what you wish to say or do to the general. I will -not ask. You say, yourself, that you are a _maestro_ in the cutting of -throats. No one knows when or where you may see fit to give a lesson." -Lubito laughed. "Remember, Lubito and Esteban are your friends. _Adio' -hasta mañana._" - -"_Adios_," returned Strawbridge. - -His two companions turned and moved away toward the plaza. In the -distance the firemen's band had struck up a sensuous Spanish waltz. -The drummer stood meditating on the amazing thing Lubito had told him. -Such a usurpation was as remote from Strawbridge's temperament as the -stars, but nevertheless he was profoundly moved. For some reason the -Señora Fombombo came into his mind. He saw her as clearly as if she -stood before him in bright day. He put her vision from him, and stared -resolutely at the brightly lighted windows across the dark street. -In an effort to bring his mind back to his own affairs, he drew out -his silver cigar-case and lighted up. He tipped up his face in order -that his eyes might escape the smoke. Out of the heavens a thousand -brilliant stars offered him counsel. Presently Lubito and Lubito's -insurgency faded from his mind. He finally sifted down the exact -problem which he had to meet. Should he go over and ask for Josefa's -release and extend to the general his views on the proper business -methods to be used in Rio Negro? - -Should he go now? That was his problem. An American caught in the -presence of his mistress would probably be in a dour mood. On the other -hand, the thought of the little monkey-eyed Josefa, lingering out -another night in the filthy dungeons of La Fortuna, filled Strawbridge -with pity and remorse. The youth was entirely innocent, and he, -Strawbridge, had put him in his cell. On the other hand, a badly timed -interview could very well be of no service to Josefa, and might lose -the drummer a two-hundred-and-fifty thousand-dollar order for rifles. - -He wondered what his old man would advise him to do in this emergency. -The drummer looked up at the stars and sought advice just as earnestly -as any religious martyr would have prayed to these same heavens. If he -had known what his old man would suggest, he would have done it. - -The coal on Strawbridge's cigar glowed and faded at long intervals, and -presently there struggled up out of the drummer's subconscious a memory -of a little framed motto which his employer had hung over his desk. It -read: - - - The greatest assets of any firm are the honor and courage of its - salesmen; next comes the quality of its goods. - - -Religious martyrs, in their extremity, have been known to receive -answers from the heavens they interrogated. Thomas Strawbridge, also, -had received his. He drew a deep puff of smoke, thumped away his cigar, -which made a dull spiral of fire as it fell through the darkness; then -he started briskly across the street. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -One of the palace guards delayed Strawbridge for a few moments at the -entrance of the west wing of the palace, to ask his master if the -American might be admitted. A little later the soldier returned and -opened a door into a brightly lighted sitting-room which evidently -corresponded to the music-room in the east wing. Some rugs made of -Indian blankets, chairs, and a couch of colored native wickerwork -gave a look of richness and rather intemperate color to the room. -The high light of this ensemble, that which held it all together and -subordinated it, was the peon girl Madruja. Strawbridge obtained rather -a bewildered impression of her. In fact, no man ever gets the details -of an unusually comely woman at first glance. - -General Fombombo, rising from the wicker couch where he had been -sitting beside the girl, begged permission to leave her for a moment, -to which Madruja assented with a mute gesture. The President came -forward to Strawbridge, with both hands outstretched, radiating welcome. - -"_Mi caro amigo_," he greeted, "I am charmed to have you see my little -ménage. What do you think of my color scheme?" He stood gripping the -drummer's hand and looking about at the room with that detachment which -the arrival of a third person always gives an artist toward his work. -The general picked out a doubtful point: "What do you think of the -clasp that holds down the drapery between her breasts?" - -Strawbridge barely managed to see the clasp against the glow of the -girl. He said he thought it was a very nice clasp. - -"No, I mean would you prefer garnet or ruby just there? I tried garnet -at first, but I found that her eyes would endure the fire of a ruby. -Ah, Señor Strawbridge, you are doubtless aware that not one woman in -fifty can wear a ruby in her bosom." - -Strawbridge cleared his throat and said he knew rubies were very -expensive. - -This introduced a little gap in the conversation. The dictator changed -his manner from the enthusiasm of an artist to the courtesy of a host: - -"I believe you have not as yet had the pleasure of meeting Señorita -Rosamel." Here he led Strawbridge nearer Madruja. "Señorita, may I -present my dear friend Señor Tomas Strawbridge of Nueva York?" - -The girl remained seated and simply extended a hand. Whether she did -this out of timidity, or out of pride in her new silks and jewels, the -drummer could not guess. The hand she placed in his was small and not -badly shaped, but hard and rough from the work of a peon woman. She -said nothing at all, but sat looking at Strawbridge out of black eyes -which could endure the fire of a ruby. They were the shining, surfacy -eyes one sees in wild animals and in entirely illiterate persons. Of -what thoughts, if any, lay behind those surfaces, the drummer could not -get the slightest inkling. - -However, she seemed tractable enough. With a little sinuous movement -she made room on the couch for the general. With perfect inertness she -allowed him to possess her hand. He picked it up, spread it in his -palm, and began patting and stroking it while his conversation returned -to Strawbridge. - -"You may light a cigar in here and be comfortable," he invited. -"Madruja is no obstacle to relaxation; rather, an assistance. Have you -never observed that your thoughts flow more smoothly when your arm is -about a pretty woman?" - -None of the scene was agreeable to Strawbridge, but this peculiar turn -caused him to ejaculate: - -"You can _think_ better with your arm around a woman?" - -"_Seguramente_, señor," agreed the dictator. "Have you not observed -that some men twiddle a pencil when they think, others smoke, some walk -up and down with their hands behind their backs? All of these are mere -bachelorish makeshifts. Your true thinker meditates with a woman's -head on his shoulder. It is, you might say, señor, the only connection -between a woman's head and thought." - -As the general's thought had become more involved, he had drawn Madruja -to him and now sat caressing her, his fingers playing abstractedly with -the ruby and along the faint indentures of her clavicles. - -Strawbridge disapproved of this almost beyond patience. He resented -this establishment in the west wing of the palace, on account of the -señora. It seemed to him that it would have been much more decent and -respectful if the dictator had taken away this second ménage, had -hidden it out of sight and denied it as Americans do in such cases. - -"I don't know about a woman giving a man ideas," he blurted out, with -disapproval tingeing his tones. - -"Read the life of Simon Bolivar," returned the general, easily, -still caressing the source of his own inspiration. "In the 'Diario -de Bucaramanga,' by de la Croix, we learn that Bolivar was unable -to plan any of the great battles which freed the South American -continent except when he was dancing with a woman. Every night, -during his military campaigns, he danced till one or two o'clock, -planning his next great stroke at Spain. That is what genius is, Señor -Strawbridge--the ability to draw on outside sources of power. The women -with whom Bolivar danced--what were they? Batteries. Bolivar was the -motor. They furnished him the energy to lift this whole continent from -tyranny to the untrammeled freedom enjoyed in Rio Negro to-day." - -The general paused a moment and continued: - -"Take me and Madruja. Out of the wealth of this woman's muliebrity, I -will extend the state of Rio Negro from the Andes to the sea. She and -I will build up great cities; gardenize the llanos; develop a people -with the finesse of the French, the energy of the Americans, and the -immensitude of the Spanish!" He pressed the girl to him passionately, -moved with the magnificence of his vision, then put her beside him -again and came down to a more normal mood by taking her hand once more -and spreading it in his own. - -This last ebullition was more than Strawbridge could tolerate. If -all this had been expounded over Dolores Fombombo, had Dolores been -alternately crushed and caressed, the drummer would have thought the -relations between the President and his wife the most beautiful he had -ever known. But the fact that Fombombo had shifted women rendered it -outrageous. Strawbridge had to speak for the wife. - -"Look here," he criticized. "That's all right. You seem to get a lot -of pep out of this young lady, but look here--" at this point Mr. -Strawbridge made one of those moral pauses which Americans inherit from -their Sunday-school teachers--"had you thought of your wife?" - -"Had I thought of my wife?" - -"Yes; had you?" - -"What is there to think of my wife?" - -For some reason the drummer blushed slightly. - -"It looks to me like she ought to come in there somewhere. Doesn't look -like another woman should step in and ... er ... uh...." He waved his -hand. - -The general was enlightened. - -"I see what you mean." He smiled. "That is a quaint American idea of -yours." - -"It's American," defended Strawbridge stoutly, "but I don't see that -it's quaint." - -"Perhaps 'quaint' is not the word, but if I may speak impersonally and -in no way appear to criticize the American point of view, I should say -it is very disrespectful in a man to think of a wife in such a way as -this. I feel safe in saying that no Spanish _caballero_ would consider -it for a moment." - -The drummer stared at this extraordinary statement. - -"Disrespectful! Do you think it would be more disrespectful to -plan your empire under your wife's inspiration than to set up an -establishment like this?" - -"_Caramba_, Señor Strawbridge! certainly! When I enter my wife's -presence I am a Spanish gentleman." Here the dictator made a bow to -a space which represented his wife. "I think of nothing but her. -For example, if Dolores were in this room would our conversation -have wandered about like this? Certainly not. Could we have smoked, -or talked on risqué topics? Certainly not. The Spaniard keeps his -mistresses, Señor Strawbridge, out of sincere respect and devotion -to--" he made another slight bow toward the empty space--"to his wife." - -It was an extraordinary attitude, and as far as the drummer could -analyze it, seemed informed with a fine chivalry. He sat looking rather -numbly at the dictator with the gorgeous peon girl in his arms. He -gave up that point of attack, and shifted the topic of conversation, -American fashion, by saying suddenly and rather loudly: - -"Well, not to change the subject, General, I dropped around to-night to -set right a little mistake we made the other day." - -The President abandoned South America's favorite topic, Woman, with -evident reluctance. - -"Yes?" he questioned. - -"Yes, it's about Josefa." - -The President repeated the name emptily. - -"The little clerk you put in prison the other day; don't you remember? -You jailed him because he told me how you ran your government." - -Even the diplomatic general showed surprise. - -"Josefa? How do you know I imprisoned a man named Josefa?" - -Strawbridge burst out laughing. - -"You can't expect me to tell who told me. You might jug that person, -too." - -"Hardly that," said the dictator, drily. "Then will you tell me why -this unmentioned person said I imprisoned a man named Josefa?" - -"I'll tell you about Josefa. He's already in trouble. The other day I -was down at the 'Sol y Sombra,' and I wanted to make a hardware display -to boost trade in my line. Josefa was dead against it. I was about to -put up the display anyway, when Josefa said if I did it would certainly -cause the government tax on the store to advance, and maybe lead to its -confiscation. I didn't believe it, but he went ahead to tell me how the -Government had grabbed one man's ranch because it stood the dry season -better than--" - -"Señor Strawbridge," interrupted the general, with a little line coming -around the lobe of his nose, "you have been made the victim of the -usual calumnious gossip which circulates too freely in Canalejos. The -ranch to which you probably refer was a deserted hacienda, and, rather -than allow its lands to go to waste, the Government occupied it." - -Strawbridge saw by the general's face that he would help no one by -pursuing that course, so he said, "Oh, was that the way?" as if he had -heard the explanation for the first time. He then shifted about to his -next topic. - -"General," he began, "I've been thinking about Canalejos and Rio Negro, -and the way you run things down here. Don't you believe you would get -more out of it if you would make all investments perfectly safe in your -country?" - -"I shall have to ask you to explain that, too." - -"For example, Fando, that peon whose horse you took for your cavalry. -No doubt the loss of his horse stopped the cultivation of his hacienda, -and yet to some extent the wealth of Rio Negro depends upon Fando's -land being cultivated." - -"That is true," admitted the dictator, stiffly, "but it is more -important that the liberty and independence of Rio Negro be maintained -than that Fando have a horse. You must be aware, Señor Strawbridge, -that the prime necessity of any government is its governmental -existence. You are an American. Everything you possess, down to your -body, is liable to conscription in time of military necessity, is it -not?" - -"Yes, that's true, but I get paid for what my Government seizes." - -"What would it pay you?" - -"Money, of course." - -"There you are," smiled the general, getting back on comfortable -abstractions again. "Money is a medium of exchange, a promise of goods -in the future. The value of American money depends upon America's -winning her wars. Unfortunately I have no Rio Negran money yet, though -I think I shall print some. If I had it, of course I would pay Fando. -Why not? It wouldn't cost me anything. On the other hand, if I finally -win against the State of Venezuela, Fando will not be forgotten. In -short, my dear Señor Strawbridge, I seize the goods of the people for -the good of the people--just as every other government does." - -Thomas Strawbridge nodded his agreement and, with a sense of -frustration, arose to make his devoirs. He wished he could have got -Josefa out. The poor little monkey-eyed clerk was at that moment lying -in some loathsome dungeon of La Fortuna. Well, it could not be helped. - -Strawbridge gave a little sigh, smiled mechanically, and advanced to -the couch with outstretched hand. - -"Well, I hope my talk has done no harm, General. I'm really keen to -help you in a business way." - -The dictator arose, and suggested that his guest remain. He said -Madruja would be charmed if Strawbridge would stay. With the girl -thrust on his attention like that, the salesman bent over her hand to -make his adieus to her. - -Her hand rested limply in his, and she remained mute while he expressed -his pleasure at meeting her. - -As she stood thus, looking at him over their clasped hands, with her -black surfaced eyes, there came the sound of a door opening behind the -men. The black eyes of the girl shifted a little from Strawbridge's -face and stared over his shoulder. A change came over her features as -if she had seen a ghost. Even her scarlet lips paled. With her lips she -formed, rather than said the name, "Esteban!" - -Both Fombombo and Strawbridge whirled. In the doorway stood a peon boy -with a knife in his hand. He wore the cheap finery which peons don for -concert night. Esteban's face was drawn and clay-colored, and he stood -blinking in the bright light which bewildered his eyes. - -The dictator evidently did not know who Esteban was. He rapped out -sternly: - -"_Bribon_, what do you mean entering this room without permission?" - -The youth replied with a sudden lunge at the President. Strawbridge -saw the flash of the knife, and, with a remnant of his old football -interference, shot his body, shoulder down, straight into the midriff -of the leaping figure. - -The American's two hundred and ten pounds hit the boy like a catapult. -It smashed him backward and down. His knife snapped out of his hands, -his hat flew off, his head struck heavily on the tiled floor. The -general was calling angrily for the guards. A moment later three of -these little men entered the door, with their rifles. - -The President pointed at the youth on the floor. - -"Take that _bribon_. He made an attack on me. You rascals will have to -explain how he got in!" - -The three guards, rather panic-struck, pounced on the peon. They got -him up and held his arms behind him. Strawbridge's blow in the stomach -had made Esteban sick, and now he bent over as far as his captors would -permit, retching and slobbering, with anguished eyes looking at the -girl. - -"Madruja!" he gasped between his convulsions. "Eh, Madruja, _mi vida_, -I would give my last breath for--" - -"What are you saying to Madruja?" demanded the President. - -"She is my wife," gasped Esteban, painfully. "You locked her up in this -room and then ... took her!" - -The dictator stared at the fellow. - -"Locked her up and took her! Do you imagine I would take any woman? -She came to me of her own will!" He turned to the girl and his voice -changed: "Here, Madruja, my darling, my little heaven, deny this -empty-headed rascal's charge!" - -The girl stood staring at the two men. - -"What, _Señor el Presidente_?" She trembled. - -"Deny this charge. Or, rather, here is a villain who calls himself your -husband; choose between us. You are free, you have always been free. -And you, _bribon_, you too are free. I mean it.--Loose him men!--Choose -between me and this wretch!" - -The three guards released Esteban's arms. The peon looked about, then -advanced a step toward the girl, with a bewildered joy coming into his -sick face. - -"Madruja!" he wavered, holding out his arms. "Madruja, did you hear -what the _Presidente_ said? Did you hear what the good _Presidente_ -said, little Madruja?" He was approaching her, shuddering with his -sickness and his sudden rapture. - -The girl looked at him fixedly. She withdrew a step. - -"_Caramba_, Esteban!" she shrugged, "you smell of donkeys. You have -done a mad thing coming here. I am not a peon girl any more. I am the -mistress of _Señor el Presidente_. Look at me! See this silk, this -ruby! Do you imagine I would grind cassava for a peon who smells like a -donkey?" She shrugged, and turned away to a window. - -In the silence that followed, one of the little guards saluted. - -"What shall we do with him, your Excellency?" - -"Kick him out of the _palacio_ and let him go!" - -The three soldiers obeyed literally and promptly. They seized Esteban -from behind and trundled him toward the door, with hard kicks of their -knees against his buttocks. The wretch moved, half falling, half held -up, in a series of jounces which kept his head bobbing and his mop of -shining youthful hair whipping from side to side. After the quartet -passed through the door Strawbridge could still hear the muffled thuds -of the guards' knees as they kicked Esteban down the corridor toward -the entrance. - -The incident left Strawbridge mute. The dictator interrupted his -intellectual vacancy by saying: - -"Señor Strawbridge, I have to thank you for your interference. I might -have had a cut or two from that young madman before I could secure -his knife." The general's arm encircled Madruja as he spoke. The girl -submitted without any expression whatever on her wild, handsome face. - -"It was nothing, General, nothing at all. As I have said before, any -little service...." Strawbridge broke off and stood pondering a moment, -then asked, "Will you tell me, General, why you imprison Josefa for -merely speaking a word of criticism of your country, and then have -Esteban kicked out and allowed to go free when he makes an attack on -your life?" - -The dictator shrugged. - -"What I did to Esteban will stop Esteban; what I did to Josefa will -stop Josefa." The President of Rio Negro stood faintly smiling and -caressing the finely molded shoulders of his mistress. - -Strawbridge was outraged. - -"Why, there is no justice in that! Imprison a man for life for speaking -a word; let another go free when he attempts murder!" - -With amused eyes the President regarded his guest. - -"Señor Strawbridge, what you say is a result of your unfortunate -American commercial training. You Americans have a naïve idea that -justice is a sort of balancing of an account. You try to make the -severity of the punishment balance with the heinousness of the crime. -It is your national instinct to keep a ledger. - -"But what is justice? Is there any accountant in heaven or on earth -calling for any such exactitude? Is punishment a thing that can be -measured or weighed? What good does punishing a man do? Whom does it -benefit? Nobody. There is only one object in punishment, and that is to -stop crimes. Any effort to balance a punishment with a crime is absurd -and the work of infantile intelligences. Take Esteban. He attacked my -life. If I disgrace him before this lovely señorita here, if I kick -him out of my palace, do you fancy he will ever have the hardihood to -return? You know he won't. On the contrary, if I had imprisoned him, as -I did Josefa, that would have made a hero of him, and every lover of -every one of my mistresses would feel obliged to come and chop at me -with his knife. If they know they will be kicked out and laughed at, -they will not come. In short, the punishment cures the crime." - -"But look at Josefa!" cried Strawbridge. "He did almost nothing, and -you have put him in a dungeon for life!" - -The dictator became stern. - -"He talked too much. The only place for a man who talks too much is -where there is no one to talk to. No other punishment on earth will -stop an idle tongue." - -Strawbridge stood thinking over this extraordinary code of law. It -was not justice as the drummer knew it; it was a code of expediency. -As usual, the President's reasoning appeared to be correct and -unanswerable. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -To Thomas Strawbridge the expedition against San Geronimo was invested -with a sense of unreality. Every detail of it cast a faint doubt on the -credibility of the drummer's impressions--the rabble of peon cavalry, -mounted on mules, donkeys, and a few horses; a motley of women--wives, -mistresses, and sweethearts of the soldiers--some in carts, some -riding donkeys, some on foot. The troops hauled a single three-pound -field-gun with its snout in an old canvas bag and its breech wrapped -in palm-leaves. Not less unbelievable was the priest, Father Benicio, -in his black cassock and priest's round black hat. He was mounted -on a mule, and at his pommel hung his crucifix, a little gourd of -consecrated oil, and a vial of holy water. With these instruments of -grace he would administer extreme unction to the unfortunate of the -expedition. - -The string of adventurers was sufficiently long so that when -Strawbridge looked back from his place in the van the women and -soldiers at the end of the column appeared hazy from the dust and -shimmered with the heat-waves. - -It was a breathless and wilting heat. When Strawbridge crossed the -llanos in a motor-car the hot wind had depressed him, but now, without -the speed of the automobile, the heat enveloped him with a greasy, -pinching sensation. The warmth of his horse's body kept his legs sudsy. -He tried to squirm his flesh away from his wet underclothes. Often he -would ride five minutes at a time with his eyes shut against the glare -of the sun reflected from the sand. - -For ten or twelve kilometers the route of the army followed the -left bank of the Rio Negro. The rapids set in just below the city of -Canalejos, and for upward of a mile they filled the air with a vast -watery rumble. But the river was so wide that Strawbridge could see -from the shore nothing but a ripple in the broad yellow waters. The -thunder of the rapids appeared to arise out of a placid expanse without -cause. It was as if the river were in some mysterious travail. - -The passage of the army flushed white egrets from along the bank, and -once six flamingos arose and winged slowly away, making a crimson line -against the sky. Along the sand-bars huge caymans slept in an ecstasy -of heat. Their long whitish bellies fitted over stones and the curves -in the sand with a kind of disgusting flexibility. - -Some time later the line of march veered away from the river and lost -itself in the endless, almost imperceptible undulations of the llanos. -The monotony of these llanos somehow nibbled away the last shred of -reality for Thomas Strawbridge. It seemed to him that everything in the -world had ceased to exist except this shimmering furnace of sand. - -The drummer rode at a post of honor, at the head of the column beside -Coronel Saturnino. Behind him came the fighters, in a gradually -thickening dust, until the end of the column traveled in a cloud. The -colonel himself moved along impassively, apparently as little affected -by the heat as the saddle he sat. He kept looking about as if he -recognized landmarks in the endless repetition of the llanos. Presently -he pointed through the glare and said: - -"There is 'El Limon,' Señor Strawbridge." - -The drummer screwed up his eyes against the shimmer, and made out what -looked like a grove of trees on the horizon. Nearer, the spot developed -into trees and a house of some sort. There seemed to be only one house. -Strawbridge stared mechanically. The heat dulled his perceptions. - -"What is it?" he asked. - -"A hacienda. It belongs to an English firm, and is in federal -territory. We are outside of General Fombombo's scope of influence now." - -Strawbridge repeated these last words mechanically; the meaning was -almost baked out of them by the heat of the sun beating on his head. -"Outside of General Fombombo's scope of influence...." The drummer -remembered the red line on the map in the library. So that was where -he was--on that red line. The whole force of peons, officers, men, and -women were crossing that red line and trying to extend it. - -"How far is it to San Geronimo?" he asked. - -"We're about half-way." - -Strawbridge rode on for ten or fifteen minutes, with his eyes resting -on the deep green of the grove. It was a eucalyptus grove. He noted -this vaguely; then his mind went back to the answer to his questions. -They were about half the distance ... outside the scope of General -Fombombo's influence.... A red line on the map of Venezuela.... They -were extending that, pushing it eastward and southward.... Somewhere -the señora was playing a piano in a cool room.... The pleasant -señora.... God, but it was hot! - -The estate of "El Limon," in the Orinoco basin, belonged to an English -meat-packing concern, and it was managed by a Trinidadian and his wife, -the Tollivers. These English colonials lived in a ranch-house made of -stone instead of adobe. Near the dwelling-house stood a vast wooden -barn. It was this barn which Strawbridge had seen from a distance. -House and barn were shaded by a magnificent eucalyptus grove, and these -great trees formed the only restful spot amid the leagues of burning -llanos. It was an English experiment and importation, this grove, and -not another like it existed in all Venezuela. - -Mr. Tolliver was a tall, rangy man wearing a native palm-fiber hat and -alpargatas. He was burned browner than the natives themselves, but it -was the deep reddish-brown of the Anglo-Saxon, not the yellowish-brown -of a Spaniard. Out of this deep-brown face two pale English eyes looked -on Venezuela, in chill condemnation. - -As the seekers of liberty rode up, Mr. Tolliver stood with his back -to a high barbed-wire enclosure around his barn, with his elbows and -one big foot propped back against its wires. With a depth of sarcasm -marking his bearded mouth and glinting out of his pale eyes, he watched -the cavalcade. As the army filed into the cool glade, Mr. Tolliver -remarked in the queer mouthy English of a West Indian colonial: - -"Well, you bloody sons of liberty are after my stock again, I see." - -Coronel Saturnino betrayed no annoyance at this reception. He bade the -rancher "_Buenos tardes_," and asked if his men might eat in the shade. -The big Trinidadian gave a sardonic consent. Saturnino sat on his -horse, enjoying this relief from the sun, and glanced about over the -barbed-wire enclosure. - -"You have a fine Hereford bull, Señor Tolliver," he admired. - -The rancher did not turn his head. - -"At present I have," he remarked drily. - -"And some excellent chickens," smiled the colonel, who seemed to be -enjoying some private jest. - -These very mild and complimentary observations seemed suddenly to -enrage Tolliver. He put his foot down and burst out: - -"What the bloody hell makes you drool along like that? Why don't you -say what you're going to steal, and quit purring like a cat?" - -Saturnino shrugged politely. - -"You must pardon me, Señor Tolliver. I so seldom meet an Englishman, -I am not yet an expert in discourtesy." The officer continued his -observation of the estate: "And horses, Señor Tolliver, mounts for my -men. If you could spare a few horses...." - -The suggestion irritated the Trinidadian to a remarkable degree. His -eyes filled with a pale fire, and with a concentration which surprised -the drummer he called down the curses of God on the colonel. In the -midst of this outburst, the rancher's eyes fell on Strawbridge. He -stopped his profanity abruptly and stared. - -"Look here," he demanded, "aren't you a white man?" - -The tone and implication left Strawbridge rather uncomfortable in the -presence of the Venezuelan. - -"I'm an American," he said, avoiding the issue of color. - -"Well, what the bloody hell are you following this gang of cut-throats -and horse-thieves around for!" - -The rancher's qualifications were edged with a righteous anger. Indeed, -the fellow's oaths seemed to strip off a certain moral semblance which -had hung over the expedition and leave it threadbare and shabby. The -drummer hardly knew how to answer, when Coronel Saturnino relieved him -of the necessity of answering at all. The officer very courteously -introduced the rancher to the salesman and explained the latter's -business. - -The deep-brown Englishman stood appraising Strawbridge, and at last -remarked: - -"Well, you Americans certainly chase dollars in tighter places than any -other decent man would. But, anyway, you're a white man. So come on in -and have lunch. My wife and I get so bloody lonesome out here in this -hell-hole, we're glad to see anything that's white." - -Strawbridge was about to refuse this scathing hospitality, when Coronel -Saturnino burst out laughing. - -"Go!" he urged. "We shall be here for some time, rounding up some -horses, and you need a rest and something to eat; you look exhausted." - -The drummer agreed, and climbed stiffly off his horse. Notwithstanding -the Englishman's brusquerie, Strawbridge rather liked the tall, brown, -pale-eyed man. After the perpetual tepid courtesy of the Venezuelans -his downrightness was as bracing as a cold shower. - -Once Tolliver had decided to accept Thomas Strawbridge as a respectable -white man in good standing, he did it wholeheartedly. He preceded his -guest through a yard set with flowers in formal stone-bordered beds, a -mode of flower arrangement dear to an Englishwoman's heart, no matter -in what part of the world she is. The stone house had a wide wooden -porch running completely around it. In front this was furnished with -mats, a number of pieces of porch furniture, and a swing; around at -one side were littered harness, garden tools, two or three boxes, and -a number of large calabashes sawed off at the top. All the doors and -windows were screened with copper gauze. Tolliver went to the door and -spoke through the screen. - -"Lizzie," he called, "Mr. Strawbridge, an American gentleman, will -lunch with us," and a moment later a woman's pleasant voice called -back, "Ask him whether he will have green or black tea, George." - - -While the two men were seated on the porch, looking over the grove, -Tolliver, with an Englishman's pertinacity, returned to the topic of -American dollar-chasing. - -"I don't see how you run around with these scrapings," he criticized. -"My eyes, man! you've got to be careful who you sell rifles to in this -bloody country! Half these beggars can't be trusted with firearms--" He -broke off, peering out into his barn lot. "Look--look yonder, at those -women catching up my chickens! When an army of liberation sets out from -Canalejos, about half of 'em stop at my ranch, load up with my live -stock, and go back home--the damn, thieving...." Here Tolliver clapped -his hands, and a native boy of about fourteen appeared in the doorway. - -"Pedro," snapped the rancher, "go tell that bloody officer not to -disturb any hens with chickens. I won't have it!" - -The boy bobbed and darted away with the message. - -The Trinidadian watched him go, and then returned sourly to the subject -under discussion: - -"Revolutions are always stewing in Rio Negro--one set of thieves after -another. A bunch comes through every six or eight months. They are -always about to do wonderful things. I remember one time I provisioned -General Dimancho. He was just about to save his country. I believed -him. He won, and spoiled like an egg. Then Miedo made me a very -expensive visit. He really talked me over. They can all talk you over -if you listen to 'em. As long as they are not in power, they're the -best of patriots. Miedo was going to stabilize Venezuela. Well, he -did take Rio Negro, and he squeezed it drier than the shell of that -calabash yonder." The rancher made a rough gesture. "God! the rotters -who have squirmed and fought their way to power and debauchery in this -damnable country!" With pale, angry eyes he stared into the grove. "The -trouble is in the stock ... scrub ... scum. You can't make any decent -government out of this ... manure." And Tolliver dropped the subject. - -Twenty minutes later a rather faded but still pretty young woman in a -gingham dress came out at the door, smiled at the two men, and told -them that tiffin was ready. Strawbridge was introduced to Lizzie -Tolliver. Later, during the lunch, the drummer learned that his hostess -was the daughter of the Bishop of St. Kitts. - -The luncheon hour was occupied by George Tolliver in relating the -peculiar difficulties which beset his cattle ranch. This hacienda had -been established as a feeder for an English meat-packing corporation at -Valencia. - -To begin with, a packing-house had been established at Valencia, and a -contract made with the Venezuelan President that he should furnish the -house with so many first-class steers daily. This the President had -failed to do, furnishing, instead, a supply of under-grade animals. -Repeated protests from the English company produced no effect. At last -the company had established this ranch on the Orinoco to furnish itself -with meat. The venture proved a success. By importing fine bulls the -company raised the grade of the llano longhorns into a very superior -beef cattle. As soon as the English syndicate had demonstrated its -ability to raise good beef, the Venezuelan President instructed the -Venezuelan congress to place a heavy interstate tax on all cattle -transported from one state to another. This tax was so onerous that the -company could not afford to move a hoof from the State of Guarico to -the State of Carabobo, where Valencia was situated. The result was that -the company was forced to buy the President's low-grade cattle, while -the meat raised on its own hacienda had no possible market and simply -went to waste. - -At the conclusion of this narrative, Tolliver broke into acidulous -laughter. - -"Now you see why I aided General Dimancho and General Miedo to start -a revolution against the Venezuelan Government. In fact, I was given -the hint from the London office. Well, each of these men won in his -turn, and both grew so bad that they were ousted. Fombombo was the last -deliverer. But of late I hear rumors that he has turned out to be a -damned rascal and they are trying to overthrow him now." - -Here Lizzie Tolliver, who had been giving her husband significant -glances throughout this narrative, interrupted to say: - -"George, you would better not speak so unreservedly of Mr. -Strawbridge's friends." - -"Friends! Friends!" shouted the Trinidadian. "They are not -Strawbridge's friends! We Anglo-Saxons trade with these natives; we -talk with 'em, live among 'em, and occasionally marry 'em, but we never -really get acquainted with any of 'em, and we never make a friend." - -There was a certain verity in the rancher's appraisal, and the -Tollivers themselves proved it. During this brief lunch hour -the drummer and his English hosts were talking intimately and -understandingly in a fashion which Strawbridge perhaps would never -achieve with the colonel, Lubito, Father Benicio, or even with the -señora.... - -The drummer wondered about the señora.... - -A few minutes later the little party was interrupted by the appearance -of the native boy in the doorway, who said that Coronel Saturnino was -waiting outside. Tolliver arose, and Strawbridge followed, saying that -perhaps the troops were ready to march. - -On the porch they found Coronel Saturnino standing at attention, with a -very affable air, holding in his hand a sheet of paper. - -He made a slight bow and tendered the paper. - -"Here is a receipt, Señor Tolliver, for twenty horses, three cows, -fifty chickens, and eleven ducks," he explained blandly. "As we -come back by here General Fombombo would greatly appreciate one -of your thoroughbred Hereford bulls, to be used on his ranch for -breeding-purposes, and I have just included the bull in this receipt." - -The Trinidadian burst out into another paroxysm of profane anger. The -officer shrugged mildly. - -"You need not take it, _mi amigo_, unless you want it, but it will be -valuable to you some day." - -"What day? How? I've heard that before!" - -"This receipt is payable on the day General Fombombo extends his estate -to the sea. When that day comes, present this receipt at the capital -of the future state of Rio Negro, and you will be paid in full." - -Tolliver broke into sardonic laughter. - -"To hell with you and your receipt! General Miedo was to pay me when he -marched into Caracas as a conqueror." - -Coronel Saturnino bowed and tossed the paper away. - -"You English folk are childish," he philosophized. "You have no sense -of the inevitable. You, señor, suffer from the same evils as all -other citizens of Venezuela. I, and my men out there, are risking our -lives to rectify those ills. Many of them will die to-morrow, that -is ineluctable. Yet while they spend their lives to benefit you, you -grudge them even the beef and a few fowls which they eat and the horses -upon which they ride to their death." - -Tolliver drew a disgusted mouth. - -"I've heard that so many times it makes me sick." - -Saturnino bowed again. - -"May I pay my respects to the señora, and may I wish you _adios, -pues_." He turned to Strawbridge. "Señor, the company awaits your -convenience." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -The commandeering of the horses at the English ranch shocked -Strawbridge; when the cavalcade set forth on the march again, the -heat and glare of the llanos aggravated his mental disturbance. As he -sweltered in the center of a vast shimmering horizon, he kept repeating -mentally, at unexpected intervals, the epithet "horse-thieves." Each -time these words bobbed up in his mind he put them down, rather -like a man who is trying to keep some buoyant object under water, -"horse-thieves ... horse-thieves ... horse-thieves ..." over and over. -His thinking did not progress much farther than that. What made the -buoyant object so difficult to control was the fact that he himself was -riding one of Tolliver's horses. The very rhythm of the fine animal -between his legs was a reminder and a reproach. - -Sweat trickled into the drummer's eyes and stung them. He blinked -through the quivering heat, with screwed-up lids, and wondered what -he could have done about the horse. When Coronel Saturnino insisted -that he take one of the best of the English mounts, he could not have -said, "No, I am a decent American salesman, and I won't ride a stolen -horse." He could not have said such a thing as that in the face of the -colonel's polite consideration. - -On the other hand, the damning thought that he was riding a stolen -horse gnawed at the drummer with the persistence of a rat. It gave him -a faint, ghastly feeling in the pit of his stomach, where, perhaps, is -located the genuine seat of conscience with us all. - -Presently Strawbridge noted a surprising thing. Looking back over the -cavalcade, he observed Father Benicio riding one of the confiscated -horses. The good father jogged along in his dusty black cassock and his -little round hat, with the sacred emblems dangling from his pommel, and -he was riding a stolen horse. His questionable mount had not changed -the priest's face at all. It was the same thin, ascetic face with -its look of passionate spirituality burning through the repression, -almost the mortification of the flesh. Strawbridge wondered what -mental attitude Father Benicio assumed toward his horse in order to -preserve so eremitic an expression. He felt the holy father must have -some inward justification which he, himself, did not possess. Almost -involuntarily he picked his way among the troopers, to the priest's -side. As he came near he observed that Gumersindo was riding beside the -father. The negro editor's face was covered with dust, and he looked -queer because the dust settling in the furrows of his forehead made -whitish lines against his black skin. - -The black man waved the American a grave salute. - -"Do you know, Señor Strawbridge," he called above the wide noise of -the horses' feet, "that this is the same sort of expedition Bolivar -led against Montillo when he freed this continent? They had beaten the -_Libertador_ everywhere else, but when they threw him back upon these -interminable llanos, he drew fresh strength, like Antæus, and struggled -on." - -Strawbridge nodded wearily. - -"Sure, sure...." He looked at the priest, a little doubtful how -to proceed. The negro journalist continued talking, in a sort of -exaltation: - -"I never start on an expedition of this kind that I do not think, -'Perhaps to-day I am making history.' That is a wonderful thought, -Father Benicio--history! Think! Perhaps this very moment is historic! -Perhaps it will be embalmed in the memory of the future. It is just -as if we should march forever through the mind of mankind! Other -deedless generations will rise up and vanish as unremarked as the -succeeding harvests of llano grass, but perhaps what we do to-day will -be painted, carved in marble, sung in song, and told in story as long -as civilization lasts! I say it is possible!" - -Such a dithyramb from a negro among a band of horse-thieves moved -Strawbridge with a certain disgust. He drew a handkerchief and wiped -his sweaty, gritty face. - -"I guess you're making history for that English ranch," he satirized; -"a record of these horses will appear in their profit-and-loss column." - -Gumersindo looked around at the drummer, and suddenly began to laugh. - -"_Caramba!_ He's thinking about the dollars and cents of this -adventure!" - -This was just the fillip needed to set the drummer off. He straightened -in his saddle. - -"Well, by God, it's not dollars and cents, either; it's just -plain honesty. I don't know how you fellows feel, but I'm damned -uncomfortable riding a horse we stole from Tolliver!" - -Both editor and priest were staring at him. - -"What a disturbance over a detail!" ejaculated the black man. - -"How do you feel about your mount, Father Benicio?" asked Strawbridge. - -The priest's ascetic face relaxed into a rather pleasant smile. - -"I feel it is much more comfortable than the mule I rode, my son." - -The drummer was amazed. - -"Don't you think it's wrong?" - -"Our action is directed toward a great and noble end, my son. Venezuela -is sick to death. If confiscating these horses rids the country of a -dictator, surely the end justifies the means!" - -"But look here!" cried Strawbridge. "The English company is not in on -this. They are the innocent bystander who gets the bullet through the -heart." - -"They are already shot through the heart, señor," answered Father -Benicio, patiently; "their horses and cattle are worth nothing to them, -on account of unjust legislation." - -"But their property still belongs to them," cried the drummer. "That -doesn't justify us in stealing it!" - -"Did God create these horses simply to live and die without being of -use to any one?" - -"That's up to the company. It's their horses." - -The priest looked at the drummer oddly. Gumersindo interposed: - -"Father, let me explain Señor Strawbridge to you. I said, a while ago, -he had reduced this to dollars and cents. So he has. You must remember -that property is a fetish in America. Americans do not possess their -property, they are possessed by it. In America the prime factor of -civilization is property; in Venezuela the prime factor is Man." - -Strawbridge was hot enough to grow angry instantly. - -"Look here," he cried, "let me nail that lie right now, while I got -my hammer out! We Americans spend our money just as free as you -Venezuelans, and a damn sight freer!" - -"But, Señor Strawbridge," returned the editor, politely, "that has -nothing to do with my analysis. In America all your social framework is -built around money. Rich men are respected, and poor men are not. It -would be better to say that in America property is respected and men -are not." - -"That's impossible!" cried Strawbridge, steadily growing angrier. - -"Not at all. When an American loses his money, he loses the friendship -and respect of his fellow Americans. The man who acquires the former -rich man's fortune, acquires also the respect that goes with it." -Gumersindo made a gesture. "_Pues_, do you recall, Señor Strawbridge, -that the first draft of the American Declaration of Independence read -in this fashion: 'All men are born free, and are equally entitled to -life, liberty, and the pursuit of property'? The word 'happiness,' -substituted by Jefferson, was merely an American euphemism for -'property'; it means the same thing in America." - -"Why--by God!--I recall nothing of the kind!" shouted Strawbridge, with -the American conviction that if one denied history in a loud voice it -would cease to exist. "No, that's just a damn lie some damn Venezuelan -started on Americans!" - -"Certainly I am no expert in American history," agreed the editor, -smoothly. "You doubtless know the history of your country better than I -do." - -"Well, I hope I do!" grumbled Strawbridge, feeling for the moment that -because he was an American he necessarily knew more of American history -than Gumersindo, who was not an American. - -"So, dropping the historical statement--which may be false, although I -discovered it in some research work in your own Congressional Library -at Washington--dropping that, pure inductive reasoning will tell you -Americans do respect property, and that they do not respect human -beings. - -"Remember, your country is populated mainly by immigrants who came to -the New World to seek their fortunes. Most of these newcomers were -without culture and without any feeling for human values. They were -poor, and, never having had any money, they naturally thought that -money must contain all value. Therefore they transposed the value of -a man's fortune to the man himself. They thought any man who became -wealthy must have great value, and they called him a success. They -thought any painting which commanded a high price must be a great -painting; they thought any piece of jazz music which sold a million -copies must be a great piece of music. They thought that any house -which cost a million dollars must necessarily be finer than one that -cost only five thousand dollars. Now Americans think that." - -The drummer peered hard at the negro editor. - -"Well, by God, that's a fact," he declared vigorously. "Nobody denies -that, do they? Don't you know a million-dollar house would be finer -than a five-thousand-dollar house?" - -Even Father Benicio joined Gumersindo in the laughter this article of -faith evoked. - -"_Pues_," placated the priest, the next moment, "that is the reason, -my son, why we ride our horses without compunction, and why your horse -annoys you. And I must observe that your scruples honor you. I respect -your frankness and your point of view." - -Strawbridge rode some farther distance with the two men, but he -was uncomfortable. He knew they were amused at him, and it was not -pleasant. Presently he returned to the head of the column. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -At last Strawbridge's adventure had come to a focus. He sat, galled and -dusty, on his English mount and stared at the distant metallic gleam -which encircled the southern and western segments of the horizon. That -thin, shining arc was the junction of the Orinoco and the Rio Negro. -Against its shimmer arose a single spire, so tiny and so far away that -the drummer had to scrutinize it with particularity before he could -make it out at all. So this was the upshot of all their riding and -burning and thirsting--for these sweat-caked peons to advance against a -church steeple! - -Half a dozen different impressions clamored for the American's -attention. Just behind him officers were barking their soldiers -into two squads. A little farther to the rear, the men were pulling -themselves from their wives and mistresses, to join the ranks again. -There was something elemental and unashamed in the passion of their -parting. They were much the same color as the sand they trod. They -might have been figures sprung out of the heat and travail of the -melancholy llanos, as indeed they were. They clung to each other, -these earth-colored peons; they sobbed, they kissed each other with -unrestraint, absorbed in their griefs. There was something wide and -impersonal in this passionate outpouring of their misery. They were -mummers depicting completely what every lover feels on parting with his -love. Some inhibition, some reserve seemed to melt in Strawbridge's -mind, and with a trembling tenderness he thought of the señora. He -could see her delicate face looking at him sorrowfully. Such a sense -of pathos filled him that he wondered if it did not forbode some evil -to him. Perhaps he was about to be killed; else why should the señora's -sad face appear to him so vividly? - - -Strawbridge became aware of a horseman coming up, on his left. It was -Coronel Saturnino, his face a mask of dust. For once the colonel seemed -keen and alive. His black eyes, in this dust mask, were full of fire, -but the dusty mouth was set in its inevitable sardonic quirk. - -"I rode over to suggest that you hang a carbine to your saddle." He -smiled. - -Strawbridge looked down at his pommel doubtfully. - -"I thought perhaps if I went in as a neutral--" - -"_Pues_, you are likely not to come out at all." - -"Then you think I had better carry a gun?" - -"It's safer." The colonel beckoned a soldier to him and gave an order -that sent the man to the rear, to return presently with a carbine for -Strawbridge. While the peon strapped it to the drummer's saddle, the -colonel's black eyes, with their look of chronic amusement, passed over -his recruits. - -"These peons are going out to fight for their freedom," he observed -with his tone of satire. "They are perpetually going out to fight for -their freedom. Different saviors rise up--a Miedo, a Fombombo. Now it -is Saturnino, and only the Holy Virgin knows who next will be leading -these tatterdemalions to freedom!" With sardonic wrinkles in his dust -mask he looked at the drummer. - -Strawbridge tried to shift his leg so it would not touch the hard -carbine. He was somehow incensed at Saturnino's tone. - -"What better thing can they fight for than their freedom?" - -The colonel shrugged. - -"Probably nothing. It makes a very exciting game for gentlemen--these -peons wanting to be free. What finer thing could a peon do than to -entertain a _caballero_?" - -Strawbridge stared at the dust mask. - -"Good God, Saturnino! Is that all this is to you?--an entertainment, a -game?" - -The officer shrugged again. - -"_Pues_, of course it isn't business." He paused with a quizzical -look, and then went on: "But what I really rode over to tell you is, I -am dividing the men into two squadrons. I will lead one in a frontal -attack on the _casa fuerte_. The other, Lieutenant Rosales will lead -around by the river. It will make its way through the wharves and -attack the _casa fuerte_ from the rear." - -Strawbridge had become attentive, and nodded to these plans. - -"You may go along with either of the parties," invited the colonel, "or -you may stay here with the women until the fight is over." - -"No, certainly not! I'll go by the river," chose Strawbridge, at once. - -The colonel nodded, and smiled once again through his grime. - -"As you will; and may luck wait on your courage! _Adios!_" - -The two men reached across the necks of their stolen horses and shook -hands. - -"Same to you, colonel, and so long," said the drummer, somewhat moved. - -Saturnino suddenly jerked his horse in a curvette, and saluted easily -as the big English animal plunged with him back toward his line. - -The drummer turned his own mount and rode toward Rosales's column. -Lieutenant Rosales was a smallish, sharp-featured youth whose eyes were -surrounded with such dark rings that they showed through the dust. -Strawbridge remembered having seen him before, in the plaza. Now he was -going to fight under this little _roué_, perhaps die under his command. -He felt as if he were going to fight with a crowd of street gamins. It -was a mean adventure. - -The men under Rosales sat stolid and quiet on their mules and horses. -Saturnino's sarcasm revisited the drummer's mind: "These peons are -perpetually fighting for their freedom, under this savior and that. -They've been at it upward of four centuries. Now I'm leading them," and -he had laughed. - -A gust of pity shivered through the American's bowels for these stolid -men, arming and seeking a leader for four centuries, and led by -Saturnino, a man to whom their travail was a game! - -At that moment the sickly-looking officer whipped out his sword and -barked an order, and the next moment the cavalry set off at a gallop -through the heat and dust. The drummer fell into the ranks. He twisted -in his saddle for any easement he could find. His carbine added a new -pain to his riding. It banged his thigh with a strange adroitness. -Within ten or fifteen minutes a dust rose up among so many galloping -horses which made the air almost unbreathable. These petty tortures so -harassed the drummer that he looked forward to actual fighting as a -relief. To avoid the dust he swung his horse out of line and spurred -him to the van of the column. By the time the American was even with -Lieutenant Rosales, he had reached clean breathing, and he expanded his -lungs with a sense of great relief. But the peons, the dirt-colored -men who after four hundred years of rebellion were now playing Coronel -Saturnino's game, these peons rode resolutely in the heat and dust -without breaking line. The thin-faced officer with the black circles -about his eyes stared fixedly ahead. - -Presently the troopers galloped up another long swell in the desert, -and when they reached its crest Strawbridge was shocked to see how -close they were upon the city of San Geronimo. He could see the red -roofs of the adobes, a wireless tower run up like a spider-web, and the -very bells in the campanile. Around the street entrances were swarms of -people in a state of excitement. Some rushed into their houses; others -went flying into the llanos--straggling figures bound for no other goal -than to escape the coming storm. - -Strawbridge watched the scene curiously, as if he were some idle -spectator. Presently Rosales drew his sword, swung his men out of line -with the main entrance, and veered toward the west, toward the stretch -of water which was growing more and more enormous as they approached it. - -Horses and mules, on they went, faster and faster. There was a wide -space between the town and the river, to give play to the overflow in -the rainy season. Into this space Rosales headed. The hoofs of the -cavalcade made a dull drumming in the sand. Far down the river bank, -opposite the business part of town, Strawbridge could see the big -freight goletas from Trinidad and Ciudad Bolívar, hastily making sail -to escape the tempest. - -Suddenly, from somewhere over on their right, came a hard blow in the -air. The flat plains lent no resonance. It was simply a crash--a sharp, -terrific impact. It was followed by another, by twos and threes, by -some indeterminable number. They hammered terrifically at Strawbridge's -ear-drums with a sense of devastating power. The Federals in the _casa -fuerte_ were cannonading Coronel Saturnino. - -The cannonading must have been an agreed signal between the colonel and -Rosales. At its roar the lieutenant yelped at his men and flung his -column headlong into the open space along the wharves of San Geronimo. - -Strawbridge went with them. He rode inexpertly, swaying dangerously on -his English mount. With his left hand he jerked at his carbine, trying -to get it out of its holster, with his right he clung to the pommel of -his saddle. He peered ahead, and the whole wharf-side seemed rushing at -him, shaken by the terrific vibrations of the horse. The few stragglers -left in sight skurried about to avoid the cavalry charge. Far ahead, -puffs of smoke came out at barred windows in the adobes. At that moment -the rumble of hoofs in the sand turned into a crashing clatter. The -horses had struck the cobblestones of the wharf. An increased heat from -the glare of the hot cobbles pinched the drummer. More smoke puffs blew -out at the windows. It occurred to the drummer that these were peons -firing on the cavalry. - -A long row of palms were planted straight down the middle of the -_playa_. As these palms vibrated toward him, the drummer glimpsed the -head and shoulders of a man, pointing a rifle, high up in a clump of -leaves. A little thrill went over him. He swung his carbine toward the -figure. - -"Hey, look at that scoundrel up that palm! Blow him out of there!" He -pointed his gun without thinking of using it. "Blow him out, I say." - -Half a dozen riders heard and looked. They swung up their carbines -and fired as they galloped. Strawbridge could see the spatter of the -bullets against the big leaves; next moment the head and shoulders made -a limp lurch forward, and the figure of a man dropped out of the palm -and turned over and over in the air. With a primitive satisfaction the -drummer watched the fall. He had wiped out an enemy. He stared down the -_playa_. Far down where the quay narrowed with distance, a line of men -were marching through the sunshine. He could see the glitter of their -bayonets and their intense shadows moving in front of them. At sight of -these federal soldiers the carbines about Strawbridge began a staccato -snapping. The distant line of soldiers stopped, knelt, aimed, like a -little row of toys in the brilliant sunshine. Then came the faint crack -of their volley. - -The effect appalled Strawbridge. A peon on the drummer's right reeled -from his saddle; ahead of him a horse reared and fell, flinging his -rider on the cobbles, under the hoofs of the horses. The drummer saw -the wretch thresh about as he was broken upon the stones. - -For answer the insurgents deployed the width of the _playa_, between -the houses and the palms, and charged. Horses, mules, howling peons, -and chattering carbines roared down the quay. The Federals fired one -more volley, then suddenly broke and fled. They scurried in every -direction. Their little human speed was so puny that the horses -overhauled them like giants. A feeling of tremendous strength filled -Strawbridge. He was a Gulliver plunging down on Lilliputians. He -selected a man to kill. The Federal sprinted desperately, but his short -legs seemed barely to move in front of the English stallion. - -The chase became a vertigo. A hard pulse pounded in Strawbridge's ears. -Never before had he known the terrific excitement of hunting a man down -and killing him. The drummer's adroitness and horsemanship sharpened to -the delight of murder. He cleared his carbine and aimed at the runner. -He meant to hit him in the cross of his canteen strap. He pulled the -trigger.... - -A terrific concussion almost bowled over the drummer and his horse. It -displaced the whole platoon. Strawbridge whirled, and saw the roofs of -the adobes lined with federal troops, firing down on the cavalry. - -Men and horses fell beneath continuous volleys. The squadron was -falling back toward the river. The men acted as if they struggled in -the teeth of a furious wind-storm. Suddenly some of them wheeled off -toward the river. Rosales was behind his men, howling and spewing -Spanish oaths. He beat the fugitives with the back of his sword. In -the uproar the hatchet-faced lieutenant, leaning forward toward the -enemy, pointed at the roofs. He might have been trying to reach the -crashing rifles with the tip of his saber. He was howling for his -men to charge. A flame of sympathy went through Strawbridge for this -indomitable knave of an officer. He headed his stallion about in the -careening column. He shouted a mixture of English and Spanish: - -"_Adelante!_ Bore into 'em! _Pronto!_ Wipe 'em out--the hellions!" - -The powerful horse might have been a stanchion shoring up the column. -His mere lunge turned three or four fugitives toward the enemy. This -whirling movement became the focus of a renewed charge. Every man took -courage from Strawbridge, from the thin-faced reprobate who led them. -The column flung itself into the teeth of the fire from the roofs. - -The stink and sting of powder-gas jabbed up Strawbridge's nose. The -Federals on the roof shone dimly behind a mist of smokeless powder. -As Strawbridge charged in, he could see the face of a man staring at -him, and the circle of a rifle muzzle under his right eye. The cavalry -plunged in against the mud walls. Horses smashed against them, reared, -fell, or squatted trembling at this blank obstruction. What for? -Strawbridge did not know. He was furiously angry. He meant to strike. - -Rosales had directed his charge toward the lowest roof in the whole -_playa_ side. It was not more than eight feet high. The focusing of -his fire on this point had cut down the defense just here and left a -gap in the line of defenders. As Rosales dashed up to this building, -he caught the adobe eaves and succeeded in drawing himself up to the -roof. A Federal seemed to discharge a gun through his head, but the -daredevil pressed on, with his automatic going. Half a dozen, a dozen -other _llaneros_ followed. A score gained footing on the low roof. -They were amazing horsemen. The Federals were not deployed on the -roofs. They could fire only from the ends of their columns. The knot of -cavalry on the red tiles grew, expanded, pressed back the feeble ends -of the enemy. The fight had transferred itself from the streets to the -house-tops--the classic stage for South American battles. - -In the midst of this extraordinary manœuver, Strawbridge found himself -trying to scramble up the corner of a building. He could not take off -from the saddle. From the ground he could just reach the eave. He clung -to the hot adobe and pulled with all his strength, kicking and pawing -at the corner with knees and feet. Now and then a bullet flicked adobe -dust into his face. With a desperate kick he did succeed in hanging a -toe over the cornice. Just as he was wriggling his heavy body up on the -roof, something about his hold broke. He dropped broadside from where -he sagged, falling about five feet and landing in the litter which -collects about Spanish-American huts. - -The big drummer lay inert, and cursed with every blasphemy to which he -could lay his tongue. He cursed Federals, insurgents, house, sun, dust. -He invoked the Deity to consign each to its particular hell. He lay in -burning dust, swearing at a mud wall not six inches from his nose. - -The tearing volleys of rifle shots were drawing a little away from -where Strawbridge lay. The quest of the peons for liberty was -withdrawing itself somewhat. Presently the American made an effort to -get out of his burning bed. He stirred, and found to his discomfiture -that one of his arms was numb. He wondered anxiously if he had broken -it. - -He used his good arm, made shift to sit up, then got to his feet. -Then he was surprised to see that his numb hand was bloody. A closer -examination showed that the bones in his palm had been shattered by a -bullet. That was what flung him from the roof. He looked at his hand -in dismay, turning it over and back. It did not seem to belong to him. -He began swearing again, mentally. What a hell of an accident to happen -to him! For him, Thomas Strawbridge, to get shot! What a damnable piece -of luck! He continued damning his luck, with quivering earnestness. -He could not realize that it was his hand, attached to his wrist. He -kept looking at it. The hand did not pain him in the least. It had no -sensation at all. - -There had been a certain order kept by the peon cavalry, of which -Strawbridge had not been aware. Now, as he looked about, he saw the -insurgents' horses trotting in a dark group far down the _playa_. -They were under the care of hostlers, which the hair-splitting plans -of Saturnino no doubt had arranged for, for just such an emergency as -this. Naturally, Strawbridge's English stallion had vanished with the -herd. - -Near at hand lay men and horses, dead and wounded. One mule, shot -through the back, was dragging itself by its fore feet. Strawbridge -picked up his carbine with his good hand and ended its struggles. - -For a few minutes the drummer stood looking at this dead mule, at a -dead peon some ten steps farther east, then at a sort of windrow of -mules and horses and peons where the cavalry had hesitated before -charging. - -These were the men whom Strawbridge had seen, only an hour before, -embracing and weeping over their loves; now they lay in all sorts of -twisted and grotesque postures; already the green flies were buzzing -about the mouths their sweethearts had kissed. Such was the outcome of -their fight for liberty. This was the freedom they had found, these -brown exhalations of the llanos, who rose up out of the earth, fought, -struggled, plotted, murdered, and sank into the llanos again. And all -their pain and fury had ever done in four centuries was to exchange one -dictator for another.... - -A profound weariness came over Strawbridge. The crotches of his legs, -which the horse had skinned, began burning again. An unlocalized -throbbing set up in his wounded arm. A fly came buzzing about, and the -drummer waved it away. Then he examined his wound again, and as he -looked he grew sick at heart. He would be crippled for the rest of his -life. Never before had a mishap befallen his big, comfortable body, and -now his hand was gone and he could never have it again. This seemed to -Strawbridge the most tragic thing which had happened in the battle of -San Geronimo--that he, who was such a busy man, who needed his hand so -much, should have lost it. - -With an American's dread of germs he wanted to tie up his wound, to -prevent infection. With this object in view, he looked anxiously about -over the shambles. - -The wharf was deserted by the living. The small _drogistas_ which -usually are found along Latin-American streets were all shut like -blind eyes. Sounds of the fighting, a little softened, came from -the direction of the _casa fuerte_. A rather wild notion came to -Strawbridge to follow the soldiers and obtain his dressing from the -medical corps of the insurgents; then he recalled that they had no -medical corps. They had brought along with them a priest to save the -dead, but they had not even a first-aid pack for the wounded. - - -Beyond the row of palms down the center of the _playa_, the drummer -presently observed a goleta, one of those curious Orinocan schooners -with preternaturally tall masts, and a little square sail swung down -under her jib. She was lying close to the bank, and evidently was stuck -on a sand-bar, for her owner was on deck, trying, with a long spar, to -pry her off. - -This sort of craft often carried passengers on the river, and the -American felt sure she would possess some of the simpler surgical -aids. So he picked up his carbine and set off at a painful pace to the -waterside. - -When the drummer had passed the row of palms and appeared moving -definitely toward the schooner, the man on deck stopped poling. He -peered through the glare, at the American, and next moment dashed out -of sight below deck. - -His action cheered Strawbridge. The drummer felt that the skipper -had understood the situation and had rushed below for his surgical -dressings, to have them ready by his arrival. This thoughtfulness put -a little better heart into the wounded man as he moved shakily along -through the glare and heat. He could not help thinking of the inherent -courtesy in all Venezuelans. It was perhaps not sincere every time, -thought the American, but it was as soothing as a poultice. - -As Strawbridge moved gratefully toward the goleta, the skipper -reappeared on deck with a stick; no, it was an outrageously long gun. -He leveled it at the drummer and fired point-blank. The bullet whistled -past the American's ear, and plunked into a heap of balata balls behind -him. - -Strawbridge stopped and stared, bewildered. The skipper was feverishly -reloading his extraordinary gun. It seemed to be some sort of -single-shot arrangement. The drummer was amazed, and suddenly outraged. - -"Here!" he shouted. "What the hell do you mean?" - -The master of the schooner lifted his weapon again, to correct his -faulty shot, when the salesman instinctively dived behind some bags of -tonka-beans. He peered over the tops, still scarcely able to believe -his senses, when the captain fired again and something nicked the -American's hat. - -At this second discharge the drummer went furious. To be fired on -casually and without any provocation whatever! With his good arm, he -flung his carbine along the top of the bags leveled down, and fired at -the captain. At his first movement, however, the sailor had dropped -down and disappeared below the garboard of the schooner. - -The American fired two vicious shots at the place where the captain -must have been prone. Then he glared at the vacant deck, with the -bitterest sense of injury he had ever known. To be fired upon when he -was seeking aid and comfort--to be shot at like a rat! - -His feeling of injury became so intense he burst out cursing the -invisible sailor, loading him with every obscene and profane -qualification. With his carbine leveled over the bags, he swore -furiously for two or three minutes. Then he began to repeat his oaths, -and presently fizzled out through a mere sense of rhetoric. Then he -damned his enemy for a coward, and invited him to stand up like a man -and get killed. - -Passed a slight interim, and a voice behind the gunwale, but -considerably removed from where the fellow had disappeared, called out, -"Señor!" - -Through some strange reaction, this placating "Señor" added fuel to -Strawbridge's wrath. He broke out again, howling, swearing, and urging -the captain to get up and be shot. - -But the captain conducted his end of the conversation from cover. - -"Señor," he repeated without any resentment in his tone, "are you not a -_revolutionista_?" - -"No!" yelled Strawbridge. "I'm a decent American citizen down in this -hell-fired country...." He continued this strain upward half a minute. - -When he became silent again, the hidden one ejaculated mildly: - -"_Caramba!_ How should I know you were an _Americano_, señor?" - -"Well,--by God!--you ought to look who you're shooting at!" - -"Up this Orinoco valley, señor, if you look too long before you shoot, -you may not get to shoot at all." - -"Huh! I bet you knew I was an American all the time." - -"No, really, señor! Why should I shoot at an _Americano_?" - -Strawbridge could think of no reason why any one should want to shoot -at an American. During the silence which followed, the sailor asked in -a placating tone: - -"May I stand up, _Señor Americano_? This deck is very warm indeed." - -The drummer relinquished his notion of killing the man. - -"All right, get up," he conceded. "We're not doing any good like this." -And Strawbridge walked out from behind the tonka-beans at the same time -the captain sat up and then stood. - -The sailor was a brown man, dripping with sweat, and with smudges of -pitch on his clothes which he had got from the seams in the deck. -He had a good-humored face, rather scared just now, and he looked -curiously at Strawbridge as he mopped his face and neck with a red -handkerchief. - -"Will you come aboard my ship, señor?" he inquired courteously, getting -his spar again and running it out to where Strawbridge could by wading -a little reach the end of it. The drummer walked aboard. - -The moment the drummer stepped on deck, the captain began hastily: - -"Now, señor, if you would be kind enough to lend me a little help ... I -am trying to float the _Concepcion Inmaculada_." - -"What's the rush?" asked the salesman, looking at his wounded hand. - -The fellow swung his weight against the spar. - -"_Caramba!_ If the _revolutionistas_ catch me here, they will strip my -poor _Concepcion Inmaculada_ to her last sheet." - -"Steal your stuff!" echoed Strawbridge. "What makes you think so!" - -"Lightning of God!" cried the shipmaster. "They are ladrones, bandits, -cutpurses! Come, give a poor man a hand, señor!" He was shoving now -with all his strength. - -"You're wrong about that!" defended the drummer, warmly. "I know those -fellows. Came up here with 'em." He doubled up his good fist and began -making strong, convincing selling gestures with it. - -"You can take this from me, señor," he said: "The revolutionists are -just as high-toned a set of men as you'll find in Venezuela. I honestly -believe General Fombombo has higher ideals than any public man I ever -knew, and as for that Coronel Saturnino--say! you got to hand it to him -for courtesy and politeness! So don't get all fussed about your boat. -You're safe as a church, right here." Strawbridge paused impressively, -and then asked, "Say, can you do anything for this damned hand of mine!" - -The captain was convinced. Perhaps of all the men in the world the -American salesman has a style of talk the most sincere in sound. The -captain visibly put by his doubts of the revolutionists, and then -looked at the hand. - -"_Caramba!_ that's a bad punch!" - -"Yeh, tough luck." - -A faint suspicion crossed the brown man's mind. - -"You were not fighting, señor? You are not a _revolutionista_ yourself?" - -"Hell, no! I got this following the troops around. I wanted to see how -they worked." - -"_Cá!_ Are you a military attaché, _Señor Americano_?" - -The ship-owner was visibly impressed, but Strawbridge straightened. - -"Say, do I look like a damn diplomatic lounge lizard sunning himself -in some South American post! By God, I'm a man! I'm an American -salesman down here investigating a point of business. I sell hardware, -myself. I make this territory once a year. What's your line!" - -The captain of the _Concepcion Inmaculada_ opened his eyes at a man who -so scorned a governmental position. His respect mounted. In fact, the -captain was born into the South American cult of respect for office. -He had never before met the North American's thoroughgoing contempt -for politics and politicians, nor was he aware of the fact that it is -barely respectable to be anything less than a senator in the United -States--and often not that. - -So now the sailor introduced himself with circumspection to so -important a personage. He was Noe Vargas, commander of the _Concepcion -Inmaculada_, sailing out of Coro. He had cruised up the Orinoco to buy -tonka-beans and balata, and would carry them to Curaçao to be reshipped -to Holland. In fact, a large part of the beans and balata which -Strawbridge saw lying on the wharf was consigned to the _Concepcion -Inmaculada_, if only Noe could succeed in lading his vessel. - -All this information was delightful to Strawbridge. In fact, this -was the first conversation which he had really enjoyed since coming -to Venezuela. And while Captain Vargas was not particularly fond -of talking of sago, copra, cassava, guarapo, and such articles of -commerce, he was flattered that so great a man as Strawbridge should -deign to listen to him. - -As they talked, Captain Vargas made shift to bind up Strawbridge's -hand. He had no surgical linen, but he thought the tail of one of his -shirts would do. Strawbridge objected, on the score of germs. The -captain assured him these were impossible, because only the day before -he had washed this shirt, which he proposed to use, in the Orinoco, and -it was a well-known fact that running water purified itself once every -thousand yards. - -"And think how pure the Orinoco must be, señor," added the captain, -"for the Orinoco had flowed for thousands and thousands of miles!" - -So Strawbridge went below, into a smelly cabin. The captain found the -shirt he meant, in a bag of dunnage, pulled it out, cut off the tail, -and bound up the drummer's hand. - - -The two men were still talking business when they returned to the -deck. Strawbridge had excited himself somewhat by explaining that if -the revolutionists took San Geronimo it would mean for him an order -of thousands of rifles and cases of ammunition. This meant a rich -commission. The skipper and the drummer stood on deck, listening to the -gun-shots which would decide the American's commission. The reports -came in gusts. - -Strawbridge peered in the direction of the fighting. He tiptoed -and moved about the deck, but all he could see was the haze of -semi-smokeless powder hanging over the city in the direction of the -_casa fuerte_. Presently the captain ejaculated: - -"_Caramba!_ To think that this fighting may put a fortune in your -pocket!" - -The drummer nodded. - -"It may do it. Damn it! I hope Saturnino wins!" - -Both men stared cityward. The volley-firing had almost died out. In its -place came a desultory snapping which gave Strawbridge the impression -of some person shooting the last few rats in a corn-bin. Now a rat -would be found behind a plank--_bang!_ Then two would start from a -covert--_bang! bang!_ These were the sounds which came from the city. -Single reports at irregular intervals. There was something dreadful and -cold-blooded about it. - -Suddenly Captain Vargas pointed. - -"_Mire!_ Yonder they come out of the _calle_! Look!" - -Sure enough, through the palms the drummer saw a line of soldiers march -out of a street into the _playa_. Captain Vargas turned and ran below -for a telescope. The drummer screwed up his eyes against the glare and -peered without breathing. He was trying to find out whether he was -thousands of dollars winner, or whether his side had lost. In the heat -the soldiers and the quay danced and shimmered. It was impossible to -tell whether they were Federals or rebels. However, the crowd fell into -a definite arrangement. A line of men were standing up against the low -adobe walls, while another line stood opposite to them in the _playa_. - -A kind of crawling went over Strawbridge. His heart began to beat -heavily, and he stared at the scene with fascinated eyes. At that -moment Captain Vargas hurried up on deck with the telescope. - -Strawbridge turned, almost jerked the instrument from the Venezuelan, -and fumbled at it with his good hand and the wrist of his wounded -arm. The captain helped him, and he peered through the glass. Views -of palms, of blank walls, of roofs and rolling clouds swung back and -forth, up and down; then abruptly appeared a line of men standing -against a wall. At the very first glimpse Strawbridge's whole ventral -cavity seemed to collapse. At the head of the unhappy column stood -Lieutenant Rosales. The drummer could make out even his sharp, dusty -features. A figure in a cassock stood in front of the lieutenant, -holding up a cross. A nervous spasm swung the lense out of line. When -he refocused it, Lieutenant Rosales had disappeared from the head of -the column, and an ordinary peon stood next. A solitary rifle report -reached the _Concepcion Inmaculada_. - -Strawbridge stopped looking and with a shaking hand handed the glass to -the captain. His mouth was so dry he could scarcely speak. - -"That ... that ... that was ... Rosales...." - -"Your friend?" - -Strawbridge nodded. - -"Then the insurgents have lost!" - -Strawbridge nodded again. Then he went to a coil of rope in the shade -of the mainsail and sat down. The slow reports came to him from the end -of the _playa_--_bang!_--_bang!_--_bang!_ Rosales ... Saturnino ... -Gumersindo ... the peons, the indomitable peons who had ridden out with -their lives in search of liberty. The banging would never, never cease. - -The horror, the pathos of it shook the drummer. He leaned forward -on his knees and let his head go limply in his folded arms. He did -not care whether he lived or died. From the end of the _playa_ the -slow reports assaulted his ears. After a while they stopped. There -was a singing in his ears as if he had taken quinine. Presently -Captain Vargas said, "They are coming down here." Strawbridge paid -no attention. All of his friends on that brave adventure were gone. -Gumersindo, with his strange philosophy, was no more, nor the mocking -Saturnino, nor the kindly priest. Captain Vargas was saying, "Remember, -_mi amigo_, you are my first mate, if any one should ask. You have been -on the _Concepcion Inmaculada_ all the time. You and I did not fly as -the other cowardly vessels did, because we felt that Justice, God, and -the federal forces must win." - -Strawbridge looked up at the captain and nodded mechanically. He could -feel that his face was putty-colored. The two men ceased talking and -watched the approach of the federal troops. - -As Strawbridge stared at the marching men he scrutinized the officer -at the head of the column, a graceful figure of medium height, with -slender waist and broad shoulders. This man had just executed a whole -column of insurgents, but he bore his bloody deed with a light heart. -He walked jauntily, with his visor tipped up and a hand resting -lightly on the hilt of his sword. - -The drummer tried to make out the features of this man upon whom his -own fortunes, even his own life, rested so heavily. He peered intently -through the downpour of sunshine. As he looked, a queer illusion took -place. The face of the strange officer seemed to melt and change into -the features of Coronel Saturnino. A kind of exaltation shone through -the dust on this handsome and familiar face. The drummer was shocked -at such a resemblance to his executed friend. Then, in the ranks, he -espied the black face of Gumersindo. Strawbridge thought he was going -mad. At that moment the officer at the head of the column whipped out -his sword and saluted the drummer on deck. - -"_Bravo_, Señor Strawbridge!" he shouted joyfully. "I have heard how -you stopped a panic and headed a cavalry charge against the ambuscade -on the roofs. _Mire, mis bravos!_ There stands the man who won the -battle of San Geronimo!" - -Under his violent revulsion, the drummer could scarcely breathe. He -gaped and stared. - -"What! What! Are those our troops! My God! I thought you were all -dead--executed. I thought I saw poor Rosales facing a firing-squad!" - -Saturnino lost his ebullience. - -"You mean at the end of the _playa_?" - -"Yes." - -"That was Rosales. When his forces gained the _casa fuerte_ by a most -gallant charge from the flank, he then tried to hold the fort against -my own troops." Saturnino's voice took a metallic tang: "I had to win -the stronghold by fighting half my own troops. That young whelp's -insurrection almost frustrated my plans." - -Strawbridge was dumbfounded. - -"You mean ... he deserted you in battle?... turned on you in the midst -of battle?" - -Saturnino waved a hand. - -"For a long time there has been a plot brewing in Canalejos, against -General Fombombo. It came to a head in Rosales...." He shrugged. -"_Cá!_ You can scarcely blame a _joven_ of spirit from playing the -game. If he had won...." Saturnino looked at the town and the wide -river. "_Caramba!_ he would have won a nucleus for a state of his own, -thrust in between federal and insurgent territory. _Cá!_ It was quite a -stroke. I think I will give the lad a military funeral. Such souls as -his have made the Latin race great." Just then the colonel's eyes fell -on the drummer's bandaged hand. - -"_Ola, mi amigo!_ I see you are wounded!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -The sheer human waste involved in the execution of Lieutenant Rosales -horrified Thomas Strawbridge, and filled him with a fundamental -discouragement toward all Venezuela. What fire and courage had been -wantonly squandered! Could nothing have been done to reclaim so -brilliant a daredevil? - -However, Strawbridge was the only one who brooded over Rosales's -untimely death. The captors of San Geronimo were very jovial and very -busy. Saturnino began a series of confiscations which worked with -machine-like efficiency. No doubt in his plans for the attack on San -Geronimo the colonel had worked out the details of this confiscation. -From some source he had obtained a list of the wealthy citizens in the -captured town, and now he began collecting what he called "voluntary -contributions to the insurgent cause." The colonel fostered the "will -to give," by explaining to the prospective contributor what would occur -in the event that the sum marked against his name was not forthcoming. - -He was forced to carry this threat into effect in only two instances. -One cocoa-broker he chained bareheaded in the plaza, and kept him there -all day with a pitcher of water just out of his reach. Strawbridge -got a glimpse of this wretch, but hurried away for fear he should -get himself into trouble by pushing the water closer. The other man, -Strawbridge simply heard about. He was shot. The plaza incident was -designed purely as a publicity measure, a means of teaching cheerful -and abundant donations to a worthy cause. Its value could hardly be -questioned. - -But the colonel's methods of suasion were not always physical. When he -occupied the big wireless telegraph which the federal authorities had -constructed at San Geronimo, he persuaded the federal officer to stay -at his post. - -The wireless plant was a little east of the city, on one of the long, -gentle knolls in the llanos. It was a quiet place, barring the whine of -the radio, and it was free from the scents left by the battle around -the _casa fuerte_. Strawbridge often walked out there. It was operated -by a dark, silent little man, an Austrian. All the wireless operators -in Venezuela were foreigners, because the system itself was new and -as yet there were no natives trained for the positions. The Federal -Government had given this Austrian the rank of lieutenant, and he had -been a regular officer in the Venezuelan Army. - -There was a humanity about Strawbridge which eventually drew the -operator out. One night the two were sitting outside the station, -looking up at the stars and cooling off after the day's heat. As they -conversed, presently the ex-lieutenant began a half-hearted defense -of his desertion. He said he would not hear to it at first, that he -insisted that Coronel Saturnino imprison him or stand him up before a -firing-squad, but the colonel scouted such an idea. He said that really -the colonel was the kindest-hearted man. He had shown the lieutenant -where he was wrong. - -"You are a wireless operator," said the colonel. "You should consider -yourself strictly a part of your machinery, equally efficient for -either side that owns the plant. It would do me no good to execute you -and replace you with another man. If the Federals ever recapture this -town, they will certainly feel the same way about it. You are as much a -part of your plant as the aërials overhead." - -The little Austrian sat staring up at the aërials swung high against -the stars. - -"I am just as much a part of this plant as those aërials," he repeated -gloomily. "They receive messages from anywhere, and transmit them -correctly--to any one." - -It rather disgusted the drummer. - -"Even the aërials have a static," he said, "which sometimes interferes -with _their_ transmission. I suppose _you_ have no static." - -The dark little man seemed disturbed by this, but merely repeated his -formula. Heaven knows with what more casuistry Coronel Saturnino had -beguiled him. To Strawbridge there was something smudged and pitiful, -rather than treacherous, about the little operator. - -In all these functionings of warlike ethics, Strawbridge yielded a -rather shocked acquiescence to the logic of the situation. In only -one instance did he become personally involved, and that was when a -revolutionary squad went aboard the _Concepcion Inmaculada_. - -It was a typical Latin-American scene on the schooner's deck, with -the sun boiling pitch out of her strakes and a squad of short, brown, -empty-faced riflemen standing in the heat, listening as Saturnino, -Strawbridge, and Captain Vargas threshed out the rights of the matter. - -At Captain Vargas's request, Strawbridge explained to Saturnino -that he, Captain Vargas, had remained at San Geronimo during the -revolutionary attack, upon the drummer's assurance that he and his -schooner would receive complete justice at the hands of the insurgents. - -Saturnino assented to this, with the utmost graciousness. - -The captain himself then added that he did not fly with the other -cowardly schooner-owners because he confided then, as he confided now, -in the integrity of the _revolutionistas_, the nobility of their cause, -and the spotless characters of their leaders. - -Saturnino bowed deeply over the tar-streaked deck, and assured Captain -Vargas that his confidence honored his heart as his judgment honored -his intellect. - -The captain then asked for assistance in getting his tonka-beans -and balata aboard the _Concepcion Inmaculada_, that he might -sail and spread abroad tidings of the justice and equity of the -_revolutionistas_--which no doubt would greatly aid their cause. - -The colonel agreed to this, heartily, but suggested that, since all -the barter on the wharf had become insurgent property by force of -capture, the insurgents now stood in the shoes of the original owners -of the property, and that he, Coronel Saturnino, should be paid for the -freight. - -At this Vargas became thoughtful, and said that he had already paid -the owner for the goods. When the colonel asked him for a receipt, -the skipper made some vague excuse about the receipt not having been -delivered, but he assured the colonel that payment had been made. - -Saturnino said he did not doubt this; he said if he were acting for -himself he would deliver the freight at once and allow Captain Vargas -to sail, but he was not acting for himself. No, every transaction -he performed had to be accounted for with the strictest business -formality, to President Fombombo, in order that every citizen might be -treated with an exact and impartial justice. Therefore _el capitan_ -would excuse the technicality, but he would have to pay for his -tonka-beans and rubber again, in order that he, Saturnino, might have a -proper record of the deal. Then the captain could file a claim, if he -wished, with the insurgent government, against the man who originally -took the money, and thus he would infallibly get it back. - -Captain Vargas's good-humored face immediately became serious, but -eventually the three men went below into the skipper's cabin, and there -Vargas opened a strong-box and turned over to Saturnino a considerable -quantity of American gold pieces, and several ounces of raw gold which -the skipper had traded for at the mouth of the Caroni River. When the -soldiers had lugged the box of money up on deck, Captain Vargas's -cheerfulness returned, and he requested that soldiers be furnished to -lade the schooner with the beans and rubber on the wharf. - -The colonel seemed surprised. - -"On the wharf?" - -"_Seguramente_, señor!" exclaimed the skipper, also surprised. "That -was the cargo consigned to me." - -"But, señor," demurred the colonel, "you cannot expect the -revolutionary government of Rio Negro to be bound and crippled by the -contracts of its enemies! We should soon land in a pretty impasse." - -"But you sold me the balata on the wharf, yourself!" - -"_Cá!_ No. Your tonka-beans and balata will be delivered in their -proper turn. Here, I will give you a receipt for the money. Now, this -balata, we are going to ship to Rio...." - -Coronel Saturnino was drawing forth a receipt-book, to write Captain -Vargas a receipt, when the injured sailor forgot caution and broke -into all manner of Spanish abuse. He declared the _revolutionistas_ -were thieves, cut-throats, and rascals, exactly what he had heard and -believed all the time. He shouted that Saturnino might keep the rubber, -tonka-beans, and gold, that he was going to sail away and never cruise -up the accursed Orinoco again! - -Strawbridge, too, was incensed at the barefaced robbery. He declared -that such methods were bad business, that Saturnino would ruin all -possible commerce in Rio Negro, that the country's reputation was worth -more than a cargo of balata. - -"It's just like one of our great American poets says, colonel," cried -Strawbridge, earnestly. "You must recall the famous poem entitled, -'Has It Ever Struck You?' Everybody knows the lines. I'll bet they are -pasted up in half the offices in America. Now listen to this. The poet -says: - - - "All of us know that Money talks throughout our glorious nation, - But Money whispers low compared to business reputation. - For men will talk this wide world o'er; take this under advisement. - To have them talking for you is the wisest advertisement. - Pull off no slick nor crooked deal, for pennies or for dollars. - God! think of all the trade you'll lose if just one sucker hollers!" - - -For some reason these admirable verses seemed to irritate Coronel -Saturnino more than all the abuse shouted by Captain Vargas. He turned -sharply on Strawbridge. - -"Señor," he snapped, "there is a difference between a stupid business -conducted in the midst of profound peace and a band of men struggling -for life in the midst of war. In peace one can look to the future, but -in war we must seize on the present. That barter on the dock represents -so much available capital for our insurgent government. Do you imagine -I am going to divide it with a private individual when the salvation of -our whole country hangs in the balance?" - -Captain Vargas reiterated his intention of sailing away without more -ado, down the river, but Coronel Saturnino then informed him that the -insurgent government would be forced to conscript the _Concepcion -Inmaculada_ for the purpose of freighting barter to Rio. - -Oaths, arguments, and prayers availed nothing with the colonel. The -_Concepcion Inmaculada_ would be employed by the provisional government -until hostilities ceased. - -As Strawbridge returned up the _playa_ with the colonel, that officer's -good humor returned. He began smiling again, a little ironically. - -"Now, this matter of the _Concepcion Inmaculada_.... If our revolution -wins, Señor Strawbridge, I shall be accounted in history as a great -financier; if we lose, I shall be known as a thief and a murderer. -In your own country, señor, have you ever discovered any difference -between thieves and financiers, except that the one loses and the one -succeeds?" - -On the third day a part of the insurgent cavalry set out for Canalejos. -San Geronimo was now "consolidated." It belonged inside the red line on -the map in General Fombombo's study. Strawbridge decided he would go -back with the squadron. - -During these three days the drummer's wounded hand had been steadily -growing worse. Coronel Saturnino tried to persuade the American to -remain in San Geronimo until his wound healed, but Strawbridge declared -he had important business with General Fombombo. He said he was afraid -that the capture of so many federal rifles would ruin his trade with -the general. - -Saturnino assured him the acquisition of the rifles in the _casa -fuerte_ would not influence the general in the slightest degree. But -Strawbridge was far from convinced. He had seen Saturnino's word tested -often enough to doubt it. He knew the colonel's Latin penchant for a -pleasant falsehood rather than an unpleasant truth. - -But behind his anxiety about the rifles, Strawbridge was homesick for -Canalejos. He really wanted to see the señora, to sit with her on the -piazza in the evenings, and hear her play the piano. Thoughts of her -came to him with an ineffable charm and sweetness. - -So on the third day he set out with the troops, with a wounded hand -and with the vision of a slender music-making figure in a nun's garb, -moving before him like a mirage over a desert. - -The drummer had not traversed twelve kilometers before his wound took -a wicked turn. With the jolting of his horse the aching increased, -and the arm swelled clear up to his shoulder. He grew feverish, then -somehow, in the furnace of the llanos, he imagined that he was in the -cavalry charge again. He suddenly began spurring his horse and waving -an imaginary carbine at a roof full of Federals. Then the Federals -seemed to capture him. He struggled terrifically, but the Federals -pinioned him and were going to execute him, just as Rosales had been -executed. - -Thereafter Strawbridge's delirium was broken by intervals of clarity. -Several times he became rational, to find himself bound fast to a -litter which was swung between two mules. Then he would be about to be -executed again. - -For a long time, when the drummer emerged into an interval of clear -thinking, he found himself in the furnace of sunshine on the llanos; an -eternity or two later he regained consciousness shuddering with cold, -and saw the sky above him filled with stars. The squadron had gone on -ahead, leaving the sick man with Father Benicio, Gumersindo, and the -pack-mules. - -On the morning of the second day, Strawbridge thought he heard the -priest say they would soon be at home. The next thing the drummer knew -he lay in a great bed, with cold packs on his hand and arm and all over -him. And he saw what to him was the most beautiful face in the world, -looking down at him, weeping silently. The American had barely the -strength to extend his good hand. - -"Señora ..." he whispered. - -The woman suddenly sobbed aloud. - -"Oh, señor, they have told me what a hero you were!" - -Then the señora suddenly flickered out again. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -Strawbridge could understand only snatches of Benavente's satire which -the señora was reading. When the Spanish girl read, she reverted to the -soft Castilian pronunciation of her childhood, and Strawbridge's ear -was accustomed to the hard colonial accent of South America. - -Benavente has a leaning toward the theme of unfaithful wives, and the -comedy which the señora had chosen to read was of this type. - -As the reading progressed, the mood of the satire, the quirks and -turns of Benavente's wit played over the girl's face as if from some -delicate, changing illumination, as indeed it was. Presently, in the -sheer pleasure of watching her, the sick man gave up the effort to -follow the text. He had never before observed such a radiance about -her, such a fine, ardent life in her. The drummer's nationality evoked -the thought that some artist ought to paint Dolores sitting thus -reading. It was his American instinct to commercialize the moment, not -for its monetary value but for its pleasure value. He was under the -abiding American delusion that pleasures are somehow bottleable; that -a pleasure can be commanded to stand still in the heavens, somewhat -after the fashion of Joshua's sun. It is the command of these American -Joshuas which has inflicted on the world the phonograph, the kodak, the -college annual, place-card collections, and the family album. - -As the drummer studied the señora's face, he observed, when she -smiled, a little dimple in her left cheek. Somehow this tiny discovery -stirred the sick man in a subtle way. With a feeling of peculiar -intimacy he watched it come and go. It seemed to advertise, ever so -delicately, veiled and exquisite reserves in the nunnish figure. It -amazed him that he had not seen, until just now, how lovely the señora -was. It seemed as if beauty had been spilled over her. - -He lay warming himself in this miracle, when the girl looked up, -studied his face a moment, then accused playfully: - -"_Cá!_ señor, you are not listening to a word I read. What are your -thoughts?" - -The sick man was taken aback when he was thus brought to a realization -of the vague compound of admiration, sensuous longing, and wistfulness -which moved his heart, for the wife of another man. He moistened his -lips to say something, when the señora assisted him: - -"I dare say you are lying there thinking about your business." - -The drummer accepted the suggestion: - -"Perhaps I was." - -"You mustn't worry about it." - -At this negative suggestion, Strawbridge did begin to worry: - -"I think I have a right to, señora, when my trip down to San Geronimo -spoiled the very thing I went after." - -"How is that?" - -The sick man tossed his head on his pillow. - -"Oh, you know I wanted to sell the general rifles. Well ... I helped -him capture all he can use ... ruined my own sale." The salesman -laughed a little, but he was not amused. - -The girl did not smile. - -"Has your trade really fallen through, after all you've done?" - -"Sure! A sale can slip away from you just so easy." He stared at the -ceiling, with hollow, troubled eyes. - -With a faint, tender smile, the girl looked at her patient. - -"Tell me, Tomas: why do you place such great stress on selling, -selling, selling?" - -He looked at her, weakly surprised. - -"Why, that's my job!" - -"Yes, I know, but you will sell to some one else if not to the general." - -"But the idea is not to miss a sale; to get everybody; to do a big -business." - -The señora laughed outright but kindlily. - -"Yes, but what is the object of your big business, that you work at it -with such fury? You already make the money you need." - -"I didn't know I worked at it with such fury." - -"_Cá!_ You do!" - -The drummer pondered a moment. - -"Well, a man just naturally wants a big business, and, besides, my old -man expects it. I'll lose my job if I don't." - -"_Pues_, your 'old man,' then: why does he want a big business? What -does he mean finally to do with it?" - -Strawbridge, with a sick man's suggestibility, stopped fretting about -his own sale and lay pondering gently what his old man meant to do with -his business. He could not imagine his old man _doing_ anything with -his business except running it, expanding it, beating down competitors -with it. Just then he recalled an explanation which is current with -every American, and which finds expression in every American paper and -magazine, so he repeated it: - -"Why, business is a game with my old man, señora; he never will stop, -because that's his game. He takes a pride in seeing how big a business -he can develop, just as he tries to make a low golf score. Business is -the American game." - -The señora smiled at such naïveté. She might not have smiled had she -known that Strawbridge had sounded for her the depth of American -popular philosophy on the point; but, not knowing that, she put it down -to the drummer's general childishness. - -"Tomas," she said gently, "do you really think that a game, any game, -is the whole of a man's life? Would you be willing, Tomas, to spend the -whole of your life playing a game?" - -"That's what everybody believes in America, señora." - -"Surely Americans must be wrong!" - -"I don't know. What do you think?" - -"I have wondered. You are the only American I have ever known, Tomas, -and you were so big and strong and restless, I could not help saying to -myself, 'Why is he so restless? He is not poor; any one can see that. -What does he mean to do with his fortune that he rushes so to get?'" -The señora quoted her thoughts pensively, and then added, "Still, I -suppose I do know." - -"Why, why?" blurted out the drummer, greatly surprised. - -"You wish to make your fortune equal to that of some wealthy girl's." - -"A wealthy girl's...." The drummer looked at the Spanish girl quite -blankly, then, as her implication penetrated him, he was moved to a -somewhat abrupt denial: - -"No, señora, no girls for mine ... at least not yet." He shifted his -bulk a trifle and lay looking at her defensively; then he saw where -her logic had led her. "Why, the idea! We were talking about why all -Americans work so, and you think they work because they want to get -married. What an idea!" - -"But doesn't that explain a great many, señor?" - -"Mighty few business fellows. When we are boys we have our sweethearts, -of course, but when we get out into business, women sort of drop out -of our lives for eight or ten years. We chase 'em a little, but not -much. Later, when our business justifies it, we buy us a motor, a -bungalow, and a girl,--I mean, we pick out a girl and marry her,--but -getting married is just a symptom that a man is getting on in his -business; it's not the aim of his business, at all. The business clicks -away just the same, whether he marries or not." - -It would be difficult to say just how much the señora was moved at -this reversal of ordinary human motives. She looked at the drummer for -several moments, and finally asked in an odd voice: - -"How do you decide you have the reached a position to marry, Señor -Tomas?" - -"Oh, that depends on your ideals. When I was a kid I thought fifteen a -week and a flivver would do. As I got older my ideals went up, and now -I've got to have ten thousand a year and a twelve-cylinder." - -"And you have no particular girl in view?" - -The drummer laughed weakly. - -"When you've got ten thousand a year, you don't have to have any -particular girl in view. You've got to keep out of view, or some -flapper 'll land you." - -The señora shook her head. - -"I don't understand it, Tomas," she said gently. "It seems to me you -deserve something finer than what you say. It's so ... like a machine." -She flushed faintly, and arose, saying that she must make the sick man -some broth. - -"You'll be back soon, señora?" he asked anxiously. - -She smiled at him, picked up a salver from a table, and went out. - -With the departure of the señora, the sense of pleasure which had -enveloped Strawbridge also vanished. It gave him the same feeling of -loss that he experienced at times when he stepped out of the glow and -romance of a theater, into a dull, prosaic street. Still, after all, it -was in dull, prosaic streets that money was made and ambitious young -fellows gained headway. A query trickled into the drummer's mind. He -wondered if it would be possible, if it were in the scope of things -to take some of the glow and romance of the theater out into life, to -keep it there, always to have this dear warmth in his heart ... if -the _señora_.... A quiver went through the drummer at the direction -in which his musing had led him. He came to a sudden stop, deserted -the theater which his fancy had built, and walked slowly out into the -prosaic street once more. - - -When his door opened again, Strawbridge saw, to his disgust, that it -was the _griffe_ girl who had brought him his broth. The girl had had -a serious part in nursing Strawbridge over his wound and the solar -fever which exposure in the campaign had caused. This had bred in her -considerable authority. So now, as she entered, she narrowed her black -eyes, nodded firmly at her patient, and said, "You are to drink this, -señor." - -The salesman was outraged that the maid should have come instead of the -mistress. He turned on his side away from her. - -"Don't want any." - -"But the señora said you were to drink it." - -"Don't believe it's time." - -"You can look at your watch, if it hasn't stopped running. You never -remember to wind it. Have you wound it this morning?" - -The drummer fumbled under his pillow for the watch. It was still -running, and stood at eleven minutes after his broth-time. He wound -it with the sensitive fingers of the sick. As he did so, he stared -ill-temperedly through the window and observed a number of banners -waving in the plaza. He broke out: - -"Look here! Are they going to have another damn fiesta? What's it for? -Good Lord! the time they waste on fiestas!" - -At this outbreak the _griffe_ girl stared at him, then wrinkled her -freckled snub nose, and went off into such a gust of light-headed -giggling that Strawbridge was irritated anew. - -"What the hell you whinnying like that for?" - -The maid caught up the corner of her apron and stuffed it into her -mouth as a mirth-extinguisher. The American received the tray on the -side of his bed, glaring at the girl, who plainly was about to burst -out laughing again. A sudden plan came to him. - -"I'm going to get up," he announced. - -The maid was horrified. - -"Oh, señor, you are not!" - -"Oh, señorita, I am!" - -"But you mustn't. It'll make you worse!" - -"I'm all right. I feel all right. I'm going to get up, so get out of -here!" He began tumbling his big body around under the sheets. - -The _griffe_ girl became desperate. - -"But, señor, the señora has not said so; the doctor has not said so; -nobody has given you permission...." She was trying to shoo him back -under the cover with her hands. - -"Are you going to get out or not?" - -"Señor, you must not get up!" - -"Oh, all right! Stick around and get an eyeful...." He began heaving -himself up, tumbling back the sheet. - -The _griffe_ girl started backing out of the room. She resisted him -morally to the last ditch, motioning him back into bed, but being -gradually expelled as larger and larger segments of his pink pajamas -came into view. The queer part was that in Strawbridge's extreme -weakness the _griffe_ girl had assisted one of the guards in the -drummer's necessities; now she was whisked out of the room by the sight -of his pajamas. Such is the power of matter over mind. - - -Strawbridge made a sorry mess of getting his clothes on, until Pambo, -the guard who had served him during his illness, came in--sent, -no doubt, by the _griffe_ girl--and helped. Pambo was a pleasant -little fellow, and instead of discouraging the invalid's effort he -congratulated him on his improvement, and suggested a walk down into -the plaza. - -After the dressing, the two men left the palace and moved very slowly -through the sunshine to a seat in the plaza. The guard placed the -invalid's chair in the deep shade of a _mamone_ tree, then, promising -to return in half an hour, went back to his duties. - -Already a crowd of idlers were gathered in the plaza, watching the -preparations for the fête. The invalid sat in the color and stir, with -that feeling of soft, weak pleasure that comes to a man after the -pains of the sick-bed have vanished. All things were very grateful to -him--the sunshine, the movement of the crowd, the calls of the venders, -the heroic statue of General Fombombo offering on a scroll to the State -of Rio Negro, Liberty, Fraternity, Equality. - -Presently the firemen's band in red coats and blue trousers began -gathering, with their instruments. Pleasure-seekers grew thicker, and -commenced renting chairs and placing them around a band stand which was -shaped like a huge conch-shell. Girls in mantillas began with their -fans to conduct discreet flirtations. Certain bolder women moved among -the crowd, waiting for some one to accost them. Two or three priests -from the cathedral mingled with their flock. One father moved about -with his eyes riveted on a little Bible, having selected this strange -place for his religious meditations. - -A number of persons saluted the drummer, which rather surprised him, -for the upper-class Venezuelans are usually reserved toward foreigners. -Strawbridge was thinking over his sudden popularity, with the mildly -amused superiority of a North American, when he saw approaching him -a negro in a white linen suit. As this figure came nearer, the sick -man recognized Gumersindo in gala attire. The negro bowed deeply, -congratulated Strawbridge on his early convalescence, then took a copy -of "El Correo del Rio Negro" from his pocket and pressed it upon his -friend. - -"Have you read my description of the battle of San Geronimo, _mi caro -señor_?" he asked warmly. "_Caramba!_ I do not say I have excelled, but -Father Benicio, a man of excellent judgment, assures me these pages--" -he tapped the paper--"will go down to posterity as one of the great -battle descriptions of history. You will find your own name mentioned, -_mi amigo_. I have taken the liberty of comparing you to the Swiss -Guard at Versailles and the English regiment at Carabobo--a wounded -lion, señor, crouched before the shield of Rio Negro!" - -All this was uttered in a tone of impassioned eloquence, and now the -black editor astonished Strawbridge by suddenly wringing his hand and -hurrying away, leaving the paper with the invalid. - -The drummer was amused at this emotion in Gumersindo, which he did not -understand, but his sickness had brought with it a certain pensiveness, -and he sat pondering on the springs of Gumersindo's enthusiasm. To -write a history that would be handed down to posterity! What was the -use of it? The American wondered what he would like to hand down to -posterity, and he thought of life-insurance. Strawbridge glanced -through his "Correo." Gumersindo had written six columns of closely -printed matter. The American folded the paper and laid it across his -lap. - -The crowd in the plaza grew more interesting. Government dignitaries, -merchants, and professional men began to arrive. Men collected in knots -and conversed with excited gestures. Presently a great cheering went -up, and Strawbridge saw General Fombombo traversing the plaza, in the -presidential motor. At his side sat the peon girl Madruja. She held up -her chin like a queen, and the line of her olive throat against her -furs might have been a stroke of Raphael. Even in the brief glimpse -of their passage, Strawbridge got an impression that the general was -fondling her hand. - -The outrage set up in the sick man's head vague fancies of liberating -Dolores. He thought of divorce. The Spanish girl ought to get a -divorce. She had every provocation. But of course there were no -divorces in Roman Catholic Rio Negro. - -The sound of a chair being dragged close to his own caused Strawbridge -to glance around. He saw Lubito smiling and settling a chair in the -turf by his side. On the other side of Lubito, Esteban was unfolding -another chair. The peon youth seemed thinner and more care-worn than on -the night when he had attacked General Fombombo. - -The bull-fighter was very cordial. - -"_Caramba!_ I'm glad to see you alive, señor! I read in the paper how -badly you were wounded, and what a hero you were." At the drummer's -demurring gesture, he persisted with renewed force: "Oh, we know all -about it. I said to Esteban, 'You called Señor Tomas a _cobarde_ -because he did not choose to assist you that night in the _palacio_. -Nothing could be farther from the truth.'" - -The peon youth stopped his steady stare into the plaza, to ask: - -"But why did he turn against me?" - -Lubito shrugged and made a gesture. - -"How should I know? Am I as deep as the sea? Perhaps to save you. Had -he not used his influence on _el Presidente_, no doubt you would have -been rotting to-day in La Fortuna; but instead he had you turned out, -and here you are, as free as a bird." - -"I don't understand why he turned against me in a fight," repeated the -peon, doggedly. - -"_Caramba!_ If you had a head to understand that, Esteban, you would -not need to sit here gnawing your fingers now. I am far brighter than -you, Esteban, but this Señor Strawbridge is a dark man to me. He moves -in his own way, Esteban. He is like a cayman in the Orinoco; no man can -tell when or where or at what he strikes." - -The drummer followed this panegyric a little uncomfortably. - -"Look here," he inquired: "how did I get such a swell reputation for -double-crossing?" - -"How! _Caramba!_ Did you not despatch poor Lieutenant Rosales to his -death at the _casa fuerte_ in San Geronimo? He would have failed, but -you gave him the strength to go on--but how far?" The bull-fighter held -up a stubby forefinger and whispered an answer to his question: "Just -as far as you pleased that he should go--and then he fell. But you: did -any blame attach to you? None at all. You had a wealthy ship-owner sail -up the Orinoco and bribe the insurgents in your behalf. Oh, we have -heard everything, not through this paper, but--you know--from mouth to -mouth. _Caramba!_ this ship-owner poured out gold for you--box after -box. It was easy enough to see whose gold it was!" - -"Whose?" cried Strawbridge, quite amazed at so grotesque a -misinterpretation of the facts. - -"Whose! Whose! _Diantre_, Esteban! such a man! Why, señor, whose should -it be but your own! Would any ordinary sailor have so much gold to -fling about? No, it was your own gold, and only He who looks down upon -the doings of men--only He knows how many other ways you are reaching -out, raking this poor country of Rio Negro into your power. You had -poor Rosales killed; he would have been a rival of yours one day, for -he had the pride of Satan. You have a warm friend in Señor Tolliver, -and yet he has been the enemy of all _revolutionistas_ for years. You -have twisted _el Presidente_ around your finger, and--" Lubito paused -and winked delicately--"and I hear that _la señora_ is no bitter enemy -of yours, either! _Caramba!_ What a man!" - -Strawbridge flushed and dropped his amused look. - -"Say, just leave the señora out of this, will you?" - -"How?" - -"She is a lovely girl in the most painful position. I have done nothing -more than any gentleman would do if he had a spark of manhood." - -Lubito looked at the American rather blankly. - -"_Seguramente_, señor, any _caballero_ would do what you have done ... -if he had a spark of manhood. _Seguramente!_ I ... I hope you will -allow a friend to ... to.... _Cá!_ ... to congratulate you, señor." - -This equivocal sentence brought the conversation to an impasse. The -drummer was on the verge of taking offense at the innuendo, when -Esteban interrupted in a very miserable voice: - -"Señor Strawbridge, you are a wise man. Tell me what I can do to regain -Madruja." - -The drummer was touched at the peon's unashamed desolation. - -"Esteban," he said seriously, "I don't know what you can do. I have -been thinking over your very question--in a general way. There are no -courts to separate her from ... from him. There is no public opinion to -force him to give her up. There is no--" - -"But, señor," interrupted the peon, "she--_mi Madruja adorata_--is not -with _el Presidente_ any more!" - -Strawbridge leaned forward and peered around the bull-fighter at the -peon. - -"Not with him any more? What do you mean, Esteban?" - -The youth made a desperate gesture. - -"May the lightning strike God, but he has flung her out into the -streets, señor!" - -Strawbridge stared. - -"Are you crazy, Esteban? I saw Madruja and the general drive past in a -motor, not ten minutes ago!" - -Lubito interrupted: - -"No, you did not, señor. That was another girl he has picked up. -Madruja is ... well, to speak plainly ... Madruja is growing heavy -after the manner of women, and really, now--" the bull-fighter shrugged -and opened a hand--"really, now, what could _el Presidente_ do but -turn her out?" He looked from one of his friends to the other and said -intimately, "Now, really.... I dare say we have all been fathers at one -time or another.... What else could he have done?" - -Strawbridge did not hear this observation. He sat perfectly still in -his chair, and said in a shocked tone: - -"He really did!" - -Lubito answered again: - -"_Ciertamente_, señor; but any one could have foretold that. Do you -not recall, Esteban, I told you that in advance? Do you not recall my -saying, 'Esteban, _mi bravo_, cheer up. Presently _el Presidente_ will -grow weary of your Madruja, and you will have her back'?" - -The drummer sat pondering the facts, in a benumbed manner. Somehow this -Madruja affair touched him painfully. Presently he looked at Esteban -and asked: - -"Well, ... did you get her back! Do you want her back?" - -Lubito replied for his friend: - -"_Diablo!_ no, he didn't get her back! _El Presidente_ has a way with -women. The poor girl is completely mad. She lives alone in a big house, -and weeps night and day. She says the general will come back to her as -soon as he grows weary of this new mistress. 'But, Madruja,' I argued -with her, 'he will always have a new mistress! He always has had. Now -take back poor Esteban. Look at him. See how he loves you. Your poor -Esteban!' But she curls up her pretty mouth. 'Esteban! Esteban!' she -says. 'Stupid as a donkey, dull as an old hound's tooth! Do you think -I would take a poor lout of a peon in this house which _el Presidente_ -has given me?' - -"'_Pues_,' I said, for I always did admire her, '_Pues_, take me!' She -gave me a straight look, for we were talking to her through the bars -of her window. 'You! What do you know, Señor Lubito, about the grand -super-civilization of the future republic of Rio Negro? Do you know -how to make all these wide sandy llanos bloom and bear fruit! Your -sword has never carved an empire--nothing but bulls!'" The bull-fighter -looked at the drummer in a puzzled fashion, shrugged, and finally -added, "She is utterly mad." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -Strawbridge did not know why the general's second infidelity stirred -him so deeply. For some reason it sent him hurrying weakly back, -through the heat, to the palace. What he meant to do when he got there, -what he could do, he did not know. - -The drummer reached the side door almost exhausted and rang the bell. -He waited several minutes in the intense heat of the sunshine. At last -the door was opened by the _griffe_ girl. She gave just one glance, -then swooped on him, caught him about the waist, and helped him inside. - -"_Caramba!_ Señor Tomas, you are as white as a sheet! You are about to -fall! You must go to bed at once. I told you--" - -"Where is your mistress?" panted the drummer. - -The girl was dictatorial. - -"_Cá!_ What do you want with the señora? I tell you to go to bed! I -told you never to...." - -The maid's question helped temper Strawbridge's impulse. After all, -what did he want with the señora! What did he mean to say to her! There -was nothing to say, much less to do. He began to realize how empty his -impulse was of any possible action. - -"What do you want with her?" repeated the maid, holding him up and -leading him inside. - -The drummer fumbled for an answer, and then explained lamely that they -were reading a play together. - -The freckled maid looked up at him, amazed. - -"A play! _Caramba!_ it must be a wonderful play!" - -"Look here," frowned the American, recovering his dignity, "can't you -answer a simple question without making remarks?" - -"_Pues_, was I making remarks? You told me you were reading a play!" - -"Yes, you do make remarks! Damn it! you talk all the time! If you've -got to chatter like that, beat it!" - -She would not let go her patient, for fear he might really fall and -hurt himself, but she was offended. - -"_Seguramente!_" she snapped. "If I ever get you in bed, trust me, -I'll never lift another finger to get you out! _Caramba!_ after all -I've done!" She seemed about to cry. "As for the señora, she is in -the music-room, and when you rush in through this heat, all white and -trembly, to read a play, I think you are crazy; that's what I think!" - -"Well, damn what you think! Here, let go; I can walk without you!" He -shook himself loose and walked on in weak irascibility. - -The girl stood looking after him with angry tears in her eyes and much -anxiety for his welfare as he passed through the transverse corridor -and turned down the main hallway. - -He moved more and more slowly past the old doors which lined the -corridor. There were no guards in the passage; they had been drawn -away, no doubt, by the fiesta. The palace seemed rather empty without -them. He was thinking of this when the door of the music-room opened -and a man stepped into the hallway. He stood holding the door ajar and -looking back into the room. The drummer was surprised to see that it -was Coronel Saturnino. The salesman had thought the colonel was in San -Geronimo, but no doubt he had come to Canalejos for the fiesta. The -expression on the officer's face struck Strawbridge. For once his look -of satire had vanished, and it left exposed what must have been the -real Saturnino beneath all his quips and mockeries. He was speaking -through the door, in a low tone: - -"When a man has only one desire in life, señora, would he not be a fool -to sacrifice that! Why should he sacrifice it! Shall his one brief -glimpse of existence be entirely empty?" - -There came a gasp from the music-room, and Strawbridge caught the -phrase, "But, Pancho, that is sacrilegious!" - -"Sacrilegious!" echoed the officer, in a sudden passion. "Sacrilegious! -A word to trap fools with! To give up the very heart of this life, -here, expecting another which will never come.... Dolores, can you -imagine the immeasurable unconcern with which Nature views us! And -then expect me to give up the very essence of my little glimpse of -existence, for fear, forsooth, that the hand that made me will not -precisely approve my squirmings toward the ends for which He framed me! -Puh! it's too absurd!" With pallid face he stood looking through the -doorway; then came a return of some of his old pococurantism: "Well, -señora, I leave you now, but I will come back one day, you might say as -a missionary, to convert you to a happier view of life and the Deity. -Until then, _adios_." He bowed gracefully and turned up the passage -toward the front of the palace. - -With considerable surprise, and also a certain questioning, the -American watched the colonel go. The officer evidently had concluded -a tête-à-tête with the señora which was unsatisfactory to him. -Strawbridge was secretly glad of this; he had always been glad that -Saturnino was persona non grata with the señora. - -But what set up a questioning in the drummer were the tones of the -man and the woman, and the nickname, "Pancho," which the señora had -used. This diminutive and just such overtones the drummer recalled -hearing through the hedge as he stood in the plaza outside the -cathedral garden. The idea that those quarreling lovers in the garden -had been Saturnino and Dolores came to him with a shock. All along, -had Saturnino been a suitor for the señora's favors? Was the officer -attempting intimacies with the wife of his employer and general? -Such duplicity filled the American with disdain. He was shocked at -Saturnino. Then, as he stood thinking about it, he asked himself why -he should be shocked. The colonel was no Anglo-Saxon, with a restraint -cultivated by long generations of controlled ancestors. He was a Latin, -a Venezuelan. - -The door of the music-room was still ajar when Strawbridge reached -the entrance. He had meant to express, in a roundabout way, his deep -moral approval of what the señora had just done, but what he saw in the -music-room put completely out of his head any sentiment he meant to -utter. - -The señora half knelt before the window-seat, with her head in her -outstretched arms and her rosary clutched in her fingers. As a sharp -accent in the picture was her hair. Her nun's cap had fallen off and -revealed a great jet corona wound about her head in a complexity of -cables. The glint and sheen of the light from the window fell over this -luxuriant coiffure, and the slender white nape of her neck curved up -into it. The loveliness of it clutched at something in the drummer's -chest as if with physical fingers. - -At his continued gaze the girl stirred, looked about, saw him, and made -a little defensive movement toward her nun's bonnet. - -The American protested involuntarily: - -"For God's sake, señora, don't hide it! What makes you want to hide -your hair?" - -Her eyes showed she had been crying, but such an outbreak of admiration -moved her to a brief smile; immediately she was grave again. - -"It is a vow I made for my sister, señor." - -"A vow to what?" - -"To Saint Teresa." - -"To a saint! Are you hiding your lovely hair just to keep a vow to a -saint?" - -"_Sí_, señor." - -"Well, I declare! think of that! Wait, don't put it back on right -now...." - -Nevertheless she replaced the bonnet, smiling faintly at his protesting -face. Then she became concerned about him. - -"I didn't know you were out of bed. You ought not to be, Señor Tomas. -You look quite worn out. Come over here, on this couch by the window." - -She was swiftly becoming herself again, pleasant, softly gracious, -and remote. She crossed the room, took his arm, and helped him to the -wicker couch she had indicated. Her mere presence and touch wove a deep -comfort about the sick man. Whatever were her relations with Saturnino, -they faded into a small matter in the atmosphere of her delicate charm. -Strawbridge leaned back against the end of the couch, looking at her. - -"What were you crying about when I came in, señora?" he asked simply. - -She looked at him with dark eyes that appeared slightly unfocused. - -"I would rather not tell you, Señor Tomas." - -"You might tell me, señora. I'm a mighty good friend of yours." - -The girl sighed with some comfort of her own. - -"Yes, you are. You are so ... nice. But you don't want to be my -confessor, do you, Señor Tomas?" - -"I wish I could be. Who is your confessor, señora?" - -"Father Benicio." - -"Sure! it would naturally be him." - -She noted his tone, with surprise and a delicate amusement in her face. - -"You seem really aggrieved. Do you want to be a priest?" - -"I wish I could sit in a little box with you and hear you talk what is -really in your heart, señora. I wish I could find out what is in your -heart. I think it must be a pure and lovely place, señora, like one of -those chapels in the cathedral, with an alabaster cross and a soft rug -to kneel and pray on." - -She seemed almost startled. - -"Oh, no, Señor Tomas," she denied hurriedly, "it is not like that, at -all. Holy Mary! I wish it were!" - -"But it is!" affirmed Strawbridge, warmly. "Why, señora, the very first -morning I saw you going to chapel I thought--" - -The Spanish girl arose abruptly. - -"Listen," she interrupted. "Don't talk to me of chapels and crosses and -souls!" She stood looking down on him, with tragic eyes. "I am not a -person who should speak of such things. I ... I...." - -The American looked at her in dismay. He thought of Saturnino. - -"Why ... what do you mean?" he asked in a lower tone. - -She studied him a moment longer. - -"I was a girl when I came here to Venezuela, Señor Tomas, a little girl -of sixteen, just out of a convent; and then ... I was dropped in a -place like this!" She made a quick gesture, spreading her hands as if -to fling something from her fingers. - -A rush of pity caught the sick man. - -"Whatever made you come here?" he questioned gruffly, then frowned and -cleared his throat. - -The two understood each other with remarkable economy of words. The -girl answered the implications of his question: - -"Because he was rich! He had millions of pesetas, millions. My parents -said it was a wonderful opportunity, and I--" she touched her breast -sharply--"why, I knew nothing of life or love or marriage! They said -he was a wealthy Venezuelan who owned a territory almost as large as -Spain itself. Well, he does ... but nobody said what he did in that -territory!" She gave a brief, shivering laugh. - -The sick man arose unsteadily. - -"That's the damnable point!" He trembled. "That's what I can't endure. -I think about it all the time. I was sitting in the plaza thinking -about the shame he puts on you--" - -The girl looked up at him. - -"Señor, what do you mean?" - -"I mean the shame and disgrace of it. I can't endure staying here -seeing you continually disgraced in your own home by one stray woman -after another!" - -The señora stared. - -"Señor, do you fancy I want it to be different?" - -The drummer was astonished. - -"You don't! Do you mean you condone such offense? Do you mean?..." - -The señora's black eyes grew moist at the reproach in his voice. - -"Dear Señor Tomas, that is something you do not understand. You don't -know how glad I am to be free of him--such a brute! Oh, señor, you -can't imagine how horrible it was--the very sight of him. It seemed to -me I could not endure it another day. A murderer, a robber...." The -expression on her face moved the drummer. "At last I went to Father -Benicio. I told him I would jump in the river and let the caymans eat -me rather than ... continue." - -Strawbridge was trembling as if he himself had been tormented; yet how -much of this was from sympathy, and how much from this heady topic of -sex which had suddenly sprung up between them, the youth himself had -not the faintest idea. - -"And what did he do? What did Father Benicio say?" - -The girl exhaled a sick breath. - -"Oh ... duty ... sacrament. _Sacrament_--with him!" She stood breathing -heavily through her open lips. "When Father Benicio saw I really meant -to kill myself, when he saw I was desperate, then, finally, he told me -to wear this." She touched her black nun's robe. - -"To wear what?" - -"This robe." - -The drummer looked at the robe as if he had not seen it before. - -"What has that got to do with it?" - -"_Pues ... cá!_" The señora began to laugh hysterically. "When I wore -this nun's robe, he stayed with other women all the time. He would not -touch me. He ... he.... Father Benicio said he would not!" - -She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. Strawbridge stared at -her. There was something dreadful about her laughter. Presently she -sobered abruptly. - -"Why ... why was that? Why-y?" The drummer was utterly at sea. - -The señora shook her head. - -"Father Benicio told me to wear this robe and conceal my hair." - -"What an extraordinary thing!" - -"Father Benicio is a very wise man." - -"But there is no sense to it. Still, if it worked...." The drummer -cogitated, and presently made the observation, "So, you are not wearing -it for your sister, after all?" - -"Señor, I have never had a sister." - -Such an extraordinary ruse required thought. The salesman sat down -slowly, and the girl followed his example. She was perusing his face -while he puzzled over the unaccountable quirk in the dictator's -amorousness. - -"Why, señora," he said at last, as if coming to a conclusion, "that -doesn't seem possible. Why, I think you are lovelier in your nun's robe -than.... Why, you look as pure and tender and as fair as the stars of -heaven. If I--" - -The Spanish girl reached out an impulsive hand and gripped the -American's. - -"Ah, Señor Tomas, that is because you are a dear, dear boy; it is -because you, yourself, are pure and tender and fine!" - -At her caress a force apparently quite other than himself moved him, -to his own fear and dismay. His unwounded hand went groping beneath -the voluminous sleeve of the robe, up the soft naked arm of the girl. -With his other arm he caught her as she swayed against him. She gave a -long sigh, as if utterly exhausted. The touch of her body to his set -Strawbridge quivering and trembling. His bandaged hand groped over her -with delicate pains until it touched the warm supple mounds of her -bosom; there the sheer pain in his fingers mingled with his passion and -edged it into a sort of tingling ecstasy. - -The two lay relaxed together in the corner of the couch, without a -sound. The music-room swam before the man's eyes, in the melting -madness of her warmth and passion. She wore no perfume--no doubt by the -wisdom of Father Benicio--but the faint, intimate odor of a woman's -hair and body ravaged his senses with its provocation. He drew her -closer. He was trembling as if with sickness. He passed his lips over -her temples, cheeks, nose; their lips met. - -He had desired her subconsciously for so long; he had repressed his -passion for her so endlessly into the very form of propriety that now -it suddenly burst loose like a flood and rushed over his senses. The -two clung together quite silently except for an occasional sob, an -intake of shaken breath, and the rapid murmur of their hearts. - -Strawbridge first recovered himself. Her embrace had whisked away all -his feeling of futility and doubt. He knew now precisely what he must -do. - -"First," he said, "I've got to get you out of here." - -She looked at him with misty eyes and a faint, sad smile. - -"Out of the _palacio_?" she whispered. - -"Out of Rio Negro, out of Venezuela, to the States." Her sweet puzzled -face amused him, and made him feel tenderer than ever. - -"But, dear Tomas, I am married." - -"We'll get a divorce." - -"But that is impossible in Rio Negro." - -"It's easy in the States." - -She studied his face so intently that he grew a little afraid of what -she might say about the divorce. Finally she asked: - -"My own dear life, when did you first _know_ you loved me?" - -After that the sequence of their plans to elope was continually -broken by caresses and the wistful interrogations of a newly revealed -love. Mixed in with these they planned with what coherence they could -their elopement. They discussed horses, a motor, but finally decided -on a small boat down the Rio Negro. Strawbridge would get one that -afternoon, and the next night they would start from the piazza in the -darkness. By daylight they would reach San Geronimo and the Orinoco. - -The señora tried to make her lover realize the gravity of the -undertaking, the danger and certainty of punishment if they were -discovered, but the whole affair glowed on the American in a -rose-colored light. They would escape, of a certainty. He had never -failed to do anything he set out to do, and he wouldn't fail now. Luck -was always with him, and he was predestined to win. He was in gala -mood. He commanded fortune! Once the girl put up a hand to his mouth. - -"Eh, hush! don't say that! It ... it reminds me of ... him." - - -Their talk came down to the odds and ends of the affair--how large -a bundle of clothes she could smuggle out of the palace; the food -they should carry, hammocks and _mosquiteros_. In the midst of these -trifles came the sound of many feet in the corridor. The man and the -woman got away from each other quickly and sat on opposite ends of the -couch, looking at the door a little anxiously, when there really did -come a sharp rap. With a glance at Strawbridge, the señora sprang up, -crossed the room, and opened the shutter. In the entrance stood General -Fombombo in full uniform. Banked behind him were ranks of men, most -of whom were in uniform. After an instant the blurr of color defined -itself as Coronel Saturnino, a number of other officers, several of the -governmental dignitaries, some of the alcaldes from the surrounding -villages, Gumersindo in his white linen, and behind them ranks of the -palace guards, in dress uniform. It was a fiesta assembly. - -The drummer stared at the processional in the utmost amazement. A wild -suspicion shot through his head that somehow General Fombombo had -learned of his dalliance with Dolores, and that all this pomp was a -movement to arrest him and send him to prison. The American moistened -his lips. He could feel the blood leave his face as he stood looking at -Dolores's husband. - -But the general was smiling. Indeed, the faces of the whole group of -dignitaries wore expressions of mysterious kindliness and good-will. -The black man Gumersindo seemed to labor under some beneficent -excitement. The dictator began speaking, not in ordinary conversational -tones, but in the somewhat over-emphasized articulation of an orator. - -"Señor Strawbridge," he began, "we, the admiring citizens of the -independent republic of Rio Negro, have chosen during this fiesta -and on this historic spot to express to you our never-dying respect, -gratitude, and affection for a man, who, impelled by no selfish motive, -but moved only by a flame from the very altar of freedom itself, by -the purest love of human liberty and the world-wide brotherhood of -man, has hurled himself upon the field of battle and, at the risk of -his own life, made safe the social and political securities of a young -and struggling people. Amid the defiance of cannon and the flashing -of swords, you, Señor Tomas Strawbridge, led the forces of liberty to -complete and glorious victory. It is with tears of gratitude that we, -the representatives of the free and independent state of Rio Negro, -bestow upon you this token of our love and appreciation for your heroic -act in saving the insurgent army on the bloody field of San Geronimo. -There will come a time, Señor Strawbridge, when our beloved valley will -be decked with great and smiling cities; when men and women will live -with no tyrant to make them afraid; then, carved in letters of gold -in the pantheon of that happy people, will shine the name of Tomas -Strawbridge, hero of San Geronimo!" - -The President was moved. His eyes were misty as he drew from his pocket -and pinned on the drummer's lapel a little gold decoration pendent -from a rainbow-colored ribbon. It was the Order of the _Libertador_, -for heroic action. Strawbridge had seen dozens of these decorations in -Venezuela, but he had always put them down to the South American's -love of fripperies. Now there was something about these men and their -solemn, admiring faces that moved him. - -A play of incongruous emotions kept harassing the American's nerves. He -alternately flushed and paled. How grotesque it was that the general -should have given him this medal just as he was planning to abduct -the general's wife! As the dictator bent toward him to pin on the -decoration, the drummer caught a strong odor of musk. - -After the presentation other dignitaries delivered orations reviewing -Rio Negro's heroic past. They pointed out, from the very music-room -windows, spots where martyrs had perished. - -When the officials had finished, Gumersindo read his whole six columns -describing the battle of San Geronimo. The black man seldom glanced at -the paper, but recited the whole from memory, in an agreeable resonant -baritone. - -After the ceremony the whole audience shook hands with the drummer, and -each man expressed his admiration with a suppleness of phrase that was -very graceful and yet seemed sincere. Perhaps it was. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -There are certain moments in the lives of men when the only course -of action morally possible lies along immoral lines. By dint of hard -necessity such moments lose the reproach of bad faith and assume the -simple pathos of misfortune. Perhaps three-fourths of the crimes -committed because of women fall into this unhappy class. - -Long before convention softened the rape to its symbol, the marriage -ceremony, men abducted the women they loved. There must have been a -time when the highest social virtue was for a passionate swain to steal -a girl from her jealous guardians. Upon this broad corner-stone of -passion have arisen daring, stalwart, and reproductive generations, and -that is the final word of approbation with which life lauds conduct. - -Since that simpler era, minor moral obligations hinging on property, -society, friendship, nationality, and former marriages have confused -but have not transformed the issue. To-day, when any of these obstacles -are swept aside by passionate lovers, one feels its pathos but not its -sin. - -It was precisely in this dilemma that Strawbridge labored. The little -gold medal fastened on his lapel by the dictator reproached him -continually as he worked in his room, packing in a canvas roll those of -his belongings which were absolutely indispensable. He meant to carry -them inconspicuously to the river. General Fombombo was his host; he -had been a prospective customer until the capture of the rifles at -San Geronimo, and he still was a trusting friend. And now he, Thomas -Strawbridge, was about to steal the general's wife! The big American -sickened at the thought of it, but the complementary idea of resigning -Dolores never once presented itself to his mind. This would have been a -desertion of something exquisitely more dear and intimate than his own -flesh. Since the señora's embraces, her body seemed more native to him -than his own. There was something shrine-like about her. - -With Hebraic simplicity the Bible says of a man and wife, "Ye are one," -and this was meant for lovers. Strawbridge tingled and thrilled with -this amazing oneness. Some miracle had occurred within him to extend -his sentiency into the señora. As he worked, she rushed upon him at -intervals with such poignancy that he would lay down his packing and -sigh and tremble at the sudden and sweet transfiguration. He was not -himself any more. Body and soul were impermeated, somehow, with the -sweetness of Dolores. - -In the midst of one of these epiphanies came a tap at his door. The -drummer had a sense of being waked out of a sleep. He saw his canvas -pack under his hands and made an effort to conceal it by thrusting -it hastily into an open cabinet drawer. Some of his toilet articles -and clothes lay scattered about, and he tried to cover them under the -sheets of his disordered bed. It seemed to him that his jumble of -packing must advertise to the world his intention of eloping with the -señora. When the American had concealed enough to give his room an -aspect of innocence, he went over and opened the door. The _griffe_ -girl stood in the hallway. Her freckled face seemed screwed up with -some internal tension. Her black eyes sparkled. - -"_Ola_, señor!" she whispered, and stepped inside with her air of -excitement and her glittering eyes. Strawbridge looked at her in -dismay. Plainly she knew his plans, and he thought to himself that they -might as well have been published in the "Correo." - -The maid burst into ejaculations: - -"_Caramba!_ How well you look! You have been cured by magic!" She -reached out and gave his arm a sudden squeeze, giggled, then, with an -effect of legerdemain, thrust into his hand a little green-gold watch. - -The American looked at it blankly. - -"What the hell?" he asked in a low tone. - -His profanity shook the girl into a hysteria of choked giggles; then -she produced, also apparently out of nothingness, a blue envelop -directed to himself. Instantly Strawbridge knew that it was from the -señora, and his heart began to beat. His fingers trembled so that he -could not get into the envelop with his one good hand. He was forced to -ask the girl to open it. - -The half-breed went at the matter in her own way, moistening an edge -with her little red tongue and picking open the damp crease with a -hair-pin. The big American stood with his good hand gripping her plump -shoulder and delaying the operation by his impatience. - -The note was exceedingly brief. It said simply: - - - Set my watch with yours. Piazza, 11 P.M. to-morrow. - - DOLORES JUANA AVILON Y BUSTAMENTE. - - -The implication of the señora's maiden name written in full moved -Strawbridge with a delicate tenderness. He looked at the letter, then -at the watch. It was an old-fashioned timepiece, carved on the obverse -side with a faint landscape which was worn smooth in places; on the -reverse was an antique coat of arms with its quarterings colored by a -worn but exquisite enamel. The drummer did not know that he was looking -at an heirloom of centuries; he had no idea that on the back of this -watch he saw the combined coats of arms of two of the most ancient -houses of Spain. A sense of pathos moved him at its evident age. - -"Poor little girl!" he thought to himself. "The first thing I'll -do when we get to New York will be to go to Tiffany's and get her a -wrist-watch." He set the timepiece, with care, and returned it to the -_griffe_ girl. - - -In the afternoon Strawbridge went down to the native market to lay in -provisions against his voyage down the river. Among the little market -stalls the only prepared food he could find were the cart-wheels of -cassava bread. The sick man looked at this bread dubiously. He knew -that at one stage in the making of cassava it is a rank poison, and -he wondered if the Indians in making this bread had extracted all its -bane. The sight of the loaves which had once been poison filled him -with foreboding. He imagined himself and the señora going down the -river in a small boat and becoming poisoned on this bread. What a -horrible end to their romance! - -The possibility depressed him. However, he purchased a loaf, had it -wrapped in a palm-leaf, and recalled wistfully the little delicatessen -shops in Keokuk where he could order a lunch with a word. He wished -keenly for them, as he bought some wood-like yammi and two or three big -plantains shaped like rough bananas. When he started back home with his -bundle, a dozen porters besieged him begging to be allowed to carry it. - -Later in the afternoon he went to the fish-wharf, to bargain for a -boat. He found clumsy crafts, each one carved out of a single log, -leaky, greasy, and smelling overpoweringly of fish. The drummer -walked slowly from one end of the quay to the other. The notion of -embarking Dolores in one of these vile boats filled him with disgust. -At last he chose the least loathly of the dugouts, and began dickering -with its fishy owner, to buy it. The fisherman was a barefooted, -chocolate-colored peon, who carried a paddle about with him as a sign -of his calling. He was naked from waist to sombrero. His legs were -thin, but his torso rippled with muscles developed by his boating. -His face, his inch of forehead, and his coarse hair were just a few -centuries this side of the pithecanthropus. He could scarcely believe -the _caballero_ could want to buy his fish-boat. He stared and -scratched his head at the marvel. - -"You are no poor man, señor. Why should you fish?" - -"I fish for sport." - -"_Caramba!_ sport! Do you think it is sport to bake in the sun, to be -flung into the rapids, to fight the crocodiles that eat your catch? Do -you call it sport to pack a _tonelada_ of fish on your back, trying to -vend them when no one will buy?" - -Some fellow fishermen drew about the two at this curious conversation. -One of them interposed: - -"Perhaps _el caballero_ is going to fish as a penance, Simon. Perhaps -he has committed some grievous sin and _el padre_ has imposed--" - -"_Basta!_ Are you blind, Alessandro? Do you not see this _hombre_ is an -_Americano_, and not a Christian at all? The padre is nothing to him." - -Another voice in the fish-scented crowd took up the argument: - -"An _Americano_! Perhaps he does fish for sport. They do the maddest -things for sport; they run and walk and jump and fight for sport. This -one went to the battle of San Geronimo and won a ribbon. There it is; -you can see it for yourself on his coat." - -One of the older fishers shrugged a naked shoulder: - -"Sport never sent the _Americano_ into the battle, brothers. I was -talking to an _hombre_ named Lubito, a bull-fighter, and what he said -... what Lubito said about this _Americano_...." The old peon nodded, -and thumped the butt of his paddle on the ground. - -"What did he say?" asked Alessandro. - -The ancient lifted a shoulder, pulled down his wrinkled lips, nodded at -the palace up the river and at the gloomy bulk of La Fortuna down the -river, made a clicking sound with his tongue, and went silent. - -These clicks and glances seemed to explain something. Simon, who owned -the boat, looked at Strawbridge, with his small black Indian eyes -stretched wide. - -"_Cá!_ Then you don't want to fish, after all?" - -"Look here!" rapped out the drummer, feeling very uncomfortable. "Do I -get that boat or not?" - -Simon shrugged, and mentioned a price which no doubt was grotesquely -exorbitant, according to his peon sense of value. The drummer reached -into his pocket and drew out a roll of Venezuelan bills. - -"I'll take it provided you'll scrub the damn thing with sand and get it -clean." - -The whole crowd stared at this amazingly swift trade. Here and there -came a sharp intake of breath at such an amount paid for such a boat. -Only the peon who owned the boat kept his head, but his excitement was -shown by the sharp dints in the sides of his sun-blacked nose. - -"Señor," he jockeyed, breathing heavily and staring at the bills, "it -is impossible for me to clean the boat at such a price. Already I have -given the boat away; I have pushed it into the rapids. I am a poor man, -señor, and I cannot possibly clean the boat for less than ... for less -than--" he stared fishily at Strawbridge, fearing to name too small a -sum--"t-t-two, t-three ... _sí_ ... t-t-three more bolivars, señor, and -it will be cheap as mangos, at that!" - -The drummer drew out the three extra bolivars and tossed them to the -fellow. Three bolivars are sixty cents. - -"Scrub it with sand, and hitch it below the _palacio_ when you finish." - - -One of the fishermen shook his fist violently in the air, a peaceable -Spanish gesture to work off unusual excitement. The oldish peon leaned -forward on his paddle. - -"No one must speak of this unless all of us want to...." He drew his -finger across his throat, made a clicking sound, and nodded toward La -Fortuna. - -It was sundown when Strawbridge returned to the palace. In coming up -the river bank the drummer took a short route behind the cathedral. As -he came closer he saw that a nest of little adobe houses were built -like lean-tos against the sides of the church. These little mud huts -clinging humbly to the soaring walls of the great fane, and the whole -illuminated in the deep yellow of sunset, formed a picture which -arrested even the drummer. It drove away for a moment the permeating -thought of the señora. It extinguished his desire and his sense of -hurry, in the timelessness of beauty. - -Beyond him on his left lay the wide vacuity of the river. The terrain -on which Strawbridge walked was high above the river and was grown with -patches of thistles, cactus, and a thin, harsh grass. Through this -wound a number of paths leading to this or that little hut. The scene -was animated with a scattering of naked brown youngsters who played -silently and seriously after the manner of Latin children. They almost -blended with their background of sand and adobe. - -As the drummer walked through this quaint place, an old woman, with her -apron full of charcoal, came out of a little shop. She hobbled along a -path, evidently meaning to intercept the American. Her intention became -so obvious that he stopped and waited for her. - -"Can I do anything for you, _vieja_?" he inquired, running a hand into -his pocket. - -The old creature crossed herself with her free hand. - -"May the Holy Virgin guard you, señor!" - -The sick man got out a centavo, but to his surprise the crone did not -extend her palm. - -"_Señor Americano_" she whispered, "when do I get my Josefa back!" - -The question sounded so pointless that Strawbridge thought she must be -slightly unbalanced. - -"Your Josefa, señora?" - -She pointed with a trembling hand. - -"The poor _joven_ you sent to La Fortuna, señor." - -The drummer was nonplussed. She seemed to be rational; indeed, she had -shrewd wrinkled eyes and a high-bridged, aristocratic nose. She might -have been a kind of dowdy dowager. - -"_I_ sent a youth to La Fortuna, señora!" - -She glanced up at the yellow-green sky. - -"Holy San Pablo! Has he forgot! Is it so little to him, that he forgets -my poor boy Josefa, the _dependiente_ in 'Sol y Sombra,' whom he loaded -with irons and hid away in La Fortuna!" - -The drummer regarded the old creature with troubled surprise to find -that she was connected with the unhappy clerk in "Sol y Sombra." -Indeed, he had almost forgot the incident of the little monkey-eyed -clerk; or at least it no longer disturbed him. The battle of San -Geronimo had somehow cut a gap in his life, and all things antecedent -to it seemed in a remote past. Now this woman had abruptly crossed -the gap, and had bound one of the keenest indiscretions of his old -life with his new. Somewhere under the black hulk of La Fortuna, which -glowered against the sunset, Josefa still existed. Strawbridge felt -that thrill of discomfort which a sportsman feels when a quail flutters -in his coat hours after it should have died. He hardly knew what to -say. Finally he asked: - -"Are you Josefa's mother!" - -"His grandmother, señor. He lived with me, but when he fell into -misfortune, I had to give up my house, and Father Benicio found me a -place here in the cathedral, to scrub the brasses. I live in the third -_casa_ yonder, under the transept." She pointed it out, and, from her -tone, the little hut seemed part of her griefs. - -She stood looking at Strawbridge expectantly, evidently waiting for him -to do or say something. He grew more and more uncomfortable. He put his -hand irresolutely into his pocket and drew out some coins, regarded -them doubtfully, and made a suggestive movement toward the crone. She -held out an old hand, raw in places from her unaccustomed work in the -cathedral. - -"When do I get my boy back, señor!" she repeated in a low tone. - -"Señora, ... I don't know." - -"You do not know when you are going to sack La Fortuna!" Her whisper -was astonished. - -"I ... sack La Fortuna!" - -"_Seguramente_, señor! Lubito said you had all your plans laid. He said -you had men everywhere, ready to leap upon Canalejos at a word from -you; that you would set all the prisoners free and put the tyrants in -their own dungeons. But he said you were a North American, and that -when you gained power you would not oppress the people as General Miedo -and General Fombombo did." - -Strawbridge was annoyed and a little anxious at this continual bobbing -up of the bull-fighter's gossip. - -"Look here," he said. "Lubito is going to get me into serious trouble, -spreading that sort of rumor." - -"Oh, no, señor! the peons never betray the _hombre_ who comes to fight -their battles. No one spoke a word when General Miedo marched against -Canalejos. He was in the city before _he_"--she nodded toward the -palace--"knew a breath of it. No one will speak against you. Lubito has -arranged everything. The whole town will rise up when you lift your -sword. I shall be happy, señor, when you stand _him_--" another nod at -the palace--"in front of the rifles." - -Strawbridge was shocked at her bloodthirstiness. And he saw that -nothing he could say would shake her in her delusion. And why should he -shake her? Why not let her draw any comfort she could from an imaginary -revenge? He promised to do what he could for Josefa, and started on for -the palace. - -That evening Strawbridge did not sit with the señora on the piazza. -Their plan to elope had made the lovers chary of being seen together. -The drummer sat in his room and from his window watched the vestiges -of sunset darken into night. He was ill, and the reaction after all of -his walking and talking and love-play with the señora made him weary -and despondent. Thoughts of Josefa and the old charwoman bedeviled -him. Through his window he could see the dark reproach of La Fortuna -blotting out the residual umber in the east. Somewhere in that pile -Josefa lay manacled because he, Thomas Strawbridge, had conceived a -hardware display for "Sol y Sombra." The salesman got up and moved -about his room in weary restlessness. In his thoughts he cursed the -country. He recalled Rosales standing before the firing-squad; the -little Austrian operator whom Saturnino had corrupted; the centaurism -of General Fombombo. It was the country: there was something about this -country that got a man. Then there insinuated itself into his reverie -the fact that he himself was planning to elope with the dictator's wife. - -Strawbridge's thinking stopped abruptly and he stood staring at -nothingness, with widened eyes. He did not want to yield to wickedness. -He wanted to stay decent. And even as he was thinking these things a -profound justification arose in his mind. It was his duty to deliver an -unhappy woman from such a mad, immoral land. It was his duty and his -deepest desire. He had the widest license to protect her that any man -could possess: he loved her. - -But as to the others--there was something about this country that got a -man. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -The next morning Strawbridge awoke with a brisk feeling that some -important and happy event was pressing into his life. The sight of his -roll of canvas, packed and ready to go, and the bundle of cassava bread -gave substance to his mood. He felt stronger than he had since his -sickness. No doubt the caresses of the Spanish girl had infused vigor -into his big body. He sat up on the side of his bed, pushed his feet -into alpargatas, and then got up and went flapping into his bath-room. -He got out of his pajamas and walked carefully down the slippery steps -of his marble bath, turned the key in the silver nozzle overhead, -and stood gratefully in the faintly cool shower. It was his first -self-performed ablution since his sickness, and when he had finished he -set about the ticklish experiment of toweling himself with the aid of -his wounded hand. He managed a very light friction without pain, and -this pleased him keenly. His big body was growing softly pinkish again. -He ran his good hand along the slight growth of hair on his chest -and down the curve of his abdomen with the frank narcissism most men -possess and which the thought of marriage enhances. - -To-night he and the señora would embark on the most tinglingly romantic -adventure of their lives. At the thought his heart began to beat. She -was only a little way from him at that moment, only a few doors distant. - -He went back into his room and began touchy efforts to dress himself. -He did his underclothes well enough, but his socks were troublesome -because his feet were still faintly damp. Suddenly, through some -compulsion, he dropped this task midway, jabbed his feet into -alpargatas again, stood up, and looked out the window. He did not know -what had prompted him. In the gray light he saw the slender figure of a -nun passing from the palace to the cathedral. - -The sight filled the drummer with an extraordinary turbulence. He made -a step toward the window and called to her sotto voce. She did not -hear, and he drew an intake of breath on the verge of calling more -loudly, but the caution of lovers silenced him. After all, why should -he call her? He stood watching her, repressing the imperative which -had moved him to attract her attention. He did not even know what he -had meant to say. His excitement calmed him a little, and even amused -him. He pressed his face against the window bars and watched her as far -as he possibly could, until the ornamental evergreen with its tassels -concealed her from his eyes. Then he turned back to his toilet, with a -faint sense of deprivation. - -Only then did the drummer think definitely that the señora was going to -early mass and confession. In a few minutes she would enter the little -double stall in the cathedral and would whisper through the aperture, -into the ear of a priest. - -The thought brought him a pang, and that, perhaps, was the reason of -his distress at her going. He had instinctively wanted her not to go. -In the confessional Dolores would whisper of their passionate moment -in the music-room; she would lay bare every nook and corner of her -heart. The thought of any other human being knowing what was in her -heart filled him with a vague jealousy. The idea grew into a mysterious -and painful emotion. He could not get rid of it. The priest would -explore the señora's heart more intimately than he. And he saw no end -to such conditions. He could never get as close to Dolores as could -her spiritual adviser. One day, no doubt, she would hold him in her -arms, she would give him all that she was, and yet somewhere within -the woman's soul would remain privacies which he, her wistful and -passionate lover, could never know. Such a reservation filled him with -a kind of despair. He felt that in the holiest places of her soul he -must remain a stranger. The man's self-torture brought sweat to his -face. - -He went back to his dressing, but kept glancing through the window, -watching for the girl's return. He recalled that he had set his watch -with the señora's. He got it from under his pillow and looked at -it. The hour was eleven minutes after five. In seventeen hours and -forty-nine minutes he and Dolores would be out on the rapids in the -night. It seemed to him as if everything were waiting for that hour to -come. The whole mechanism of day and night tapered to this event. A -little quiver went through him. - -In the east the sun must have cut the horizon, for behind the cathedral -and the prison spread a pale-gold fan. From the top of the prison came -the flash of a cannon dimly picked out, like the flare of a firefly -against the light. Two seconds later came the flat crash as if some -power had delivered a terrific blow and had lapsed instantly into -silence. It advertised the dictator's will over the llanos. The drummer -looked at the prison against the east, with his old feeling of dismay. - -The stir and rattle of early morning brushed away this unhappy -impression. Came a tap at his door, and the _griffe_ girl brought in -his coffee. She still wore her air of suppressed but joyous excitement, -and presently volunteered the whispered information that the señora had -not as yet returned from early mass. - -"She is usually back by this time." She nodded. - -"Wonder what's keeping her," said Strawbridge, as naturally as he could. - -"I do wonder," echoed the maid, turning, with her silver urn in her -hand, to look through the window. - -The drummer felt an impulse to talk to the girl about his coming -adventure. It was clear that she knew all about it, but he decided -regretfully not to. It would be imprudent. The maid stood close to the -window now, looking at an angle into the plaza. Suddenly she began -jiggling up and down. - -"Oh, there she is! I see her black gown coming through the shrubs!" - -Strawbridge knew that he ought to remain sipping his coffee, but he -jumped up and strode over to the girl's side. The two stood with their -heads almost together, getting glimpses of the black gown through -the shrubbery. The little maid unconsciously caught and squeezed -Strawbridge's arm. - -"Oh, isn't she the sweetest, dearest señora! Oh señor, isn't she lovely -and beautiful and just too sweet!" The little servant was caught -up in a paroxysm of a woman's love for lovers. She might have been -Strawbridge himself glowing over his sweetheart; or perhaps it is truer -to say that she was glowing toward him through the vicarious love of -her mistress. In the midst of it her spirits suddenly fell. - -"_Cá!_" she pouted. "It's Father Benicio!" - -Her disappointment was so intense that the drummer laughed. He patted -her rubbery shoulder. - -"Oh, well, that doesn't destroy the señora completely," and in good -spirits he finished his thimbleful of coffee. - -The maid went out with the coffee things and left Strawbridge standing -at the window with a feeling of well-being. The romance surrounding -the way he would gain his wife moved him pleasantly. It reminded him -somewhat of the film he had seen in Keokuk called "Maid in Mexico." -At the time he had thought such a romance impossible, and yet he had -vaguely wished that some such thing might happen to him. And now that -the fact that his own life had fallen into lines rather resembling that -cheap melodrama, profoundly increased his pleasure in this passing -moment at the window. So, American slap-stick movies found a remote -justification. - - -The drummer was brought out of his reverie by a rustling of skirts in -the passageway and a tap at his door. His thoughts instantly warmed to -the señora and in a low tone he called to her to enter. He moved toward -the door, with a fancy to take her into his arms and kiss her. When the -door opened, Father Benicio entered. Then the American recalled that -Dolores was still at the cathedral. - -Strawbridge, rather curious as to what had brought the priest here, -pushed forward a chair, and chose one for himself. He pulled his around -so he could see out at the window. Then he drew his cigar-case and -offered it. The father accepted a cigar and rolled it gently between -his thin fingers. - -"How is your business, Señor Strawbridge?" he inquired casually. - -The drummer was surprised. This was the first time a Venezuelan had -ever volunteered the topic of business. He lighted a wax match and held -it to his cigar. - -"Why, ... so-so," he answered in a muffled voice, out of the corner of -his mouth. And he got his cigar going. - -"Will you sell as many rifles as you hoped?" - -Strawbridge looked at the end of his weed to see if it was burning -smoothly. - -"Think not. You see, the capture of San Geronimo has given the general -a large number of rifles. They're out of date, of course, but then ... -you know this country." - -Father Benicio nodded paternally. - -"A little behind the times in warfare, as in everything else. However, -Señor Strawbridge, if I can bring my influence to bear in any way to -promote your interest, I hope you will not hesitate to call on me." - -The drummer was genuinely touched. - -"Why, thanks, Father Benicio; I appreciate that." - -The priest gave a rather bloodless smile. - -"I am glad to assist you because, if you will allow me to say it, your -sincerity of purpose deserves assistance. I have always admired the -enterprise you North Americans exhibit. For instance, I cannot think of -any other man than a North American who would have the moral courage -to put by every incentive to misuse his position for his own personal -advancement, and remain true to his employers." - -The American blew out a puff of smoke, removed and looked at his cigar, -and said in a tone that varied by a hair from his normal hearty voice: - -"That's a very nice compliment, Father; I hope I am worthy of it." - -"I am sure you are. You know there are so many temptations, in -this country, into which a man can fall and forsake his business -obligations." - -Strawbridge drew thoughtfully at his cigar. - -"Well, ... yes, probably so." Back of this by-play he felt a little -uncomfortable with the suspicion that Dolores had told the priest -of their proposed flight. If so, here was still another person in -Canalejos who knew of it. - -Father Benicio did not answer at once, but sat for perhaps half a -minute gazing out into the plaza; his silence showed the priest did -mean something very personal and intimate in his general remarks. -Presently he began again: - -"Your company sends you out at a great deal of expense, Señor -Strawbridge. Your employers place high confidence in you. In fact, -have you ever stopped to think that the commanding position of -Anglo-Saxon commerce in the world is founded directly upon the devoted -self-sacrifice of its agents, just such men as you? There is a moral -solidarity among the English peoples, Señor Strawbridge, which I should -like very well indeed to see in my own people." - -It was very evident to the drummer that he was about to receive what -traveling salesmen call a "bawling out." He knew the priest meant to -"bawl him out" about Dolores. And he considered quickly what line of -resistance to take. In the meantime the father talked on, smoothly and -sympathetically: - -"And, Señor Strawbridge, I am a priest. I am, I trust, a vicar of God -to all mankind." He crossed himself. "And if I, as a priest, could help -you over any little obstacle in your path, I should be deeply pleased. -If you could frankly discuss with me any little difficulty that may -have come into your life--I mean ethical difficulty; some clash between -your private desires, for instance, and the duty you owe to the company -which sent you here...." - -Strawbridge reddened at this very clear statement that the priest -knew everything, and he answered in the rather flat tones of nascent -irritation: - -"Really, Father Benicio, there is no clash whatever between ... er ... -anything I propose to do and my business duties." - -"I am glad to hear you say that, my son?" But the sentence was an -interrogation. - -The drummer remained silent. He did not mean to discuss with Father -Benicio his affairs with the señora. He smoked stolidly, staring into -the green and gold of the plaza. The early morning sunshine gave it a -tender glow. The cleric placed his unlighted cigar gently on the edge -of the table, and did not pick it up any more. - -"Whom I am really thinking about, Señor Strawbridge, is my daughter, -Dolores Avilon Fombombo." - -Strawbridge frowned slightly as if at some disagreeable flavor in his -tobacco. - -"Did she go and tell you everything?" - -"Naturally, señor. What else could she do?" - -The drummer flung his head about and looked at the father. - -"Good Lord! in a case like this--" He broke off abruptly. "Well, what -are you going to do about it?" - -"I? Nothing. I advised my daughter not to do this rash thing which you -and she contemplate." - -"Rash! After six years of insult and abuse!" - -The priest bent his head gravely. - -"_Sí_, señor, very rash and very wicked." - -The big salesman straightened in his chair and with outraged eyes -regarded the cleric. - -"Wicked! How do you get that answer? Wicked to get rid of an empty -marriage? Call that wicked? For Dolores to leave a man who shows by -every move he makes that he doesn't give a damn about her! Don't your -reason tell you it would be damn sight wickeder for her to remain in -such a shameful connection with a man she detests?" - -Father Benicio sat measuring the salesman, with small black eyes. - -"Do you gauge shame and honor and duty purely by the personal pleasure -one receives in obeying one's vows and obligations, Señor Strawbridge?" - -"I'm not measuring anything. I'm stating facts." - -"Does it cease to be your duty to attend to the business of your -company, merely because it would be pleasanter to run off with your -customer's wife?" - -The drummer lifted a hand and laid it flat on the table. - -"Look here, you can cut out that line of talk. She's not his wife. He's -given her up. And, besides, folks do marry to make life pleasanter on -the whole. Yes, they do. You know they do. And if their life on the -whole is unpleasanter after marriage than before, why, then they've -failed. They are not a going concern. They are not declaring any -dividends, and the only thing to do is to quit; to get a divorce and -quit." - -Father Benicio sat reflecting on this to such an extent that -Strawbridge thought he had convinced him, by mere power of argument; -however, at last the priest began again: - -"But, Señor Strawbridge, there are some duties which you will always -perform at great inconvenience and even pain to yourself. These duties -are not what you could call dividend-bearing duties. They will never -pay you anything; they will always bring loss and pain and yet ... you -do them." - -"What sort of duties are you talking about?" asked the drummer, -suspiciously. - -"Well, ... your business obligations to your house." - -"But I tell you that isn't in this. The order's gone--" - -"But if it were, and in the midst of your enterprise you were moved -to desert your firm by some sharp and sudden passion, which, if you -resisted, would cause you pain as long as your memory held its seat, -still ... would you not stand by your obligations? My son, when I look -at you, I believe you would." - -Strawbridge started to speak, then paused to clear his throat. - -"Look here, Father, that's different. When it comes to business--" - -"But business is only a duty, an obligation among other obligations." - -"Yes, I know; but you see, business depends on team-work. A hundred, a -thousand, a million other men are in the game with you. You can't lay -down on your own crowd. Why--good Lord!--if we all got to laying down -when we liked, the whole commerce of America would go bluey!" - -The priest smiled faintly and kindly. - -"So you will stand by business coöperation at expense to yourself, but -not social coöperation, or spiritual coöperation?" - -"About the last two--" the drummer shook a finger--"I don't know." - -"Now let us see," said the priest, evidently becoming more -comfortable. "You owed your time to your company. Why did you not spend -your time with the general, trying to get an order, instead of with the -general's wife?" - -"I did try to, but he wouldn't talk business, and that's the only kind -of talk I can talk with a man. When I talk anything besides business -or politics, it's got to be with a woman. Then when I saw how badly -treated the señora was--why, any man with a spark of manhood--" - -"Would assist her," finished the priest. "But do you think it fair or -honest to your employers to give up their business in order to rectify -wrongs which don't concern you? And was there as much suffering as -you fancied? You found things here exactly as they had been for six -years. It was a status quo, a method of existence, and then you came in -and broke it all up. You persuaded a frail girl into the belief that -happiness lies not in following the law of God but in yielding to her -impulses and passion." - -"Well, she will probably get happiness that way. Most women do. At -least, she'll have a chance. If a woman's first marriage is a failure, -maybe she'll have better luck next time." - -"But you say, yourself, one ought not to break business obligations." - -"Sure not!" - -"Don't you think vows taken before God are as binding as a trade -between an employer and a salesman?" - -Strawbridge shook his shoulders in irritation. - -"Oh, damn it! you twist everything to suit yourself! I don't know -anything about this vow-to-God stuff. Business is business. As to -marriage vows, we go before a justice of the peace at home and we don't -vow to God.... Well, now, anyway, you come right down to it and, don't -you know, business _is_ the most important! You know not a thing in the -world depends on your religion. Your house doesn't depend on it for -their sales; your national trade balance stays right where it belongs, -no matter who's got religion and who hasn't. But all that sort of thing -slumps the minute you neglect business. Now, you'll excuse me for -putting the plain dope to you. I know you are a priest and all that, -and it's very seldom anybody talks plain horse-sense to a preacher. But -instead of anything depending on religion, you know and I know that if -the business interests of America should neglect the church for just -six months, why--bluey!" Mr. Strawbridge snapped his fingers, waved his -hands, and nodded, then concluded in an ordinary tone: "So it is very -important that business comes first, and then ... other things." - -The priest arose slowly, turned toward the door, and then hesitated. - -"Señor Strawbridge," he asked carefully, "what would you do if your -order for rifles really did depend upon your going back to New York and -leaving this unfortunate girl in peace?" - -"Well, since the order has gone to the bowwows, that is out of the -question." - -"But what would you do?" - -"Hell! there wouldn't be but one thing to do! What makes you ask?" He -turned around and looked at the father. - -The black-robed figure reached inside his cassock and drew out a -legal-sized document. It was dignified with a big red government seal. -The priest opened it with a crisp rattling and spread it on the table -before Strawbridge. It began with a sounding preamble: - - - By order of his Excellency, el General Adriano Caspiano Guillermo - Fombombo y Herrara, Constitutional President of the Free and - Independent State of Rio Negro, Señor Don Tomas Strawbridge, - representative of a corporation bearing the name of Orion Arms - Corporation, located and doing business in the City of New York, - State of New York, is hereby empowered to purchase from his said - Company fifty thousand rifles of the caliber and specifications - stated in the attached sheet of specifications, and a million and - a quarter rounds of cartridges for said rifles. The same to be - delivered f.o.b., at the steamer in the harbor of New York and to - be billed to Senhor Dom Sebastiano Carupano in Rio de Janeiro, - Brazil, not later than six months from the date of this order. - - JUAN DELGOA, - _Minister of War_. - - -The drummer stared, open-mouthed, at the order. He licked his lips and -with a sick face looked up at the priest. His voice came thickly: - -"H-how came you with this, Father?" - -"I asked for it, my son." - -"Does he ... does the general know ... everything?" - -"I suppose so, Señor Strawbridge," said the priest, drily; "he has a -fairly competent intelligence department, and you were right here in -the _palacio_." - -Strawbridge nodded numbly. - -"Did ... you tell him why you wanted this?" he asked in a strained -voice. - -"The general has confidence in me, señor; I simply requested the order, -and received it. You, yourself, would have received it in due time if -... you had been available." - -The salesman's shoulders felt heavy. Perspiration broke out over his -face. - -"Well, ... after all ... I can't accept this." - -"What do you mean?" - -"You kept it too long: I can't break my word to the señora." - -"But it is a duty you owe your company." - -"No, we made arrangements when I thought the trade was off. That -finishes this." He pushed the contract away. - -The father walked over to the big drummer and laid a translucent hand -on his shoulder. - -"You seem unhappy over this, Señor Strawbridge." - -"My old man will think I double-crossed him--for a woman. He'll never -believe the real facts." - -"My son--" Father Benicio's voice softened--"Dolores is just as -unhappy as you are. She feels just as keenly the vows which you do not -comprehend, as you feel the duties which she cannot understand. She -still says she will fly with you, even after I have reminded her of the -holy commands of the church; she will still fly with you because of her -promise; but she is very unhappy about it." - -Strawbridge looked up. - -"Is Dolores unhappy about ... eloping?" - -"Very." - -"Why--Good God!--I don't want to make her unhappy!" - -"I know you don't, my son; I think there is something very high and -fine in both of you. Suppose we walk over and see Dolores, and talk it -over with her." - -"Where to, Father?" - -"To the cathedral. Dolores is still in the cathedral. You can have -privacy there." - -The salesman got up unsteadily. The priest took his arm, and together -the two men walked out of the palace. As they passed out at the east -entrance, Strawbridge glanced down at the river. Just beneath the -piazza a little fish-boat lay moored to the bank. It had been scrubbed -and sanded until it gleamed in the sunshine, as white as a bone. - - -An intermezzo of thoughts danced through the drummer's head as he -accompanied the priest, for his final talk with Dolores. He began to -suspect that Father Benicio had used the order for the rifles quite as -adroitly, to separate him from the señora, as he had used the nun's -gown to withdraw the Spanish girl from the bed of General Fombombo. It -was the same kind of stratagem, the same kind of hateful cleverness in -pulling just the right strings in human beings to move them toward his -own ends. - -As the two men walked toward the cathedral, Strawbridge looked at the -ascetic face of the father, the precise stock about his neck, and -his delicate fingers smoothing down the girdle of his cassock. The -drummer studied him angrily, and made mental surges to shake loose -from this order for rifles and recover his moral right to Dolores -again. Moreover, he was uneasy about the approaching interview with -the Spanish girl. He began thinking what he would say. He massed his -arguments for elopement just as he always massed his selling points -before calling on a prospective buyer. He would bring her to his side -by the verve and swing of his attack. - -In the entrance of the cathedral, the priest dipped his finger in the -shell font and crossed himself. Then both men reduced their footfalls -almost to silence and moved along the left aisle in front of a row of -chapels. The drummer could half see their crosses and passions in the -dusky light of the church. Here and there, over the shadowy building, -knelt men and women at their devotions. The pleasant smell of incense -filled nave and aisles. From the high altar came the monotone of a -priest at his prayers. The ensemble softened the drummer's mood. -Involuntarily his thoughts began to throw out those filaments of -sentiment toward the past, toward the future, which religious buildings -invariably evoke. It loosened his self-centeredness. It tended to strew -his entity through time and eternity. It whispered to him that he -had not always been what he was, nor would he always be. His excited -nerves felt this influence, and he tried to resist it. He tried to -brace himself against it. He swore mentally and told himself that he -ought to stop where he was, that he ought to go no farther into this -softening, deorienting building. He tried to re-collect his arguments -for elopement. - -Father Benicio was pointing. - -"She is there, in the chapel of the Last Supper." - -The altar of the chapel of the Last Supper was a rich dull sheen of -gold from carpet to ceiling. Strawbridge was dimly aware of a soft -harmony of color on the left wall leading to this altar. It was the -great picture which illustrates the chapel, but the drummer did not -observe this. His whole attention was concentrated on a slender black -figure which knelt before the center of the huge altar. The golden -background seemed to set forth with an exquisite pathos her sadness and -sweetness and trustfulness. Strawbridge felt a profound impulse to stop -and pick her up in his arms and bring all of her unhappiness to an end. -She had been so miserable in her loveless marriage, her lonely life in -the palace, the savage and cruel milieu into which she had been cast; -and now, just as love and opportunity had come into her life, for the -church, the church which she had clung to for succor, through all these -years--for this church to lift its hand and forbid her--that was too -much; that was more than human nature could endure! - -The drummer caught the priest's arm. - -"Look here, Father Benicio," he whispered shakily, "this don't go. I'm -going to take her out of here! You needn't talk. I don't give a damn -what you say; not a damn! Not a damn!" He accented each oath with a -grip in the tender place inside the priest's upper arm. Tears stung the -drummer's eyes. - -Hearing the murmur, the girl turned. Her face was tremulous, and, at -the sight of the priest her poor composure gave way. She stretched out -her arms. - -"Oh, Father, I ... I can't do it! Oh, kind Father, forgive me this one -great and mortal sin and I will be the meanest servant of our holy -church all the rest of my life! Good Father Benicio, you know I am no -wife! Sweet Father, do pray for me and let me go!" She caught the -priest's hand, kissing it over and over and wetting it with her tears. - -"Listen here!" gulped Strawbridge. "Just go, Dolores! Why--God damn -it!--just get up and go!" - -The priest made a gesture. - -"Listen, my children. Let us think seriously. You are passion-torn -now, but have you not heard that he that loseth his life shall find -it? Neither of you came into the world of your own will, nor for your -own pleasure. You came in God's good time, to serve His ends for His -glory." The father crossed himself with his right hand while his left -retained the fingers of the kneeling girl. - -"My dear daughter Dolores, have I not explained to you time on time the -depth and sweetness of renunciation? Only that which you renounce shall -you preserve. - -"We Spaniards, my child, have always lived by a great mystical -apprehension of God through the spirit of renunciation. It is the -life-breath of the greatest nation in the world. You, my daughter, are -a Spanish woman and a Catholic communicant. It is impossible for you -to act in any other way and gain happiness. The anguish which you feel -this moment is nothing to the lifelong fires of remorse which would -burn in your heart. This moment is the parting of the ways in your -life. It is impossible for you to do aught but remain pure and faithful -and loyal." - -The father paused a moment and continued: - -"And this good youth who loves you, Dolores--he comes from a distant -people, and the teachings of his people are very like our own. They -instill into the hearts of their men their duty to support one another -in the market-place, just as it is the precept of us Spanish to -support one another in the temple. But with him, as with us, this is a -religion. It is the object of our renunciations. It is that for which -we deny ourselves, for which we would give our strength, our patience, -our sacrifices, our lives. If you cause this boy to break faith -with his market-place, Dolores, you will have destroyed the man you -worship. And, my dear son Tomas, if you take away from Dolores the holy -sacraments which support her life, you can never have one unsullied -caress from the woman you adore. How well I know it is not in your -hearts to blast and destroy each other!" - -Father Benicio looked with sad eyes at the lovers. Then he lifted the -cross which hung about his neck, and concluded solemnly: - -"Now may the Holy Saints guard and direct you, my most dear children, -and lead you into paths of final peace and happiness." He made the sign -of the cross above their heads, turned, and moved silently from the -chapel. - -The drummer stood mute near the altar where the girl knelt. In his -heart he acknowledged the rightness of the priest. He essayed some -clumsy words to express what he felt. - -"Dolores," he whispered, "do you think?... Is what the father said?... -I don't mean myself; I mean you.... It doesn't make any difference -about me, but ... oh, Dolores!..." - -The girl was pallid but quite composed. She seemed to be staring into -some far distance with her slightly unfocused eyes. - -"_Sí_, señor," she whispered, with a long exhalation, "Father Benicio -is a very wise man." - -Above the two on the left wall of the chapel shone the sad radiance -of Michelena's "Last Supper." In the center of the picture stands the -Christ, and behind him, seen through the archway of an open window, -gleams the soft radiance of a moonlit landscape. The rising moon forms -a halo for his head. He is breaking the bread and giving it to his -apostles to eat; to James and Jude, to Peter and Thomas, and to John, -his beloved. And as he giveth it he sayeth unto them, "This is my body -which ye eat, and this cup, which I give ye to drink, is my blood." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -Father Benicio had, as men say, convinced the head of Thomas -Strawbridge but not his heart. As the drummer moved about his room in -the palace, packing his belongings, the thought of resigning Dolores, -on whatever moral grounds, filled him with a sense of ghastly loss. The -thing seemed impossible. It seemed unbelievable that Dolores was in -an adjoining room, and that presently he would go away and they would -never see each other again. - -He went on with his packing, mechanically, with a kind of shocked -sensation at this impossible thing. His hands did their work with the -meticulous care of a traveling salesman, a part of whose trade is to -pack well. He folded each tie, shirt, sock precisely so, arranging them -in his suitcases in smooth layers, with their accessibility determined -by their frequency of use. - -At Father Benicio's suggestion, Strawbridge was moving his quarters -from the palace to the priests' house in the rear of the cathedral. It -would save the lovers the pain and stress of seeing each other daily, -so the father explained, and Strawbridge was going. He would remain -with the ecclesiastic until the flotilla arrived, and then he would -embark for Rio with the gold and barter which had been conscripted in -San Geronimo. - -The _griffe_ girl helped him in his packing. She assisted where his -wounded hand failed. She knelt on his bags and pulled home their -straps. For some time the two worked silently, then the servant broke -into sounds that resembled low, quick laughter. The drummer looked -at her with a feeling of dull reproach, when he perceived that this -was her method of sobbing. Her sympathy unmanned the convalescent. He -touched her shoulder as she worked beside him, and said in uncertain -tones: - -"Don't cry, _chica_; it's all right; it's for the best; it's all for -the best." And his sympathy, reacting on her, drove the little creature -into more uncontrollable outbursts than ever. - -Half an hour later the porters came for his bags. He possessed five -bags, and five men were conscripted to carry them. They filed into the -palace and stood for a moment looking at the room, at Strawbridge, at -the bags, evidently speculating on the size of their gratuities. Then -they hoisted the bags atop their dirty red caps and moved single file -out through the corridor, down the transverse gallery, and so through -the side entrance toward the plaza. - -As one of the palace guards closed the door behind them, Strawbridge -lingered a moment, looking back at it. His mood invested the door with -something unusual. It seemed to have developed a personality of its -own. It closed him out definitely. It shut in Dolores. Its finality -swamped an irrational hope which, until that moment, Strawbridge was -not conscious had existed in his heart. Until that very moment he -had hoped for some unexpected event to occur which would prevent his -final departure. He did not know what he had expected, but something, -somehow, a softening, an amelioration.... The bolts of the palace door -rattled noisily into place. - -The porters moved slowly away, single file, through the sunshine. The -drummer turned and followed them. He thought of the priest, of the -priest's homily, but nevertheless as he walked along there grew in his -mind a feeling of guilt, of some sort of basal unrighteousness. He -ought not to do this thing--walk away and leave Dolores like this. It -was a kind of desertion. During his stay at the palace both he and the -girl had come to base their whole structure of future happiness upon -their mutual relations. Now he was judging and condemning them both, -the half judging the whole. - -And it was more than Dolores whom he was banning. The Spanish girl had -come to imply to him a home. He was deserting that, too. It was no -such home as the salesman had ever known. As child and boy he had been -reared in the hurly-burly of a middle-class home in Keokuk, wherein he -found the bustle of a market stall. It was a place of endless work and -tasks and runnings to and fro. He had supposed homes to be by nature -rattling and bustling, until Dolores and her Latin surroundings brought -to him intimations of a place of quietude and sweetness such as he had -never imagined. - -Strawbridge had been, as they say, in love before. But his American -sweethearts always suggested to him comrades in sport, partners at a -dance, fellow enthusiasts over moving pictures and jazz; they did not -suggest quietude, or homes, or babies. Indeed, their hotly pursued -pleasures made babies seem rather the absurd accidents of dual living -than the end of matrimony. - -With Dolores Fombombo, Strawbridge felt the continual implication of -motherhood. In the tenderer moments of his passion, he built a sort -of romance home about this dark-haired woman who could read Spanish -plays and talk with curious wisdom about marriage, life, and art. These -were minor charms. In the heart of his vision always shone a picture -of Dolores with a baby at her bosom. He always saw, as clearly as in a -hallucination, the soft contours of her breast yearning to its little -pink mouth, and the bend of her dark crowned head above its dimpled -tininess. It was this and all the long covenant of grandchildren and -great-grandchildren which Strawbridge was abandoning as he passed -through the side exit of the palace, and the doors shut to and the -bolts shot fast, after him. - -The salesman walked slowly after his porters, around the public -gardens, to the priests' house. He was a drummer again. Once more he -had lapsed into the raw, nomadic life of a traveling salesman, with its -hurry, its careless and casual acquaintances, its mechanical optimism, -its worn jests, its empty routine, its devastating dullness, and its -petty obscenities. In point of fact, he was a wealthy drummer, one -who at a lucky stroke had sold a large order and had gained a swollen -commission. He was rich enough now to buy the home and the motor and -the woman which he had described to Dolores. - - -The priests' house was the largest and finest of that proliferation of -buildings which clung about the skirts of the cathedral. It was two -stories in height, and built of stone. Its flat roof reached to about -one third of the height of the cathedral walls. The motif of the green -carving over the big double door was a cross. A horse and cab always -stood in the sunshine before the house, for the use of his Grace the -Bishop, Father Honario. Almoners and donors came and went, all day -long, to and from the priests' house. Here the bishopric received fees -from the rents of ecclesiastical properties, tithes, the church taxes, -endowments for masses, and what not. It was a clearing-house for the -ghostly ministrations which the priests performed in the parish; it was -the go-between twixt the market-place and the millennium. - -The look of the house managed to convey an impression of this dual -service. Its façade was a flat, dignified stone, plastered in yellow -and relieved by the single dull-green carving over the door. The -windows were small, barred, and as unrevealing as the face of the -priests themselves. The place had, somehow, a look of wealth and -penance. One felt that dignitaries and beggars, pain and pleasure, -death and riches were received with an equal hand in this imperturbable -house. The most casual glance told that no woman lived within its -walls. - -Strawbridge rang the bell, and his porters lined up patiently in the -sunshine. An old man with a twist in his neck opened the door, glanced -obliquely at the visitors, and inquired what was wanted. Strawbridge -gave the name of Father Benicio. The wry-necked one nodded, and closed -the door, and Strawbridge could hear him shuffling down the hall. The -sick man stood silently in the heat outside the enigmatic façade. At -a faint clinking he looked around and saw the cab-horse swinging its -head for a momentary riddance of flies. The drummer continued gazing -vacantly at the swarming pests as they resettled in the corners of the -horse's eyes and on the sag of its tremulous lips. - -The door opened and Father Benicio stood to one side to allow the file -to enter. The porters got under way patiently. The priest spoke to -Strawbridge, in the tones one uses to a man who has suffered some great -calamity. He told him his room was ready and that he hoped the drummer -would feel that the bishopric was his own home. - -The priest led the way through a short passage, to an interior doorway. -This gave on a large, hot room screened off from a patio. Through an -open door on the left, Strawbridge saw a large, somberly furnished room -with an altar occupying one end and on the side walls old-fashioned -paintings of men in ecclesiastical garb. He followed the priest past -this door and along a very narrow passage flanked on both sides by -small monastic cubicles. Into one of these the father ushered the -drummer. Its interior was finished in roughly dressed stone covered -with plaster. An iron bed, an unpainted table, bowl, pitcher, and an -extra calabash of water for bathing furnished the cubicle. Over the bed -hung a little bronze crucifix with a half-burned candle in a sconce -under it. One narrow window, set high and deeply recessed in the stone -wall, and with the flat iron bars of a prison across it, furnished -light and air. - -As the porters set down the bags, they crossed themselves, and they -reverently bowed and kissed the father's hand as they passed out. When -they were gone the American stood in the middle of the floor, looking -grayly at his new quarters. He smiled faintly at the priest. - -"This is a funny place for me to come to, Father Benicio." - -"I hope you may find peace here, my son." - -"Why, ... ye-e-s ..." assented Strawbridge, vaguely. The words lingered -in his thoughts a moment. "Find peace...." The phrase really held no -signification for him. Weary from his exertions, the sick man sat down -on the side of the bed. When he touched the mattress he was surprised -to find it stuffed with straw. - -"That," explained his host, gravely, "is to remind us of One who was -born in a manger, my son." He glanced toward the crucifix and bowed his -head. - -The drummer looked at the little bronze carving and the half-burned -candle below it. The world of thought and emotion which the image -symbolized was utterly foreign to him. Now this supporting symbol -of the straw in his bed aroused in him a faint curiosity. He put a -question to the priest, with the simplicity of his kind: - -"You talking about this bringing me peace.... How can it bring anybody -peace? What's the idea?" - -Father Benicio answered him just as simply and fundamentally: - -"You must know that Christ died for your sins, my son." - -"M--y-e-s," admitted the American, without conviction. He had -heard that phrase all his life, from Salvation Army workers, from -revivalists, from country preachers. It seemed to him to be something -they interjected into their homilies at intervals, which meant nothing -at all. - -Father Benicio stood studying the drummer. He went on carefully: - -"Now that you are so deeply hurt, my son, you can carry your wounds to -Him in meditation and have them healed. You remember that He healed the -maimed, the halt, and the blind on the shores of Galilee. He forgave -the woman of Samaria. He is just as great and merciful at this moment, -my son, here in this cubicle, as He was two thousand years ago. If you -will only break your heart before Him, if you will acknowledge yourself -sinful and unworthy, then the blessed saints will take away your -griefs, and into your heart will descend the dove." - -To Strawbridge this mysticism was simple confusion. Doves and broken -hearts--they conveyed no idea whatever. He said to the priest: - -"I don't see what my sinfulness has to do with the señora. Anyway, I am -not particularly sinful. Outside of smoking and cursing ... I do curse -a good deal, but it is just a way I have. I don't mean anything by it." - -"I know you do not steal nor commit perjury, Señor Strawbridge, and -your profanity is perhaps venial, but you were about to commit a mortal -sin; and, to judge from your state of mind, I believe you have already." - -"I have already what?" - -"Surrendered yourself to the desires of your body." - -The drummer's voice became instantly angry: - -"With the señora?" - -Father Benicio held up a hand. - -"I should loathe to think that. In fact, it would be impossible for -me to think it. I have known Dolores for years, as her confessor. God -in His providence has seen fit to visit her sweetness and gentleness -with great distresses...." The priest's voice wavered. For a moment he -ceased talking, and then explained simply: "I meant you had received -other women into your life, Señor Strawbridge." - -Strawbridge laid his hands down in his lap and moistened his lips. The -silence became uncomfortable. - -"Well, ... yes ... naturally." - -"You have persistently sinned." - -"Oh, I ... I haven't been so bad about women," defended the drummer, -earnestly; "just one now and then. I'm willing to put my record against -most men's. I think you'd say I was a pretty decent sort of chap." - -The priest looked at him. - -"You seduced a woman now and then--and don't think you have sinned...." - -Strawbridge had an uncomfortable feeling that his face was growing hot. - -"They were not the sort you _seduce_," he accented in annoyance; "they -were the sort you pay. I wouldn't seduce any girl who ... who was a -virgin. That ... that would be a little too bad." - -He was trembling internally. Under the priest's questioning there -gradually compiled within him a sense of guilt. It was an extraordinary -feeling. For years at a stretch he had never once thought of his -goodness or his badness. Now, in Strawbridge's ache for the señora, the -priest brought up this utterly irrelevant and painful experience. The -ascetic, however, continued to regard the drummer gravely. - -"It seems to me, my son, if you thought your acts were harmless -heretofore, yet surely, in the light of your affection for Doña Dolores -Fombombo, you must see that you have lived sinfully. Do you not know -that at heart these women whom you paid were much like the señora, -only they were weaker, and tread bitterer paths? Is there any real -difference between giving a woman her first stain, and giving her the -last pollution that destroys her! If you can imagine the señora flung -about the streets, defiled, mocked, and paid for, do you think she -would be any more pitiful than any other woman? A human soul is a human -soul, my dear son." - -A distressful feeling arose in Strawbridge at this renaissance of -his transgressions. For some reason the priest's words aroused with -painful distinctness the memory of his first impurity. It had been with -a hoyden, boyish girl with whom he had been skating at dusk on the -cement walks in the park. He recalled the heavy syringa bushes, and how -suddenly she had begun to cry, and how frightened and ashamed he had -been. He remembered how he took off his skates because they made too -much noise, and hurried silently home by back alleys, under a profound -sense of shame and guilt. And that girl had been a virgin. He had -deceived the priest. Now, as he sat on his bed in the cubicle, he felt -a renewal of all the shame and guiltiness occasioned by that distant -act of his boyhood. He wondered fearfully what had become of Daisy. -He could see her distinctly, sitting on the grass, twisting her hands -together and sobbing heartbrokenly for the evil which had befallen her. - -Father Benicio stood watching his face during these melancholy memories. - -"When you reflect on these transgressions, my son, then you will thank -God a hundred times that you escaped leading the woman you love into a -life of adultery." - -"But, Father," asked Strawbridge, unsteadily, "what is going to become -of her!" - -"What do you mean!" - -"I mean, in this land of murder and crime what will become of Dolores?" - -"Ah, my son, that lies with God." The priest crossed himself. - -"Yes, I know, but...." To Strawbridge the priest's phrase meant it lay -with chance, that nothing watched over the Spanish girl, but he could -not profess such a sentiment to Father Benicio. - -"She will be safe, my son." - -"Are you sure, Father?" - -"I am quite sure, my son." - -"But something could so easily happen to her. Everything is so -uncertain here. You continually feel that it is all going to ruin. Why, -in San Geronimo I saw women shot--shot down. I saw a girl killed in her -window. How in God's name am I going away and leave Dolores where--" - -"Stop! Do you think yourself more powerful than God? Do you doubt He -can protect her body if it pleases Him? Or if He chose to lay her body -aside, would she not be still more safe?" - -The priest's earnestness and simplicity brought Strawbridge a brief -illusion that life did not end with his body, but that it stretched out -in some mysterious sunshine beyond the physical facts of Canalejos, of -Rio Negro, and, indeed, of the whole world. The bodies of men and women -had an appearance of shells which contained reality and timelessness. -And as for Dolores's body, that was a small and a passing thing. - -Father Benicio moved toward the door, and again invoked Strawbridge to -meditation and repentance. When the priest had vanished, the drummer's -apprehension of the other world lingered a few minutes like a mirage; -then it too disappeared. The sins which Father Benicio had recalled -so vividly and which he had counseled Strawbridge to meditate upon -presently faded into subconsciousness as having no connection with his -present life, and his thoughts came back to Dolores. - -For some time these thoughts held no definition, but formed a vague, -miserable mood, with the señora as the central association. - -The American restlessly pulled his straw bolster to the foot of the -bed, lay back on it with his legs hanging off, and gave himself up to -staring at the little bronze Christ and the candle. The crucifix held -dull high lights which focused his gaze. - -Presently he found himself reconstructing his whole intercourse with -the señora, from the very first night they had met. He wondered what he -could have done to save their relations from this shattering wreck. It -all appeared natural and inevitable. - - -It seemed to Strawbridge that their undoing really began with -Dolores, when she confessed their plans to the priest. The American -had had an idea that a priest merely heard a confession and remained -entirely inactive; just as one might drop a note in a letter-box, -that would end the matter; but Father Benicio had acted promptly and -with extraordinary insight. He had seized on exactly the implement -to persuade the drummer. Only now did Strawbridge realize how astute -the priest had been in hitting on the rifles. The drummer pulled his -bolster, to give his head a cool place to lie on. He drew a deep sigh, -and began once more at his point of departure, searching for a flaw in -his conduct. The meeting ... the breakfast ... the piazza.... Here his -brain skipped an interval, and he wondered if he could not have eloped -with the señora and still have obtained the order for rifles. He took -the point up carefully. The dictator needed the arms; Dolores was a -matter of indifference to the dictator. He would hardly have allowed -her abduction to stand in the way of a trade. - -The drummer began casting about in his mind for a safe way in which -he might have abducted the señora and still have sold the rifles. -The Tollivers might have helped him. If he and Dolores had been able -to reach the English ranch, they could have slipped into federal -territory while George Tolliver negotiated the trade. Strawbridge -moved his pillow restlessly, and wondered why he had not done that. He -lay thinking hard, with his eyes fixed on the shining points of the -crucifix. - -Lubito had been a possibility. If Strawbridge had explained everything -to Lubito, with the bull-fighter's help he could have pushed the -whole matter through during the afternoon before, instead of waiting -over-night and allowing Dolores to trap them by a confession to the -priest. With Lubito they could have fled to San Geronimo, and the -torero could have brought back a letter arranging the order for rifles. -But because he had not thought of these simple expedients, he would -have to travel to the ends of the earth, while she, the woman he loved -and who loved him, would be kept by the dictator to shame, or to use, -as he saw fit. - -The drummer writhed and clutched an edge of the straw mattress. He -stared with a suffering face at the crucifix. Out of the depth of his -soul he was repenting his sins. For what are sins but the mistakes -which have worked pain in a man's life? And what is repentance but -grief and a turning away from those mistakes? The only difference -between the repentance of a saint and the chagrin of a cutpurse caught -in the toils of the law, is the class of mistakes in their lives which -brings them pain, and from which, in spirit, they turn. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -At some point in his vigil Strawbridge must have gone to sleep, -for at some other point he awoke with a start. He thought that he -was in a small-town hotel, and that the night clerk had allowed -him to oversleep. He reached out, expecting to touch a chairful of -clothes, when he discovered that he was already dressed. Then in the -darkness above him he saw a lighted candle and a crucifix. Only these -two objects were visible, and they stood out, swimming in a black -immensity. They put to flight all theories of locality. He sat staring -at the candle and the cross, trying to orient himself when, eerily, -the darkness about him seemed to move, to fashion itself into his true -surroundings. He was again in a cubicle in the priests' house. - -Now that he had placed himself, he knew what had aroused him. It was -his engagement to fly with the señora, which the priest had set aside. -In the profound stillness of the stone chamber he sat brooding on the -fact that on this very night he would have embarked with Dolores on the -black reaches of the Rio Negro. Perhaps he would already have started. - -At the thought he fumbled beneath his pillow, drew out his watch, then -got up, pinched the shroud off the candle, and looked at the time. What -he saw was the result of the simplest psychology, but it filled the -American with a sense of the uncanny. He had waked precisely on the dot -of eleven, on the very moment of his engagement to meet the señora. The -coincidence seemed to the drummer portentous. It was a signal, from -some ghostly influence, for him to pursue his plans; why else should -he have awaked at exactly the appointed hour! - -He stood beside his bed, watching the minute hand creep slowly past the -dot. He knew that at the palace Dolores also was looking at the hand -of her watch; he knew that she, too, was filled with the same violent -urgency which moved him, that her access of formal morality must, like -his own, have waned under the surge and desire of the night. - -In the dim light he saw his bags which the porters had brought. He -moved across, chose the one which contained the canvas roll prepared -against his voyage, and silently opened it. He drew out the package. -His heart beat; his lips grew dry. He listened as if he were robbing -the suitcases. Once or twice he hurt his sore hand, but he hardly -noticed it. When he had his roll he looked at the watch again. It was -two minutes past eleven. - -The drummer wore American shoes with rubber heels. He stepped -noiselessly into the passageway and moved toward the entrance. He saw a -dim illumination in the large room latticed off from the patio. The air -in the house was still warm. He moved forward carefully, hoping to find -no one in the faintly lighted chamber. He was perhaps half-way down -the narrow passage when suddenly a tremendous clangor filled the whole -house. It roared and boomed with gigantic reverberations. The very -walls seemed shaken with it. Strawbridge almost dropped his bundle. -It was an alarm because he had stolen out of his room. It was some -damnable device of Father Benicio, who would shock the whole city with -sound if he but moved. But a moment's saner thought told him it was the -carillon of the cathedral, ringing for some nocturnal mass. - -The clangor had hardly died away in heavy, monotonous strokes when the -whole house was filled with a sense of movement--a rustling of straw -mattresses, the shuffle of alpargatas, the faintly vocalized yawns of -waking men. A little later, robed figures came out of the different -cubicles, bearing candles. - -Each sleepy priest bore his candle high, so its rays fell on his -shaven poll and on the shoulders and breast of his cassock; the rest -was lost in shadows. They might have been a company of heads and -shoulders floating about in darkness. Some yawned patiently; others -stretched, rubbed their eyes, and otherwise dispelled their drowsiness. -They whispered a little among themselves, and soon an air of concern -animated the whole brotherhood. - -As Strawbridge stood with his bundle, hemmed in by priests behind and -before, a hand was placed on his arm. - -"Are you going into the cathedral, my son?" asked Father Benicio's -voice; "we are going to hold a mass for the dead." - -The salesman was taken aback. - -"For the dead?" he aspirated. - -"Some one has died in La Fortuna. Father Jaíme was on watch, and he has -just seen a corpse thrown into the river." - -Strawbridge was shocked; he was more deeply shocked that this thing had -happened on the very night and at the very hour when he and the señora -would have made their flight. He fancied the soldiers coming down to -the water's edge with a dead man at the moment he and the Spanish girl -were passing in their boat. What a grim precursor of their honeymoon! - -"Did they murder him?" he queried. - -"I don't know. He may have died of disease or as a result of former -torture." - -The American moistened his lips. - -To torture, to murder, to fling their victims into the river! The -horror of Rio Negro, the misery of all Venezuela jellied around the -drummer's heart. - -"Are you going with us into the cathedral?" questioned the priest again. - -The drummer was seized by a revulsion to all his slynesses and -unstraightforwardness. - -"Why, no, Father," he said in a tired voice. "I'm going back to the -_palacio_. I can't stick it out any longer. I was just going back when -those bells broke loose and--" - -"What are you going to do there, my son?" interposed the priest. - -"I ... well, I'm going to try to get the señora to go with me, after -all...." He paused, looking at the father, and added with a touch of -defiance: "All this stuff about heaven and hell--that's all right -for them that like it. I don't mean to be disrespectful to any -man's religion. I was brought up to respect every faith--Christian, -Mohammedan, Buddhist. They're all all right if a man lives up to 'em," -the American finished his strange declaration of catholicity. He felt -better now that he had told the priest of his intentions. He let his -bundle down frankly into his good hand, and nodded at the father. -"Well, good-by, and good luck. I thank you for what you tried to do for -me. I know your intentions were of the best. So long," and he turned -away. - -The priest had stood perfectly still through this outburst, looking -with an impassive face at the American. Now he took a step after -Strawbridge and touched his arm. - -"My son, you can't take her now," he said in a strange voice. - -Something in his manner stopped the drummer, puzzled him and filled him -with a vague apprehension. - -"Why?" - -"She is out of your reach forever." - -The drummer's eyes widened, his mouth dropped open. - -"You ... you don't mean she is dead?" he whispered. - -"She is to you. This afternoon she entered her novitiate as a Sister of -Mercy." - -The American's bowels seemed to sag inside of him. A weak feeling -flooded his body and shook his knees. - -"Dolores is going to be a nun!" - -"My son, what other place was there for so bruised a heart? Only our -holy church can offer her peace." - -Strawbridge stood breathing heavily through his open mouth. The priests -had formed a line, and now they were marching through a door which led -directly into the cathedral. Father Benicio bowed his head and turned -to fall into the last place in the rank. The line of candle-bearers -disappeared one by one into the dark vastitude of the cathedral. -The American stood motionless in the faintly lighted room, watching -them go. Presently from afar off he could hear the first melancholy -responses of a mass for the repose of the dead. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - - -The novitiate of Dolores Fombombo was Fortune's shrewdest thrust at -Thomas Strawbridge. After that he stayed on at the priests' house -because it ceased to make any difference to him where he domiciled. He -spent most of his days there with the priests, sitting in the patio or -lying on his straw bed in the cubicle. Now and then, when he saw his -bags, he would think to himself, "I ought to take some samples and my -order-book and canvass this town again." At other times he would think, -"I ought to write a report to my house." But his feeling of "oughtness" -applied to a perfectly empty motor-impulse for execution. It was -precisely as if he were a figure without any will whatsoever. - -Strangely, he did not think over-much of Dolores. Occasionally, when -his mind made a movement toward her, he had a terrifying feeling as if -some chasm were opening before him. Then, almost immediately, it seemed -as if his brain closed gently shut, the chasm vanished, and with it all -thought of the girl. To say that he grieved for her would be untrue. He -had been numbed. - -The most trifling things were sufficient to catch the drummer's -unanchored attention. His eyes would follow the priests' cat across the -patio, or he would watch the slow march of the cathedral's shadow over -the flagstones in the _calle_. - -He became acquainted with the priests who were domiciled in the -building. These were his Grace the Bishop, Father Honario, a big, -sleek, solemn man with swinging jowls that were bluish from a -closely shaved beard. Father Roberto was a close-lipped man with a -disapproving expression. Then there was Father Pedro, a fat, unaspiring -priest, who drank enough wine at his noon meal to make him sleepy -all the afternoon. There was still a fifth priest at the house who -was not attached to the cathedral at all. This was Father Jaíme, a -sort of itinerant guest who had come to the Canalejos cathedral from -a Trappist monastery on Lake Titicaca in Peru. The bishop allowed -Father Jaíme a few pittances for holding mass at the funerals of his -humbler parishioners, and this was the only stipend he received. When -Strawbridge knew him he was trying to save sufficient money to purchase -the churchman's half-fare passage from Canalejos to Port au Spain in -Trinidad, where the Benedictines had a monastery. As far as Strawbridge -could gather, Father Jaíme was a sort of ecclesiastical tramp. - -The man who rang the cathedral bells, an office which occurred at -almost every hour of the day, was called the "Cock." His nickname -came, perhaps, from a thin, beak-like nose protruding from under the -dirty visor of an old cap. He had a Jewish appearance. He was the only -object which aroused to wrath the lethargic children of the cathedral -settlement. When the Cock appeared, the children spat at him and called -him "bloodsucker" and all manner of insulting epithets. The reason for -this contumely was that the Cock lent money in a small way, and the -hatred poor people have for a parsimonious money-lender was reflected -in their children. - -The Cock lived with a very industrious Indian wife, in one of the -adobes at the back of the cathedral. He seldom spoke to any one, -but moved gloomily on his way to and from his bells. However, once -Strawbridge did observe a visitor in the bell-ringer's hut. One day as -the salesman was walking slowly along one of the paths on the terrain -of the river, a gay figure stepped out from the blackness of the hut, -drew off his sombrero, and bowed to the American with undeniable grace. -As he bowed he exhibited a knot of hair at the back of his head. - -"How goes _el señor, mi General_!" he called warmly. "Be assured Lubito -knows your unhappiness, señor, and that you have but to lift a finger -and the sword of a bull-fighter will leap from its scabbard." He went -through the pantomime of drawing his sword, and his bold figure, set -against the darkness of the doorway, formed a picture. - -The sick man looked at him, thought of his walk with Lubito in the -plaza, Esteban's attack on General Fombombo in the palace, Madruja. -Such reminiscences were leading him straight to the señora, when some -involuntary check in his mind softly closed that stream of thought and -left the drummer staring emptily at the torero's posturing. He turned -away along the path, vaguely disturbed and unhappy. The bull-fighter -looked around and nodded knowingly to some one inside the hut. - -"_Caramba!_" he praised. "What did I tell you? Deep! Why, you can't -tell by his face that he even knows me, and yet ... we are as brothers! -What a dictator that _hombre_ will make!" - -The cathedral itself was a kind of labyrinth through which Strawbridge -sometimes wandered with a sort of dulled attention. He understood -little of the ecclesiastical symbolism in the chapels and on the high -altar, or the allegorical frescoes in the dome and pendentive. He did -peruse the fourteen stations of the passion which spaced the interior -walls of the church, and while he could not follow the details of some -of the cartoons he understood their general purport. He never entered -the chapel of the Last Supper. Something warned him from the place -where he had stood with Dolores under Michelena's great masterpiece. - -This, unfortunately, was the only worthy canvas which the cathedral of -Canalejos contained. The other chapels held staring images of one saint -or another, and near the entrance of the pile, on the right side, was -a crude picture of souls in purgatory. It was so badly done it was not -even hideous. - -The altars of the more popular saints were piled with ex-voto -offerings. These were all manner of little images, made of tin, silver, -or gold, and not much larger than a tobacco-tag. They were images of -legs, hearts, arms, feet, a little tin mule, or a tiny house. Each -one commemorated a miracle performed by the saint on whose altar it -lay. A little silver leg was probably the gift of some rheumatic whom -the good saint had cured; a mule would illustrate the gratitude of a -peon for finding a strayed burro. The simplicity and childishness of -these little gifts touched even Strawbridge; and, moreover, such an -accumulation of testimonials lent a certain air of credibility to the -power of the images in the chapels. - -Besides these offerings of gratitude, on each altar were piles -of letters asking the saint for further interventions. Once, as -Strawbridge was looking at the missives, he wondered if any real power -lay back of these stiff images of saints. Could it be that behind them -was ranged some sort of spiritual reality, with a power and a will to -soften human unhappiness? The thought stirred the benumbed heart of the -American. He stood staring up at the wooden effigy, with a notion of -adding a petition of his own to the pile on the altar. - -The thought moved him. He walked out at the side entrance of the -cathedral, into the priests' house. His legs trembled with his idea. -In his cubicle he got out pen and paper and sat down to write, -when a strange thing stopped him. All of his stationery bore the -letter-head of the Orion Arms Corporation. It struck the drummer -as somewhat incongruous to write a note to Saint John in heaven on -New York letter-heads. And now that he had started to use his own -envelops, he could not go out deliberately and purchase the big, square -Latin-American envelops such as the peons used in writing a letter to -Saint John. In brief, the sight of his matter-of-fact American paper -shattered his transitory mysticism and made it impossible. However, the -dying of this hope left the drummer grayer than ever. - -The wood-carving in the cathedral next offered itself to Strawbridge's -faint interest. The circular balustrade which led up and around one -of the columns of the nave, to the pulpit, and the canopy over the -pulpit were carved out of mahogany with the motif of pineapples and -yucca-palm. The wood was black with the centuries. Strawbridge thought -this was a defect, but when he recognized the two plants intertwined -in the carving, his discovery gave him a childish joy. It led him to -look at other work--the choir-stalls, which were not half so well done -as the pulpit; the reredos; the altar panels; the pyx. Everywhere his -eye fell he saw the labor of generations. Some were the carvings of the -Spanish artisans who came to the New World not long after Columbus; -others were the work of the Indian and negro apprentices of those -original wood-carvers. The whole rise and decline of a folk-art was -epitomized in the cathedral at Canalejos. - -About a week after Strawbridge came to the priests' house he was -walking in the cathedral one afternoon and wandered through an open -door into an anteroom full of the images which the priests used in -their processionals. It was a strange sight--the Madonnas with dust on -their gilt halos; Saint Peter holding up a tarnished key; Saint Thomas -reaching a broken finger toward the far-off wounds of Christ. These -and perhaps a dozen other dusty figures, all as large as life, were -placed helter-skelter in the storeroom, some facing one direction, -some another. Over in a corner lay three or four litters on which the -images were borne. One had a glass frame, another was draped in silks. - -The drummer stood looking curiously about him, when he heard a rustling -among the images. He moved toward the sound, and after a moment saw an -old woman dusting the statues with a brush. A second glance showed him -it was Josefa's grandmother. This dusting no doubt was a part of her -labor as a charwoman in the cathedral. - -Presently the old crone observed Strawbridge. She recognised the -American, and put down her duster. - -"_Cá!_ It is you, señor. I thought it was Filipe, come in to help me. -Have you come to tell me something?" - -Strawbridge explained that he was merely idling in the cathedral; then -he asked her how she liked her quarters by this time. - -"It keeps the rain away. Then you have nothing to tell me of poor -Josefa?" - -"No, Doña Consolacion--at least not yet," he added, in order to give -some crumbs of hope. - -The old woman mumbled her wrinkled mouth with nervousness. - -"But you will soon?" - -"I hope so, Doña Consolacion." - -"Very soon?" - -"I hope so." - -She nodded. - -"_Sí, sí_, I hope so. I pray so every night, señor, at my _oraciones_." -She gave a Virgin a stroke with her brush, then added in a whisper, -forming the words very plainly with her thin wrinkled lips, -"Who--was--it--the--soldiers--dropped--in--the--river--the--other--night?" - -The question brought the drummer a wave of surprise and revived pain. - -"I ... I don't know, señora!" - -The old woman gave up her dusting and came nearer, so she could talk in -a whisper. - -"You don't think--you don't believe i-it could h-have b-been--?" She -gasped and cut off her sentence. - -"You mean...." - -She nodded mutely, with a terrified expression in her old eyes. - -"Why, no, Doña Consolacion, I am sure it was not ... not your grandson!" - -But Doña Consolacion was peering at him, and his face was too full -of apprehension to reassure her. On the contrary, with the suspicion -of the aged she read tragedy there. She suddenly dropped her duster -and her face screwed up into the tearless grimacing which stands for -weeping with the aged. - -"Oh, _Dios mio!_ my Josefa, my poor little Josefa is gone!" She rocked -to and fro with her hands crossed over her dried breast. Suddenly -something flared up in her and she pointed at Strawbridge: "And you did -it! You killed him! It makes no difference to me if it was all a part -of a plan to free this country. I would rather have my little Josefa -than free a thousand countries!" - -Strawbridge made a gesture. - -"But listen, señora; there is no reason to think it was Josefa! He was -young and strong. He wouldn't have succumbed so quickly. There must be -hundreds of other prisoners in that jail. It is more likely one of them -has died than ... than your grandson.... Some old man whose strength -had broken down!" - -The old woman grew quieter at this reasoning, and stood looking at -Strawbridge, with her toothless lips moving in and out with her -agitated breathing. - -"Holy Mary! I hope you are right! If I only knew he was alive! But he -was young and strong, as you say.... _Cá!_ but I don't see why you -should have chosen him, Señor Strawbridge, to cast into prison, even if -it is all a part of your terrible plans." - -"But, dear Doña Consolacion," remonstrated the drummer, "it was no part -of a plan. There was no plan to it. It was simply an unfortunate move, -an accident." - -The old charwoman shook her head. - -"_Cá!_ señor! there is no use deceiving me! I am not a spy but an old -woman cast down by a tyrant. And my family have always been lovers of -freedom. My father was a Rosales." Her old voice gathered dignity at -this reference to her family, and then, nodding her head to accent -her words, she added, "And poor Ricardo, whom you had shot, Señor -Strawbridge--he was my grandnephew." - -The American stared in amazement. - -"Ricardo ... whom I had shot!" - -"_Sí_, señor--Lieutenant Rosales, whom you ordered shot in San -Geronimo. _Pues_, you need not stare so. I understand all. Lubito has -explained your deep and mysterious plans that reach all over the world. -And also Lubito explained that one cannot make an omelette without -breaking eggs. Napoleon first said that, señor; all cruel men say it. -But I do not complain. I was born a Rosales, and more than one of us -has given himself to die." - -The old woman's persistent delusion that he was some sort of -arch-plotter, assigning this and that man to his fate, filled the -drummer with dismay. - -"But señora," he began hopelessly, "how many times have I said that I -have nothing, nothing whatever to do with all this butchery! I would -not harm a soul in Rio Negro--no, not for the whole government. I would -not--" - -But the old creature shook her head, with her mouth quirked in withered -satire. - -"_Ola, señor!_" She wagged a finger. "I know, I know." She started -to stoop for her brush, but the drummer forestalled her. "I know one -little thing that tells me all, no matter what you admit or deny." - -Strawbridge looked at her. - -"What's that?" - -"I refer to...." She wagged her head vaguely and looked at the American -with narrowed and disapproving eyes. - -"What are you talking about, Doña Consolacion?" - -"I was down at the riverside on the night when the soldiers flung the -body of the dead man into the water." - -The salesman stared at her, with his brows drawn in a faint frown. - -"Well ... what of that?" - -"Oh, what of that! I was at the riverside just below the _palacio_, -Señor Strawbridge, where the white boat lay. I went down because the -Cock told me I could find some driftwood there, and I had no money to -buy charcoal...." - -The phrase "white boat" moved some memory that was battened down in -Strawbridge's heart. It gave him a ghastly sensation, as if an arm -were reaching out of a grave. And there was something disconcerting in -the rancor in the crone's voice, in the circumstantiality with which -she began her account. He stood looking at her, wondering and rather -fearing what she was about to say. - -"What's the point to this?" he hesitated at last. "What if you were at -the river--under the _palacio_?" - -The charwoman found enough spirit to shrug. - -"No matter how grand your final object may be, señor, I think that was -going a little too far. There are certain things a Spanish _caballero_ -will not do, señor--no, not though he gain all Venezuela by it!" - -The drummer took a step nearer the old woman, and looked hard at her. - -"Look here, Consolacion," he uttered in a strained voice, -"what--in--the--hell--are--you--talking--about?" - -The ancient shrugged again, and the nostrils of her hatchety old nose -dilated momentarily, then she burst out: - -"_Dios mio!_ I am talking about the señora, poor Doña Dolores, whom I -found down there--poor lamb!--frightened almost to death, and weeping. -She started to fly as I came up, but I called to her and she knew I was -a woman...." - -A horripilation went over Strawbridge. He clutched the old creature's -arm. - -"The señora!" he whispered, staring with distended eyes. "My God! you -can't mean Dolores was down there that night, on the river!" - -The hag broke into sardonic, clacking laughter. - -"No, you didn't know that! You didn't know you had a poor frightened -girl go down to the river bank and wait and pray for your coming until -it grew so light she was forced back into the _palacio_! No, you -didn't know that! Oh, to be sure, I explained to her your plans. I -told her that she was just a tiny little part; that you had killed my -grandnephew and my grandson, and now for some reason you had flung her -down in the river mud, like an old rag--you, and your great plans!" - -The old crone's tirade seemed to break loose something hot and -seething in Strawbridge's brain. The enormity of his delinquence, the -pitifulness of the girl, the rapture which might have been his! His -legs shook so that he caught at the effigy of the Blessed Virgin. But -all that remained of his mutilated hand were two fingers. These gave -way instantly, he staggered against the wooden figure, and the thing -swung slowly over and crashed on the tiles. - -The ancient shifted from the dowager back to the servant again. - -"Look! Look!" she squealed. "Oh, look what you've done! You've broken -her head!" - -The American neither saw nor heard the fall of the effigy. - -"But, señora," he stuttered, with a salty taste in his mouth, "he ... -he told me ... Father Benicio told me that she ... she had gone to a -convent!" - -The hag came out of her servant's concern for the statue and fell to -lashing again: - -"A priest told you! _Diantre!_ You believed a priest in a case like -that! Poor little dove! She did join the sisterhood, Señor Strawbridge, -but it was on the afternoon after your cruel desertion of her. What -else could she do--poor little dove!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - - -With legs that shook and hands that clutched at nothing, Strawbridge -got out of the image room into the cathedral. He screwed himself to -sufficient self-control to be silent as he shivered along the aisles, -peering into every chapel and niche for Father Benicio. He raged -internally, thinking what he would do to Father Benicio. He syncopated -his thoughts with clenching of fists, spreading of nostrils, and -muttered blasphemies. When he found the priest, he would throttle him, -beat his shaven head on the stone flags. Vibrations of wrath shook -through his chest and belly. - -He made the entire round of both aisles, and then turned automatically -into the priests' house. Opening a door, he stepped quickly into the -big room with the latticed side. He glanced about with a beating heart -and saw it was empty. He got to the entrance of the bishop's room and -looked in. Only the Christ on the cross, and the darkened pictures of -former bishops looked down on him. The drummer turned and set out up -the narrow passage, to search among the cubicles. - -At that moment a loud ringing of the gong at the outer door caught his -attention. It came in a succession of three clangorous peals, loud and -imperative. It suggested an interruption and sent Strawbridge trotting -up the passage, looking hurriedly into each cubicle. All were as -obviously empty as a cigar box. Some smelled of burned candles, one of -medicine, one or two of stale bedding. The only difference between them -was in odor. - -The doorbell clanged again, three times. Then it suddenly occurred to -Strawbridge that this might be Father Benicio, asking entrance. The -thought sent him flying to the door, with titillating nerves. He began -whispering through his dry mouth: - -"Good God, let it be that devil Benicio!" - -He stepped into the entrance and closed the inner shutter behind him. -At that moment the gong filled the closed passageway with a great -uproar. It was imperative, excited, and held the prolonged clangor of a -visitor who is at the end of his patience. - -The drummer rushed to the door and laid noiseless hands on the bolts. -He had a sensation of immense strength. He wanted not to frighten -the priest, but to let him come unwarned into his grip. Not until -Strawbridge set about drawing the bolts did he remember that he had -but one hand. A thought flickered in his head that he might need his -automatic, but it was gone almost instantly. - -The bars were hot. He could feel the heat, reflected by the panels, -of the sunshine outside. With a painful surge of expectancy he swung -open the outer shutters. In the dazzle of sunshine stood a figure who -the drummer could see was not Father Benicio. His murderous impulse -had been so sure of the priest, that he stood batting his eyes in the -glare, when he heard an excited voice gasp: - -"_Gracias á Dios!_ it's you, Señor Strawbridge! _Diantre!_ I thought I -would never get you! But--_caramba!_--you know it already! Look, look, -Esteban, how white his face is, and how bloodshot his eyes! We were two -great fools, Esteban, to imagine we could tell _el señor_ anything!" - -A second figure stepped in front of the door-casing and shrugged. - -"_Naturalmente_, Lubito, if _el Señor General_ ordered these boats up -here, he knew when they were coming." - -"But what shall we do, _mi General_?" demanded the bull-fighter, -excitedly. "Are you ready for us peons! Just a word, and we will flame -up like a bonfire!" The torero made a swift upward gesture. - -Such ejaculations and questions were enough to seize part of the -attention of the homicidal drummer. - -"What are you talking about!... Boats ... men ... peons!" - -"_Demonio!_" roared Lubito, in admiration. "Is he not as deep as the -devil's pit, Esteban! What are we talking about? _Pues, mi General_, we -are talking about your men and your boats, your guns; they are below -the rapids. They are gathering in from God knows where. When we saw -them coming, Esteban and I came running here as fast as our legs would -carry us, to know when you wanted us, here in Canalejos, to strike. Is -it now? Is this the day? Shall we set fire to hell now? How is it, _mi -General_? Now?" - -The bull-fighter's cries vibrated with a curious edge. He whipped out -an imaginary sword and saluted, tossing up his head and knot of hair. - -"What part of Canalejos do we sack first! Send me where there are -plenty of women!" - -Esteban, with his stupid peon face, stood nodding. - -"And me ... send me where I can find Madruja, _mi General_." - -By this time Strawbridge had fathomed what had set off the imaginations -of his self-appointed henchmen. He made a heavy gesture. - -"That isn't my flotilla. It's the dictator's boats, come up from Rio at -last." He stood staring at his two followers, with a new and profound -depression coming over him. "So this is the end of it! This is the -end of everything!" A great sigh burst from him. He struck his palm -miserably against his breast. "Oh, Good God! Well, I'm ready to go." - -He stumbled out of the priests' house. Each of the bewildered peons -took one of his arms, and the three men set out around the buttresses -of the cathedral and the adobe lean-tos, toward the terrain of the -river. The pain of a complete and final leave-taking of Dolores was -upon Strawbridge. The peons had not the least notion of the cause of -their master's despair. - -"But, _mi General_," demurred Lubito, uncertainly, "there are too many -canoes for the trading party; the river is black with them. _Caramba!_ -if they are not your men--" - -"_Es verdad, Señor mi General_," put in Esteban. "There are too many--" - -The peon's words were interrupted by a sharp, crashing blow from -the direction of the river. It smote the ear-drums of the three -men terrifically, and was followed by an abrupt silence. It was a -cannon-shot. At the moment the three men trotted around the last -obscuring adobe that stuck to the cathedral. On La Fortuna they saw a -puff of smoke dissolving into air, and far down below the rapids they -saw a crawling of men from a multitude of canoes--so far away that they -looked like insects. Among these insect lines forming on the shore, -Strawbridge caught the gleam of a banner. - -The cannon on La Fortuna crashed again. Soldiers went marching out of -the fort, toward the foot of the rapids. They went down the terrain of -the river at a double-quick. - -A feeling of movement and stir spread over the city. Almost before -Strawbridge knew it, the whole terrain on which he stood was covered -with denizens of the adobes. The Cock came out, peered through the -sunshine, then darted back into his inky hut and reappeared with an -extraordinary single-barreled, muzzle-loading pistol and a dagger. Men -and women came running out of the plaza, to the riverside, for a view. - -Lubito clutched the drummer's arm. - -"You see, _mi General_, it is your men attacking. What shall I do? -Gather up my men and advance?" - -Some obscure cerebration caused Strawbridge to answer, "No, ... no, not -now. Wait till we see how this goes!" - -The bull-fighter snapped his fingers in admiration. - -"_Caramba_, Esteban!" he cried above the noise of the gathering crowd. -"What calmness! This is the strategy of a Napoleon!" - -By this time the gun on La Fortuna was firing regularly, and far down -the river, among the insects, little plumes of smoke showed where the -shells were bursting. - -Strawbridge left the river bank and made his way through the crowd, -toward the plaza. He was filled with a rising anxiety for the señora. -He wondered where she was, to what convent she had retired. He supposed -that she would be safe, but she would surely be frightened. The drummer -went hurrying eastward through a small _calle_, glancing to right and -to left, half expecting to see the señora's face at some barred window. - -Along the thoroughfares natives were darting about, salvaging their -household goods as if from a fire. Women and children, with burdens on -their backs, turned out into the streets and went hurrying along, urged -by the groaning of cannon and an occasional dry rattle of musketry. - -This continued from street to street, and by the time the drummer -reached the plaza, the square was already crowded with fugitives, all -of whom were flowing westward, past the palace and the state buildings, -toward the outskirts of town and the llanos. The mass moved slowly and -in great disorder. Mules and donkeys went past, laden with household -goods; carts containing food, _mosquiteros_, calabashes, invalided -persons. Pedestrians struggled along under huge bundles done up in -ponchos; old women carried their belongings twisted up in their skirts, -with their bare legs and feet exposed. It was an astonishing, frantic -procession, with every one struggling, pushing, cursing unfortunates -who could not move quickly. Perched on top of many a bundle rode pet -game-cocks. The shrill crowing of these fowls added a curious stridor -to the turmoil of the refugees. - -Almost every shop around the plaza was shut now. One or two doors had -been forced by looters, and the riffraff of the street eddied into -these magazines as if by some law of nature, and streamed out again -with their arms filled with spoil. - -In the midst of this pillaging and flight, a murmur, which swiftly rose -to cries, oaths, and shouts of anguish, came from the direction of -the palace. It grew louder and louder, and presently the drummer was -aware that the crowd about him was solidifying and surging backward. He -tried to find out what was the matter, but in the uproar he could ask -nothing. Within the space of a minute he was caught in a dense jam and -had to struggle merely to keep his feet. He held his sore hand up, to -prevent its being hurt, and tried to push his way in some direction, -but men and women were crushing into him on every side. Then, owing to -his height, he saw the danger. Down the square the palace guards were -coming at a double-quick in the direction of the fighting. The front -ranks had leveled their bayonets to force a swift passage through the -mob. Before the steel the crowd flung itself back, shrieking in terror -and pain. The masses crushed blindly toward the sides of the square, -lost their bundles, upset carts, bastinadoed their burros, and flung -themselves, in compact masses, away from the line of march. - -As the guards plowed down the plaza, Strawbridge felt himself crushed -one way, then another; and then suddenly a line of division opened and -left him with half a dozen others directly in the middle of the way. He -was in a narrow alley through which the bayonets were double-quicking. -He had that terrible sensation of being unable to move in either -direction. He stood dodging in a mad contra-dance, then he seemed lost; -he dashed to one side and tried to press his body into a solid wall of -flesh. He might as well have tried to sink into a bank of rubber. He -stood out; he was still exposed. The bristle of bayonets was right on -him. He made a last convulsive effort to merge himself, when an arm -thrust out of the mass, hooked about his waist, and from some leverage, -pried the American into a niche at the very moment the bayonets skimmed -smoothly past. - -The crush stood perfectly immobile as the rifles went by. A sweat broke -out on Strawbridge. He twisted his head to look at the palace guards. -Only a few days before, they had been little better than servants -who fetched and carried for him; now, at a cannon-shot, at a volley -of firearms, they had formed a machine which, accidentally, almost -casually, had transfixed him. - -The moment the soldiers were past, the crowd filled the _calle_ -again, struggling with greater violence than ever. A voice shouted in -Strawbridge's ear: - -"Where are you trying to go?" - -Strawbridge looked about and saw a bearded and somewhat familiar face. -It belonged to the man who had wedged him into the crowd. Then the -drummer recognized him as Dr. Delgoa, the minister of war, whom he had -seen once or twice at the palace. The doctor's face had a strained -look, and now in the press he still held Strawbridge's arm, perhaps -with an idea of directing the drummer's steps. - -"I wasn't going anywhere, specially," shouted the American. "Trying to -find out what's the trouble." - -The doctor shook his head. - -"_Diantre!_ This is terrible! Come with me; I am going to the -_palacio_. Here! Let's get into this side street. This crush!" These -exclamations were jogged out of him as he edged his body into this -and that aperture. He made way for the drummer, who followed him body -to body, and at last succeeded in pushing himself into the mouth of a -stinking little side _calle_. - -In this place the crowd dwindled to small groups and single pedestrians -who hurried back and forth with ant-like aimlessness. Dr. Delgoa rested -a moment. He wore a high hat; now he took it off, drew out a silk -handkerchief, and mopped his face and hair. Somehow he had managed to -preserve his silk hat; his black frock-coat and his pearl-gray trousers -were unrumpled despite his struggle. - -"We'll have to get away from here!" he said in a breath. "This _calle_ -will be untenable in thirty minutes.... The machine-guns...." He -started walking along the _calle_, with the stragglers. "_Caramba!_ I -wish I knew which way the cat'll jump," he puffed, drying his hatband -as he went. "One never knows what to do. I left my wife at home. Of -course the telephones have been seized, and I can't talk to her. Where -are you going, Señor Strawbridge?" He had evidently forgotten the -drummer's answer to this same question a minute or two before. - -"I'm trying to find out what caused this." The American looked back and -listened to the inarticulate roar of the mob thundering in the tympanum -of the narrow street. - -Dr. Delgoa started to explain, but at that moment out of a back door of -a shop bundled an old woman with a great pile of fiber hammocks. The -men collided with her. The old creature spat invectives. She twisted -about, saw who had struck her, and became more furious. - -"It's that thief Delgoa! That bloodsucker Delgoa! May a ray of God -blast your entrails! You stole every centavo my shop could earn, you -and your cursed police! May you be bayoneted through the liver!" - -Her anathemas were finally lost in the uproar. They struck coldly on -the drummer's nerves in so perilous a situation, but Delgoa paid no -attention to her. He began shaking his head, with his distressed look. - -"If a man could only tell which way it is going to go." - -"Who is it fighting us?" called Strawbridge. "Have the federal forces -suddenly got up here?" - -Delgoa looked around at him, rather surprised. - -"No, it's Saturnino." - -Strawbridge stared, thunderstruck. - -"Saturnino--fighting us!" - -"Yes, yes. Been brewing a long time. Very ambitious man. Heretofore the -general has handled him somehow, through the influence of the general's -wife. Now I understand she has entered a convent, and of course--" the -Minister made a hopeless gesture--"of course that unchained hell." - -A wide dismay suddenly swept over the drummer. He felt that he and all -the people in Canalejos were caught like flies in the web of Coronel -Saturnino's endless calculations. He knew that back there, in San -Geronimo, the colonel had worked out, night after night, precisely how -he would conquer this point and that redoubt; how many men it would -require to take that coign of vantage, and so on, step after step, all -the way to his goal. - -Suddenly the drummer turned to the minister. - -"Why didn't Fombombo throw the colonel into prison years ago?" - -Dr. Delgoa looked at him, his mind evidently coming back from some -painful abstraction. - -"Oh, yes.... He couldn't. Saturnino has always been a favorite with -the army. Besides, the general needed a tactician. _Diablo!_ I wish the -general had kept his wife in the _palacio_!" - -By this time the two men had come to the mouth of the little side -street, where it emptied into the main thoroughfare opposite the -palace. Delgoa held out an arm to warn the drummer, then advanced -carefully to the limit of the protecting walls and peered down the -plaza. The place was a litter of scattered goods and broken carts. Here -and there a human figure darted across the wreckage, making for some -place of safety. The crowd had struggled past and were gone. - -Just across the street the doors of the palace stood open. Four -soldiers were posted by each shutter, whose duty, evidently, was to -close the building at a moment's notice. On top of the palace roof -were lined a number of guards, and in the machicolations above the -architrave shone the muzzles of some rapid-fire guns. - -Dr. Delgoa stood in the _calle_, peering at the scene before him and -listening with all his ears. He said to Strawbridge in an apprehensive -voice: - -"The cannonading at La Fortuna has stopped." - -The drummer listened. It was true, but he had not observed the fact, -under the ceaseless tearing sound of the small arms, which was growing -louder and louder. It sounded somewhat like an approaching storm. -Delgoa waved a hopeless hand. - -"_Dios mio!_ which way will this battle go! _Canastre!_ this deciding -for your life, your property and your family!" With a tortured face he -turned to Strawbridge. "Just think, if I fail to guess the victor just -once, I go into La Fortuna, my property confiscated, and my wife...." -He snapped his fingers and flung out his hands. - -Such frank opportunism amazed the American. - -"Why--damn it, man!--stick to the side you think is right!" - -"Right! _Right!_" Delgoa laughed in a very access of irony. "My dear -_amigo_, I am a politician. I have nothing to do with--" He interrupted -himself to listen to the increased ripping and tearing of the gun fire; -then, with his head cocked sidewise, he looked steadily at Strawbridge -and whispered, "I believe Saturnino is winning...." - -The drummer was outraged. - -"Well--by God!--between the two I stand by the general!" - -"But look yonder!" The minister pointed down the plaza. "Yonder are the -guards falling back!" - -At that moment a flurry of men that looked like leaves before a wind, -whirled out of a street into the plaza and instantly settled into every -niche and crevice they could find. Almost immediately came another -whirl of men, falling back behind every makeshift ambuscade. The -minister gripped the American's arm. - -"Your general is losing; we are going to change dictators!" - -The American burst out in profanity: - -"I don't give a damn! I've always been against Saturnino! He's nothing -but a rascal, a damn clever rascal! Hasn't got a principle in him!" The -drummer shook off the doctor's arm, and next moment darted out of his -covert, toward the long flight of steps at the entrance of the palace. - -The big American's flight might have been the signal for the whole -regiment of palace guards to retreat headlong toward the _presidencia_. -Immediately a company of insurgents deployed into the square, and knelt -to fire. Even in the drummer's short sprint across the _calle_, the -attackers discharged a volley. The crash, pent up between the houses, -roared down the _calle_, and a shower of leaves and twigs fell from the -ornamental greenery in the plaza. Stone flakes leaped from the façade -of the palace; spots of dust floated up into the air along the _calle_; -the air was filled with a whining. Here and there a flying guard -stumbled in the plaza; two or three of the less severely wounded went -crawling on their hands and knees toward the side streets, to escape -the steel storm. Strawbridge dashed up the long flight of steps and was -hardly inside the recessed doors when the van of the retreating guard -began to pour up the steps into the building. - -The moment the drummer entered the palace he stepped into quietude -and order. The heavy walls reduced the rifle fire in the streets to a -mere popping. Along the passage were stationed several officers, who -directed the returning soldiers to march back into the building, toward -some objective unknown to the American. One or two of the officers -recognized Strawbridge and saluted as he entered. - -An odd feeling of home-coming visited the salesman as he stood near the -entrance. His painful week at the priests' house seemed to have dropped -out of his life. It seemed to him that the señora was still in the -music-room, that he might walk back, tap, and have her come to the door. - -Bullets were now snapping regularly at the stone façade. They reminded -Strawbridge of the first scattering drops of rain at the beginning of -a summer shower. Another batch of soldiers came running up the long -steps. One of them even laughed, and waved his cap to some one on the -roof, when at that moment he fell forward and lay twisting on the sharp -comers of the stone steps. Suddenly the drummer saw that it was Pambo, -the little brown guard who had nursed him through his illness. His -comrades had left him on the steps. An impulse sent the drummer leaping -down three steps at a time through the whining air. He seized Pambo in -his arms and came back up. The little soldier recognized the American, -for he gasped out, "_Cá!_ _Señor Americano_, tell Juana...." Then he -began bending his body backward, thrusting out his chest in an effort -for breath. When Strawbridge laid him on the floor, he continued these -convulsive movements, bowing up his torso, his mouth open, gasping, and -his eyes staring. - -The next moment the officer nearest the door looked out and gave a -command, and the four soldiers swung shut the heavy metal doors. -Instantly the hall was blanketed to silence. The only sounds were the -footsteps of the guards walking briskly to the rear of the building and -the clinking of balls striking the doors of the palace. - -The drummer fell in with the last soldiers who went down the hallway. -Along the sides of the passage hung the dark portraits of former -dictators, men who had usurped and lost power, and who had been done -to death in just such another eruption as now raged outside. With a -beating heart the drummer hurried past these ironic pictures. - -He meant to fight for General Fombombo. Why? He did not know. Perhaps -it was because of the order for rifles. Perhaps because he sensed -in the arbitrary general something finer than what he found in the -cynical colonel. Or, more likely, it was the result of the salesman's -discovery that Saturnino was a lover of Dolores; the general was only -her husband. Strawbridge fell in with the soldiers. - -The recruits turned in at a side door of the passageway, and this gave -upon a flight of stairs that led to the roof. Guards were pouring up -and down this staircase; the upward-bound were laden with ammunition -boxes; the down-bound were empty-handed. This was the general's -ammunition, hoist from some donjon in the palace. - -The moment Strawbridge stepped into the stairway a din of firing and -shouting broke upon his ears. The salesman ran up the steps beside -one burden-bearer. As they emerged on the roof, one of the soldiers -reached over and jerked the big American down to a stooping posture. -Everybody was stooping. The palace guards crouched and sprawled inside -the waist-high wall that surrounded the roof, and fired through the -machicolations. Stationed here and there among the riflemen were -machine-guns. Each gun was handled by two men. Now and then one of -these guns would break into a hard yammering, then abruptly cease. The -riflemen were firing in the same careful way. They sighted and fired -with murderous concentration. Like all Latin-American revolutionists, -they never used volley-firing in the hope of making a hit. Every bullet -was aimed at somebody. - -A dead man or two and a few wounded men were scattered over the tiled -roof. Stone splinters snapped out of the merlons from adverse gun -fire. The smell of smokeless powder filled the air with a headache-y -quality. The drummer saw a rifle and a bandolier of cartridges beside -a motionless figure. He crawled to it and salvaged the gun. He got to -the wall and settled himself beside an aperture, in line with the whole -wallful of reclining riflemen. - -Peering out between his merlons, he found himself looking into the -westering sun. Saturnino had flung his forces on top of the houses -directly west of the palace. This screened his men in the yellow glow -of the declining sun. The whole outline of the opposite buildings -was an indistinct purple. The drummer stared fixedly at this purple -outline, then he thought he glimpsed a movement. He leveled his gun -and fired. At the same moment a machine-gun near him began a sudden -chattering. Just where the drummer had seen a movement, the black -figure of a man lurched up against the yellow light and disappeared -backward. - -A thrill of triumph shot through Strawbridge. He thought he had hit -his man. He lifted himself for a good look and another shot, when a -bullet flicked a bit of stone out of his merlon and cut his forehead -just over his eye. The salesman dodged down, put up his fingers to the -sting, and saw that he was bleeding a little. It made him angry, and he -fired his rifle viciously several times at the blank purple rim of the -opposite wall. - -At that moment a hand was laid on his shoulder. Strawbridge looked -around and saw that it was General Fombombo. The dictator was patting -his shoulder warmly and encouraging him as a father might encourage the -first efforts of a son. - -"That's the idea--two or three quick shots, then get down." - -The general himself did not keep down so carefully. He seemed sure that -he would not be touched, and was careful only of his men. A contagious -power surrounded the commander. His hand on Strawbridge's shoulder -filled the American with warmth and confidence. He felt a passion to do -some striking thing in the general's service. Standing up quite as high -as the dictator himself, he suddenly cried out: - -"Look! Yonder are some fellows down on the street level! Watch me get--" - -The general pressed him down. - -"Guard yourself," he ordered; "you are too valuable to be in this -firing-line. You must go to New York for me. Report to the magazine and -help send up ammunition. Descend quickly, señor!" - -The drummer was about to crawl off toward the manhole, when abruptly -the whole rank of rapid-fire guns began a steady shrieking. At the same -moment half the riflemen reared up to shoot at something on the street -level. As they did so came a cracking from the opposite building. The -guards fell backward from their barricade, some wounded, some finished. -Perhaps half remained standing, firing solid volleys down into the -street. - -Fombombo bellowed for the riflemen to remain down and let the -machine-guns clean the streets. The big man's roars seemed to fling the -soldiers back into their niches. The machine-gunners, with their steel -shields protecting them, depressed their guns and began a vibratory -screaming at something below. - -Strawbridge, with a nervous spasm in his throat, peered through a -machicolation. Out from behind the nearest building came a swarm of -ghastly scarlet figures armed with heavy timbers. The machine-guns -whipped the _calle_ about them. Groups of the ragged red specters were -struck to the ground about the timbers, but others of the rabble leaped -to their places. They were the "reds." Saturnino had collected these -wretches from the canal camps all over the survey, and now flung them -at the dictator. There was something sickening in the charge of the -"reds" across the _calle_. The machine-guns could not beat them back. -They sowed the street with filthy red canvas bags; but still they came -on and rushed their timbers under the overhang of the building, where -the machine-guns could not reach them. - -The drummer turned and scuttled toward the manhole. As he straightened -and went flying down the steps, he heard a great booming echoing -through the palace. - -It was the "reds" thundering with their wooden rams against the doors -of the building. When Strawbridge got below, the whole palace shook -with the blows. All the inner doors along the central hallway stood -open, and soldiers darted in and out of the rooms to fire through the -windows. Rifle-shots roared through the place, and the stinking haze of -smokeless powder floated out into the corridor through the tops of the -doors and settled against the roof. - -Some impulse sent Strawbridge running to the señora's room. As he -dodged inside, he saw two groups of soldiers crouched in the corners -and raking the windows with their fire. Some of their bullets bit -pieces out of the iron window bars. At regular intervals the end of a -heavy beam crashed against the bars and slowly bent the heavy grille -inward. One by one the anchorages in the stone casing broke loose. - -The two squads of peon soldiers were barricaded behind delicate -dressing-tables and exquisitely wrought chairs; half a dozen guards -knelt behind a canopied four-poster. Their rifles were leveled across -an embroidered silk coverlet. Everything in the room still looked -incongruously feminine, even with men firing across it and a dead -soldier sprawled on a couch. Now and then a bullet drilled a neat -hole in an old-fashioned thin glass mirror in a dressing-stand. And -notwithstanding the sharp stench of powder-gas, still a faint feminine -sweetness lingered in the señora's apartment, a gentle wraith that -would not be exorcised. - -Abruptly the whole of the bending bars broke loose and clanged down -inside. Instantly the window was filled with crashing rifles. The -concussion tore the drummer's ear-drums as he crouched behind the -massive bed. Guards crumpled up out of both firing-squads. Bottles, -brushes, and silver containers on the señora's dressing-table leaped -to splinters. The next moment the window was full of the heads and -shoulders of men, struggling to climb inside. They were the most -ghastly human beings the drummer had ever imagined. - -The few guards left in the room fired point-blank into these terrible -creatures. Strawbridge caught up a gun and was on the point of firing. -He was aiming down the barrel at a skull-like head when he recognized -the tortured features and the burning monkey eyes of Josefa. - -Such a revulsion swept over the American at the semblance of the little -clerk that he dropped his rifle and crouched behind the silken bed. The -prisoners in La Fortuna had been released. The mere horror of their -faces must have shocked the remnant of the guard into flight. Those who -were unwounded leaped from hiding and bolted for the door, shouting -above the din, "_Los presos!_ The prisoners are upon us! La Fortuna has -fallen!" They rushed pell-mell into the hallway, still shouting their -warning until their voices were lost in the din. - -Strawbridge stared at these animated cadavers. Whether they recognized -and spared him as an American, or whether they overlooked him among -the wounded and dead, he never knew. The disinterred wretches streamed -past, with unshaven faces, with yellow skins sticking to the very bones -of their skulls, with eyes lost in bony pits, with lips stretched -across teeth in wrinkles. Their clothes were torn filth and sores. Into -the boudoir with them gushed the smell of rotting flesh and latrines. -This was the very dung of Venezuelan society; it was the cesspool of -the prison regurgitating into the palace; it was human sewage flowing -backward. It was inexpressibly obscene. - -Nausea overcome Strawbridge; yet as they passed into the hallway he -struggled up and followed them. The corridor was a haze filled with -flashing rifles. Out of half a dozen rooms poured other assailants, who -had succeeded in breaking through the windows--other prisoners, other -"reds," other insurgent soldiers, all mixed in the maddest confusion. -They collected themselves under some leader; they formed themselves -into a regiment and then went pouring through the doorway onto the -staircase leading to the roof. - -The drummer stood watching the scarecrow fighters as if hypnotized. He -watched them swirl into the passage that led above. Suddenly, above -the tumult, he heard the hard, shuddering reports of the machine-guns. -A storm of steel burst down on the ghastly assailants, bearing them -backward: the skeleton regiment recoiled, bent low, and started -climbing again, struggling up over their fallen comrades straight into -the muzzles of the guns. Ghastly croaking shouts; thin, rattling -huzzas; the clatter of the guns; the reek of ordure and sores; the -inferno roared on. The rattle of the machine-guns was dwindling. -Strawbridge heard hoarse coughing cries: "Down with Fombombo! There he -is! Strike him! Stab! Shoot! Here he is, over with him!" The drummer -wondered what thoughts burned through the dictator's mind as he faced -his horrible enemies. The cesspool of the prison had belched back, -clear up to the roof of the palace, and General Fombombo was inundated. - - -Strawbridge was deathly sick. He tottered back to the boudoir and -clambered out at the broken window, unopposed. Assailants no longer -encircled the palace; they had drained inside. The tumult on the roof -was rapidly subsiding. Here and there cries of "_Viva_ Saturnino!" -began to sound. Presently a few soldiers came running out of the -palace, waving their rifles and shouting, "_Viva_ Saturnino!" - -_Viva_ Saturnino! The battle was over. - -News of the victory spread through the plaza and the adjoining streets -with extraordinary swiftness. Strawbridge could hear cries for -Saturnino as they were repeated in every direction--near, far, now from -all parts at once--"_Viva_ Saturnino!" - -By common concert men and women appeared, coming in from every -direction. Crowds might have formed out of the air. They came shouting -and huzzaing for victory. They took up the cry, "Liberty! Justice and -Saturnino!" - -A group of peons began dancing in the evening shadows which fell across -the plaza. Some tatterdemalions ran with ropes, lassoed the head of -General Fombombo's statue, and began pulling it from its pedestal. -The marble seemed to resist. It held out its scroll bearing "Liberty, -Equality, and Fraternity," but at last it swung slowly outward and -smashed down on the pavement. - -At its fall a ferocious joy-making boiled up in the crowd. Some one -lighted a fire in the center of the square, and immediately every -one flung the litter from the refugees upon the pyre--broken carts, -smashed furniture, rags, all manner of waste. The fire boiled up in -a great white smoke, and presently flames began licking through it. -The revelers began to sing; half a dozen voices, a score, others and -others, until a great sounding chorus roared up from the plaza. Some -rimester had improvised the words: - - - _Viva el Coronel Saturnino_, - Son of Freedom and Rio Negro! - Save our daughters and our niñas. - To Hell with General Fombombo. - - -The crowd danced about the bonfire to this absurd chant--men and women, -embracing, kissing, singing, whirling in and out like brown vortices of -sand blown up by the winds on the llanos. - -The drummer stood near the façade of the palace, watching the growing -saturnalia. He thought of the señora, and he thanked God she was safe -in some convent, out of all this fury and madness. Greater and greater -crowds gathered in the plaza; they streamed in from everywhere. An old -woman passed Strawbridge, with her arms about a filthy skeleton-like -creature. In the gathering gloom of evening, Strawbridge recognized -the old charwoman of the cathedral, Doña Consolacion, and her grandson -Josefa. These two had been reunited. The drummer watched them pass. The -strange thought came to him that he had brought them down to their poor -plight. - -The bonfire was leaping high by this time, and with the delicacy of -an etching the ornamental trees stood out against the flames. Below -circled the dark figures of the peons, singing of liberty, justice, and -Saturnino. Amid the rhythmic intervals of this uproar, the American -heard a solitary sobbing. The sound was so consonant to his own mood -that he looked about for the mourner. He found the weeper in the gloom -beside the long stairway that led up into the palace. He walked slowly -around the curve of the marble balustrade, and in the shadows he saw a -misshapen woman bending over some object on the pavement and weeping -vehemently. Strawbridge drew closer until he could see her face, -distorted with grief. It was Madruja. The peon girl was heavy with an -unborn child, and in her arms she held the body of the fallen dictator. -The dead tyrant looked curiously small as he lay on the pavement, where -he had been thrown from the roof of the palace. Occasionally the girl -would pause in her sobbing, to stroke the dead man's face with her -puffed fingers; then she would break out afresh. - -As Strawbridge stood blinking his eyes a street vender came running -along, lifting his hands in an attitude of prayer and shouting a -priest-like singsong at the skies. Strawbridge listened to him. He was -chanting in a frenzy of satire: - -"O Saint Peter! O good Saint John! Guard well your eleven thousand holy -virgins; General Fombombo is on his way to Paradise!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - - -The dead man's fate oppressed Strawbridge, and the irony of all the -rejoicing at the rise of Saturnino filled him with bitterness. He -turned away. He meant to go back to the priests' house. He would leave -this anarchic land as quickly as he could. As he turned, a girl came -running down the steps of the palace. She stopped half-way down and -peered at the man on the pavement. Next moment she called his name, -under her breath: - -"_Ola_, Señor Strawbridge! is that you?" She started quickly down the -rest of the steps to him. "_Cá!_ Señor Strawbridge, come to my señora -at once; she needs you! Quick! _Pronto!_ _Ehue_, señor, hurry!" - -The drummer recognized the _griffe_ girl. The urgency in her voice -brought him up sharply. - -"What is it, _chica_?" - -"Oh, _Madre de Jesus_! The soldiers are searching the convents! She has -slipped into the garden and hid! The poor angel! I came flying for you! -Señor, hurry! For love of the Virgin! Would you have a heretic like -Saturnino seize a nun?" - -A terrible feeling came over Strawbridge. - -"Seize her! Is that hell-hound...." The monstrousness of it throttled -him. The girl pulled at his sleeve, and by this time both were running -diagonally across the plaza. They were not conspicuous: they might have -been new merrymakers, hurrying to sing, around the bonfire, of the rise -of Saturnino and of his protection to "our daughters and our _niñas_." -But these two angled into one of the narrow _calles_ that emptied into -the plaza. Even from this little run the convalescent began to breathe -heavily. He caught his breath to ask: - -"How do you know they are searching the convents?" - -"I was in the convent of Saint Ursula with her." - -"What did they do there?" - -"The soldiers surrounded the place, and allowed no one to leave." - -"That might be to keep you from getting hurt," gasped the drummer, with -a ray of hope. - -"Oh, no; they are searching other convents. One of the sisters escaped -and told us. Everybody knows who Coronel Saturnino is hunting." - -The drummer mended his lagging trot a trifle. - -"God almighty!" he breathed in despair; then, "Aren't we almost there?" - -The girl pointed ahead at the upper story of a big convent that rose -above the poor huts which surrounded it. It was hazy in the gathering -shadows of night. - -"She is hiding in the garden on this side." - -"Were you in there with her?" - -"_Sí_, señor." - -"How'd you get out?" - -"I climbed the limb of a tree and dropped out." - -The drummer was filled with apprehension. - -"Good Lord! we'll never get in, that way!" - -The _griffe_ girl suddenly began to whimper. - -"Oh, señor, don't say that! It is the only way we can get back! We -can't let the poor señora be caught in the garden!" - -At this moment the two rounded a corner and came upon the dark wall of -a Venezuelan garden. It was quite as high as an ordinary adobe house, -and was finished in the same way, with plaster masonry. It had not a -foothold from top to bottom. - -The girl caught the American's arm and drew him to a standstill. - -"_Ola!_" she breathed. "There they are now!" - -The drummer paused to peer through the gloom, and saw two peons with -rifles, standing half-way down the length of the garden. He looked -at them, ransacking his brain for some plan. Then he moved forward -again, with his shoulders back and with a certain air of authority. The -soldiers heard him approach, clicked their rifles, and called him to -halt. - -The big man stepped out of the shadow of the wall. - -"I am the _Americano_ who is backing Coronel Saturnino's rebellion with -money," he stated briefly. "I suppose you saw me give him a chest of -gold in San Geronimo; at least you heard about it." - -One of the guards saluted. - -"_Sí_, señor." - -"The _coronel_ has reached Saint Ursula now; he told me to come out -here and send in you two guards to help him search the place." - -One of the soldiers looked at him suspiciously. - -"Why did not the _coronel_ ask you to help him, señor?" - -"Me? Why, I'm no Catholic. I am a Protestant. You don't imagine the -_coronel_ would allow a Protestant to go searching through a Catholic -convent, do you? He respects the decencies of life." - -The doubting guard touched his cap. - -"Very well, señor." Both of them turned about, shouldered their rifles, -and marched off down the garden fence toward the convent. - -When they were some distance away, Strawbridge turned and beckoned. The -_griffe_ girl came to him. She was doubled up with stifled explosions -of laughter. - -"_Caramba!_ what a man!" she gasped. "Send those two donkeys trotting -off like that! _Cá!_" She put her hand on her stomach and doubled again. - -Strawbridge shook her out of her mirth. - -"Here, cut it out! How can we get into this garden?" He looked up the -sheer wall. "How in hell are we ever going to get in?!" - -The girl looked up. - -"I got out on that tree." She pointed at an overhanging bough. - -"Well--damn it!--you see you can't reach it now. You couldn't reach -that from the top of the wall!" - -"No, señor." - -The drummer took the girl by the arm as if he meant to throw her over, -and moved distractedly back along the wall. - -"I wonder if you could hold on to that Bougainvillea," he speculated -hurriedly. "The only thing I see to do is to boost you up to it. We can -try it." - -They hurried up under the bush. Strawbridge picked her up bodily with -his good hand and the elbow of his bad arm. He got her to his shoulder, -put one hand under her, and shoved upward with his whole strength. -The smell of the kitchen enveloped him. Her sandaled feet were on his -shoulders; then she stepped on his head. Flickers of flame danced -before his eyes as she kicked off and grabbed the down-hanging bush -above them. The next moment she was scrambling toward the top of the -wall, clinging to an armful of Bougainvillea stems. - -Strawbridge watched her, with his arms straining upward, as if he still -bore her weight. He stood thus, as the half-breed girl gained slowly -upward and wriggled her body over the top of the wall. - - -The drummer stood for a monotonous age in the gloom beside the garden, -waiting for the reappearance of the maid and her mistress. As he stood -there the stars came out among the overhanging branches. A faint -perfume of some flowering tree sifted down to him, and its fragrance -alternated with the smells of a Latin street. A rumor of the turmoil -in the plaza still reached his ears, but it was overpowered at regular -intervals by the sharp trilling of some insect in the wall. This tiny -creature repeated its love-trill over and over, until at last it caught -the drummer's attention. He thought what a strange thing it was for -this little living speck to send out its love-cry thus and to expect, -out of the immensity of the night, some final satisfaction. And there -was he, Thomas Strawbridge, on precisely the same quest of love as the -midge in the wall. - -It was a fantastic thought. The drummer shuddered, and moved about. It -seemed to him the insect had been trilling for hours, when he heard a -movement on the top of the wall. Then the voice of the _griffe_ girl -whispered: - -"Señor, we went to the gate. There are four guards there. How will the -señora ever get down?" - -Strawbridge was at the edge of his nerves. He thought in irritation: -"You fools! wasting time to go to the gate!" He said aloud: "Dolores! -Are you up there, Dolores!" - -"Oh, dear Tomas, how can I get down?" came the girl's whisper. - -"You'll have to drop!" He braced himself for a violent strain. - -"I'll catch you!" - -The salesman heard a movement above, then the rapid breathing of -women attempting some uncertain feat. Presently he made out an object -lowering itself, or being lowered, from the rim of the wall. Then he -heard a strained whisper: "Oh, señor, I _can't_ let go! Please come up -and help me!" - -Strawbridge was writhing in a rigor of impatience. - -"Drop! For God's sake, drop, Dolores!" - -"But I can't drop in the dark! I can't!" - -"For Christ's sake, Dolores, drop!" he cried. "_Chica!_ _chica!_ Break -her grip! Shove her hands loose! Quick! Damn it! here they come!" - -At that instant came a flurry of falling skirts; a blow of soft flesh -staggered the drummer and almost brought him to his knees. An aura of -faint perfume surrounded him. The breath burst from the girl's strained -lungs as she jarred through her lover's arms to the ground. The next -moment they had straightened themselves and set out running, hand in -hand, down the _calle_. - -"To the cathedral," gasped the señora. "We'll be safe there!" - -From behind them came shouts, then a rifle-shot. A moment later the -fugitives ran past the turn in the _calle_ and for the moment were -screened from rifle fire. They had hardly turned when the _griffe_ girl -came pattering behind them. She was winged with terror for her mistress. - -"Oh, Heart of Pity! They are firing! Run! Run!" - -The maid's excitement really hurried them on faster than the shots had -done; but the señora already was panting with the exhaustion of the -gently bred. - -"I--I--how far do we have to run?" she gasped. - -"On, on, señora! Merciful Mary!" - -"But--but I can't! I--I--" - -"Let's carry her!" panted Strawbridge, at the end of his resources, but -he knew he could not do it. The run was telling on his own strength. - -They were half-way down the _calle_ now, spurring on the last of the -señora's endurance. They were running between solidly built walls. -Behind them the soldiers were shouting commands to halt! The Spanish -girl began to sob. - -"I--I'll have to stop, I--can't--go--any--" - -At that moment Strawbridge glimpsed a little gap in the wall of -houses, the slit-like mouth of a tiny _calle_. He gasped to the señora: - -"Run into that! Here, to the left! Jump in as we pass. Get to the -cathedral the best you can! _Chica_ and I will run on!" - -The Spanish girl used up the last of her strength to forge ahead of -the other two, who ran close to the wall behind her, screening her -movements in the gloom. The next moment she disappeared in the narrow -opening. - -Strawbridge and the _griffe_ girl ran on alone. When the whole party, -pursued and pursuers, were well past the hiding-place of the Spanish -woman, the girl whispered in a fairly controlled breath, "Let's run off -and leave them, señor!" - -"Can you?" puffed the drummer, surprised. - -"_Seguramente_, señor!" There was even a hint of the light-hearted in -her voice. - -By this time Strawbridge had driven his heart action up to running -tempo. He was now good for twenty or thirty minutes of hard running. -He answered the _griffe_ girl by increasing his pace. She kept even -with him, apparently without exertion. Even in the midst of his anxiety -about the señora, the drummer sensed the freedom and resilience of the -girl's movements. - -Nothing but pride drove Strawbridge to keep even with her. He spurted -at top speed. His long legs spanned the cobblestones at a furious -clip. The girl twinkled along at his side with the effortlessness of -a squirrel. She must have enjoyed running; she made little sounds of -pleasure. When the soldiers rounded the corner and saw their quarry far -down the _calle_, there came a hurricane of distant oaths and shouts, -then the sharp crackling of high-powered rifles and a whistling about -their ears. - -The _griffe_ girl had the breath to giggle hysterically, -"They--can't--run--or--shoot!" - -But the next moment she gave a little cry. With an extra spurt of speed -she veered to Strawbridge, clutched his hand, trying to pull him along, -then pressed it sharply against her bosom and blubbered, "_Adios, mi -amo!_ They--my mistress...." Then, abruptly and shockingly, she fell -headlong on the cobblestones, out of a dead run. Like some wild animal, -she had dashed twenty or thirty yards carrying a shot through her heart - - -Strawbridge stooped for a moment over the body of the girl, and with -a stab of pain realized that she was dead. He lifted her head and -shoulders, with an idea of carrying her body to some decent place, but -another fusillade of shots rattled behind him. He dropped her on the -cobblestones and dashed ahead, bending low to avoid the bullets as much -as he might. He had not run twenty yards when he came out on the open -plaza. If the _griffe_ girl could have gone twenty yards farther.... - -He turned sharply to the right along the shop fronts, and tried to lose -himself among the bacchanalían crowd. He began threading his way as -quickly as he could toward the cathedral. - -The murder of the servant-girl filled him with terrible apprehensions -for the señora. She was alone in this half-mad city. He began -reproaching himself for ever having left her. A hundred misfortunes -could befall an unaccompanied woman on Spanish-American streets after -nightfall. Some of her pursuers could easily have followed the girl -up the narrow _calle_. They might be carrying her back to Saturnino -at this moment.... A chill sweat broke out on Strawbridge's face. He -shoved along through the dancing crowd, past the bonfire, toward the -church. - -The leaping flames of the fire cast waves of illumination across the -plaza and against the cathedral, causing its massive façade to glow -and fade in the darkness. From the moment Strawbridge could make out -the three dark archways of the triple entrance, he began looking for -the woman. He hurried along, peering ahead, hitting his fist against -his palm, twisting his fingers. His rapid walk changed into a trot. -He forgot that his great height rendered him conspicuous as he shoved -along through these low-statured Venezuelans. Once he looked back and -he saw a sinister thing. A squad of soldiers were plunging through the -singers of liberty, like a plow. They left a furrow in the human mass -behind them which required twenty or thirty seconds to refill with -revelers. Then from another direction a second body of soldiers pushed -their way; these two bodies were converging on the cathedral. - -The sight of these squads whipped the drummer into headlong flight -again. His apprehension increased as he came to the cathedral. His back -crawled with dread of a crashing impact. One little fact comforted -his harassed brain: if the two squads were focusing on the cathedral, -Dolores must have escaped. If he were killed, Father Benicio would -protect her. - -At the very moment he thought of the priest, he saw him. The cleric's -black-robed figure stood at the entrance of the middle door as if on -guard. When Strawbridge reached the piazza in front of the church, he -slackened his pace to something a little more respectful. - -"Father--Father," he panted, when he was close enough, "is Dolores in -the church? Has she come? For Christ's sake, man, tell me!" - -The priest waved him sharply inside, then walked quickly to the smaller -of the three portals, apparently to shut it. He seemed to have been -waiting for the American's arrival. What he did next, the American did -not know; he was already hurrying down the aisle toward the chapel of -the Last Supper. - -Strawbridge knew that Dolores was in this chapel. He turned into the -entrance. He could see nothing except the slender dark figure against -a glow of gold. The girl turned at his footstep, gave a little cry, -and lifted herself to the arms of her lover. The big American bent over -her, unable to see for his own tears. He kissed her ears, her chin, -with her nun's bonnet in his face. He lifted a clumsy hand to remove -it. His shaking fingers felt the coils of her hair, the curve of her -neck. He was half sobbing. - -"Oh, I ought never to have left you! Poor angel! Did they hurt you!" - -With fluttering fingers she got the bonnet off, and it fell down before -the altar. They stood pressing their mouths together, clinging to each -other with convulsive gusts of strength. They gasped and murmured -inarticulate sounds out of the corners of their lips. They had been so -terrified for each other, and now their nerves swung back in a crescent -and inarticulate transport. - - -Strawbridge spoke first: - -"I saw some soldiers coming this way. I think we'd better go." - -The girl lifted her face from his breast to look at him. - -"Leave the cathedral!" - -"Why, yes, Beautiful! I tell you the soldiers chased me in here. They -must be outside. God knows how long we've been standing here!" - -She loosed herself and straightened. - -"But, my own heaven, this is our sanctuary. We are safe here." - -It had never occurred to the drummer to allow the cathedral to be the -haven of his flight. - -"But listen, beloved: we're not safe anywhere. You thought you were -safe in the convent, but--" - -"But, _mi adoración_, you know that not even _he_ would violate the -chapel of our merciful Lady." She looked at him, amazed. - -"But he will! I know he will. Here, let's go!" He took her arm and -swung her gently about so that she was at his side with one of his arms -about her waist. - -"But, _mi carino_!" she cried, "don't you know if he should dare come -in here, our holy Lady would cast him out of this cathedral; _Cá!_ She -would call down fire from heaven upon his head!" The girl made a sharp -gesture from the image on the altar to some imaginary victim before it. - -Such a passion of belief startled the drummer. He had never before -sensed this fire in the girl. But his apprehension was rising -constantly. He heard a murmur from the front of the cathedral. He made -her listen; he began urging her more strongly than ever that they fly -while they could. She put a hand over his mouth. - -"But listen, _carissimo_!" she insisted passionately. "Our loving Lady -brought us together in her chapel; shall we not trust her to the end? -Can we wound her feelings by deserting her now?" She touched her breast -and forehead and looked at the image. "Oh, _mi corazon_, I prayed and -prayed to her for this great happiness! I wrote a letter to my dear -Lady and placed it here on her altar so my prayer would go up to her -like an incense. And now I have you!" She put her arms around him again -and gazed into his face with rapt and tender eyes. "Let us stay here!" - -The fact that Dolores had written the letter which he had contemplated -writing, moved Strawbridge with a profound intimacy and sweetness. It -gave him another of his rare glimpses of the eternity in which his -little life momentarily moved. Perhaps supernal powers were indeed -ranged back of these altars, with their protecting arms about him and -this sweet lady. The thought of such guardianship wrapped the drummer -in its glory. It elevated his passion for the Spanish girl; it lifted -it from the earth, and set it up in heaven, like a star. He was almost -minded to rest his fate with the Virgin, but his mystical mood was -broken by the gathering turmoil at the cathedral entrance. The sounds -reached the chapel softened and sweetened by arches and domes, but -they were sinister. They whipped the American's thoughts from any -supernatural help and set him back sharply on his pagan self-reliance. -He took the girl's arm again. - -"Look here, Dolores," he hurried as the sounds swelled in intensity, -"we'll have to go. She--" he nodded at the altar--"she's done -enough--all I want. She's got us together. Now we ought to help -ourselves!" Strawbridge's voice admitted of no discussion. He was -almost dragging the girl away. - -The noise at the entrance was resounding as if the cathedral were a -bass viol. Dolores moved instinctively back to her protectress, but -Strawbridge hurried her along. - -As they ran up the aisle, Strawbridge thought swiftly of possible -avenues of escape. He remembered the underground tunnels in the crypt, -but the idea of flying through a hole in the ground was repellent to -him. He would take the night and the stars. - -Even while he was planning, he hurried to the side door of the -cathedral which let out into the garden. As he fumbled at the bolts -with his good hand, came two heavy, drum-like reports from the front of -the cathedral. This seemed to loose pandemonium in the church. - -The drummer leaped with the girl into the dark garden, and went running -down the hedge. They had not gone a hundred feet before they heard -men rush out at the side door behind them. Bending low in the shadow, -Strawbridge ran at full tilt. His good arm took the strain of the -señora's stumblings. In his necessity he upheld her, he almost carried -her. He crashed on through the garden. His impact burst open the little -postern gate toward the palace. As he ran, he silently cursed his -pursuers with every blasphemy he could think of. He could hear the -Spanish girl whispering rapid prayers. - -He rushed across to the piazza behind the palace. He swung Dolores upon -it and leaped up after her. The west side of the piazza was blocked -by the palace kitchen. In the cooking-stove a handful of red coals -glowered at him. Their pursuers had now filled the thoroughfare between -the garden and the palace. Suddenly he saw two or three forms leap upon -the platform. The drummer ran to the river side of the piazza. The girl -clutched his arm. - -"Oh, _carissimo_! we are not going down there!" - -"Yes, yes! there's nowhere else to go!" - -They stepped upon the steep, dark slope that dropped away to the river. -Instantly they were sliding and slipping down, helter-skelter. They -went through rotting flesh, bones, decaying vegetables, stenches and -smells such as are found nowhere on earth save outside a Latin-American -kitchen. They balanced, they caught each other, they fell on their -hands and knees. The fetor of the stuff high on the bank changed to the -dull smell of dried leavings farther down. Suddenly, from far above -them, came the flashes of rifles. As usual with riflemen on a height, -the soldiers overshot. A moment later, the fugitives reached the dank -smell that marked the river's edge. Not forty yards down the river, -Strawbridge saw the glimmer of a white object. He went running toward -it, lifting the girl on his arm. The scoured canoe took form out of the -night. The drummer swung Dolores bodily over the garboard, then heaved -at the prow and began backing it out into the dark, swift river. When -it was well afloat, he leaped and landed on his belly across its nose. -He wriggled inside, groped for the paddle, straightened up, and began -working furiously with his good hand and his elbow, away from the rifle -fire. - -When he was well away, he looked back. Flashes from the rifles were -still visible, but they seemed to be moving rapidly up the river bank. -With the rifles drifted the black bulk of the palace, the stately spire -of the cathedral, the somber outline of La Fortuna. All moved evenly -and swiftly into the west; they dwindled in size and definition until -presently they melted into the night. At last all the fugitives could -discern were the red reflections of the bonfire against the clouds. - -Around the canoe boiled the rapids of the Rio Negro. They were in the -midst of the thunder that brooded for miles over cities and villages -and llanos. The air was full of flying spray and the peculiar smell of -fresh water in great disturbance. The canoe was flung skyward, dropped. -It came to sharp pauses, leaped forward, and pirouetted on prow and -stern. Strawbridge lay flat on his back in the fish-boat, to keep the -center of gravity as low as possible. The stars overhead appeared to -him a whirling vortex of fiery points. He gripped the señora's hands in -his good palm. He could feel her moving her rosary through her fingers. -As they shot through the black thunder, the Spanish girl was praying to -the Virgin of Canalejos. Dolores believed the Virgin was guiding the -canoe down the perilous channel. Strawbridge's nerves were at tension, -but he was not afraid. He believed in his luck. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - - -The distance from Canalejos to San Geronimo is much greater following -the meanders of the Rio Negro than the direct route across the llanos. -When dawn whitened over the river, on the morning after the flight of -the drummer and the Spanish girl, Strawbridge expected hourly to see -the campaniles of San Geronimo appear above the horizon. It was his -plan, when he came in sight of the city, to wait until night before -he attempted to pass in the canoe. He reasoned that Saturnino would -telegraph to San Geronimo and order their arrest and imprisonment. - -So, as the two fugitives floated down the great muddy flood, they -peered through the beating sunshine and the dancing glare from the -water, in order to see and be warned by the first glimpse of the -distant city. But such a fulgor lay over the water that toward the -middle of the morning they were hardly able to see the reeds that -marched down to the riverside, or the green parrots that passed over -the canoe in great flocks and filled the sky with a harsh screaming. - -The river stretched on, mile after mile, a vast moving plane that -banished the shores to level lines almost at the horizon. At last -Strawbridge came to paddle close to one shore, in order that their tiny -canoe might not be utterly lost amid such an immensity. As they clung -closely to the left or easterly bank they passed, in the afternoon, -what appeared to be the mouth of a small tributary river. Along its -banks were a scattering of deserted huts, stakes with rusting chains -fastened to them, a stockade of reeds daubed with mud, two or three -adobe ovens such as the peons use. Strawbridge looked curiously at -the abandoned site, and presently he realized that he was passing one -of the branches that would have formed a part of General Fombombo's -great system of canals. The work lay abandoned in a furnace of heat; -the conscripted "reds" were gone. The only evidences of life were -the crocodiles which had taken possession of the waterway and sunned -themselves along its sandy rim. - -As the man and the woman floated past they looked at the intake and the -empty camp until it grew small in the distance and at last melted into -the dancing horizon. What the Spanish girl thought as she looked at -this ruinous fragment of her husband's great dream, Strawbridge did not -know, nor did he dare to ask. - -This long reach of water, wrought by the fettered "reds," somehow made -Strawbridge, as he floated past it in his little canoe, feel small -and uncertain of himself. It brought to his mind keenly the general, -his restless planning; working, gathering gold, attacking cities, -conscripting labor for vast projects; and now he was gone and this -mighty fragment of his work was a harbor for reptiles. Seen from this -perspective, the fact that the dictator had abandoned Dolores, who did -not love him, for peon girls who did, no longer appeared the high crime -which the American had held most harshly against him. It occurred to -Strawbridge that there must have been sides to the general which he had -missed, or but dimly apprehended. - -The drummer's thoughts swung away from the general, to the long line of -dictators who had arisen and oppressed Rio Negro. Each tyrant no sooner -gained power than immediately he fell into some madness peculiar to -himself. - -Strawbridge wondered why this was so. Heretofore he had thought such -tyranny and oppression arose out of sheer wickedness, but now, looking -back on the life of the general, he doubted this judgment. The trend -of Fombombo's plans had always been toward some great good for his -state. But his efforts, it seemed to Strawbridge, were unbusinesslike. -He made a gesture toward projects far beyond his resources. His effort -to outstrip his physical resources forced him to conscript the "reds." -It was his sensitiveness to any criticism of his unbusinesslike policy -that caused him to imprison every critic of his methods. Lack of -business acumen was the basic weakness which led to the dictator's -tyrannies and to his final downfall. - -As Strawbridge sat in the canoe, brooding over it, a strange thought -came to him that perhaps all righteousness of conduct was at last -resolvable to dollars and cents. - -He mused over this curious theory. Gumersindo had told him some of the -history of Spain, and all the time the negro editor was relating the -expulsion of the Moors and the Jews from the peninsula, the drummer -kept thinking not of any abstract injustice of the banishment but of -the extraordinarily bad business methods the Spanish monarch used. -Likewise, he could not help thinking that while the Spanish Inquisition -struck a fine attitude before Heaven, it cut a very poor figure on -Exchange. - -And now he thought that just as Spain had suffered from lack of -business, Venezuela, her colony, had inherited the same curse. The -Venezuelans placed religion before business, they placed family pride -before business, they placed pleasure before business. It seemed to him -that they placed the smallest before the greatest. - -Heretofore, when Strawbridge's Venezuelan friends had twitted the -American with possessing "monetary morals," the drummer was wounded and -inclined to take offense at the qualification. Now, as he thought about -it more steadily, it dawned on him that the ability to sift conduct -down to its money value was about the only universal standard of -righteousness that the world would ever know. This curious conclusion -settled many interrogations in the drummer's mind, and brought to him a -kind of peace. - -Strawbridge felt a man's impulse to share his thoughts with the señora. -He glanced up at her, with his theory on the tip of his tongue, but -she seemed absorbed in her own musings. As he looked at her through -the glare of sunshine, his instinct warned him that he would better -not attempt it. It was very precious to him, but it would not be very -precious to her. Indeed, as he looked at her, he began to realize that -she would never understand it; that she was born on the wrong side of -the world ever to understand just these thoughts. - -She looked very dear and lovable. - - -The fugitives did not reach San Geronimo until the third night -following their flight. They approached the city in the darkness, as -they had planned, but to their surprise and dismay, they saw hundreds -of lights moving over the face of the water. From afar off these lights -looked like a field of fireflies, but presently they developed into -native torches, such as the Orinoco Indians use in hunting alligators -at night. - -The man and the woman were terrified, and in whispers discussed what -course they could pursue. Dolores suggested that they go ashore on -the other side of the river and walk down past the town. This was -impossible because the city lay in the junction of the Rio Negro and -the Orinoco. They would be caught in this V-shaped Mesopotamia, with -nowhere to walk except back up the Orinoco. Moreover, any walking at -all in such a pestilential country would mean a painful and lingering -death for Dolores. Nor was the drummer in any degree a woodsman. He -always lost his direction in the open. - -It seemed to Strawbridge that their only possible hope was to reach one -of the searching canoes and bribe the owner into running them through -the blockade. He knew a report of his imaginary wealth had been spread -among the peons, and now he hoped by wide promises to slip through -Coronel Saturnino's fleet. - -He veered his canoe in the darkness and began paddling slowly toward -one of the lights. It seemed an ironic thing that freedom, the right -to a home and to Dolores should lie just a quarter of a mile beyond -those patrolling torches. To accomplish his object, he had scarcely a -gambler's chance. Saturnino, sitting in his study in San Geronimo, had -worked out every possible combination which Strawbridge could attempt. -Now this diapering of lights moving against the darkness was one of his -checks. - -In the midst of his thoughts, Strawbridge became aware that half a -dozen or more lights were bearing down on his canoe. The drummer, in -dismay, stopped paddling. He had thought to steal silently up to one of -the canoes, unseen by the others, and quietly make his compact with the -canoeist to assist him through the blockade. Now, with dozens of boats -bearing down on him from every direction, bribery was impossible. He -sat staring at the gathering torches, with a profound sinking of the -heart. By no possibility could he, a one-handed man, race away from the -Indians. - -The Spanish girl moved to him. - -"Oh, dear Tomas!" she whispered, "are we going to be lost, after all!" - -Her helplessness moved the drummer. - -"I suppose talking to him, pleading with him, begging him for the love -of humanity to let you go--" - -Dolores gave his hand a pressure. - -"No, we must not despair. I know the sweet Virgin will save us. She -would not do so much and then let us be lost." The girl lifted her -white face toward the stars and began murmuring her prayers. - -The drummer looked at her with a profound pity and tenderness. He -knew it would indeed require a miracle to save her now. He swiftly -considered what he could do. There was only one thing. He could follow -her to Canalejos, and then, when Saturnino had taken her into the -palace and wearied of her ... then.... - -The drummer wondered whether he himself could keep so long and -humiliating a vigil. It seemed to him that he could; indeed, it seemed -the only thing possible for him to do. Ever again to make a gesture of -deserting her was an impossible thing for Thomas Strawbridge. Among all -the women in the world she alone was for him; she was a very part of -himself. - -He put his arms around her. - -"Listen, Dolores," he whispered solemnly: "no matter what comes, as -long as I have life I will follow you; no matter what happens, I will -wait for you." He kissed her gently on the cheek and pressed her face -to his. "I will not forsake you, Dolores...." - -Amid his murmuring came a shout across the water: - -"_Hola, Señor Americano!_ Is that _Señor Americano! Canastos, hombre!_ -you are wanted!" - -Strawbridge stood up in the canoe. - -"Ho, yes!" he shouted loudly. "Come ahead! I am the American!" - -Canoes were gathering now from every direction, and their lights began -to illuminate his own boat; still, he could see little of the gathering -flotilla, for each torch was set in front of a tin reflector and flung -all its light forward. From the dimly seen figures came a voice, saying: - -"An order from Canalejos, señor. We are to detain you and _la señora_!" - -"Yes, I had supposed so." - -A pause, then the voice said: - -"We have been watching for you day and night, señor." - -The American wearied instantly of this polite Spanish circumlocution. - -"Oh, well! Now that you've got us what are you going to do with us?" - -"If you will accompany me to my ship, señor! Perhaps you recognize me: -we had a very pleasant afternoon together once. I am Captain Vargas of -the _Concepcion Inmaculada_." He twisted the light about in his boat -and exhibited not a canoe but himself and a number of peon oarsmen, in -a jolly-boat. - -Strawbridge looked at his good-natured face. That he should have fallen -in with this captain who would have been so easily bribed, amid a -crowd where such bribing was impossible, was the last touch of ironic -fortune. It filled him with such bitterness that he ran his tongue -about his mouth as if the flavor were on his palate. - -"Yes, I remember you very well. So you are still here?" - -"That is true, but I sail at once. I am in the Rio Negran navy now, -both me and my _Concepcion Inmaculada_. I am a captain. I am a captain -in the insurgent navy." - -It was true. Captain Vargas wore a blue coat trimmed with much gold -braid. Coronel Saturnino had caught him through his vanity. - - -A rope had been tossed over the prow of the canoe, and now the whole -fleet of small boats approached the lights of a schooner that lay in -the harbor of San Geronimo. This was the old schooner _Concepcion -Inmaculada_, now the solitary ship in the insurgent navy. Beyond the -black rigging of the ship, Strawbridge could see the silhouettes of -the long row of palms which stood on the waterfront. The schooner lay -exactly where the drummer had seen her after the battle of San Geronimo. - -The small boats pulled up alongside, and the captain and the captives -went on board. The old tub evidently had been laded during the interim, -for now she smelled strongly of balata and tonka-beans. - -Captain Vargas led the way briskly across decks and down the little -hatchway into the cabin. Two oil lamps lighted this place and when the -captain stepped into it the gold braid on his new uniform shone more -brightly than ever. He went over to the ship's chest, opened it, and -drew out an envelop. - -"I have a writ here for you, Señor Strawbridge," he explained politely. -"It was very necessary to intercept you; that is why all San Geronimo -turned out to be sure you were brought in." - -"Yes. You seemed enthusiastic." - -Captain Vargas smiled politely. He was a little more polite, a little -stiffer, and not quite so friendly now that he was in a uniform. - -"Now, if the señora will have that chair.... She must be weary." He -drew about a chair and assisted her to it, with elaborate courtesy. - -Vargas then bowed again and handed the envelop to the drummer. It was -a government official envelop with a large seal. The American opened -it, moistened his lips, then held it under the light of an oil lamp and -read: - - - Señor Tomas Strawbridge, - Late of Canalejos, Rio Negro. - - _Excellentissimo Señor_: - - You are hereby instructed to proceed immediately to Rio de - Janeiro with the _Concepcion Inmaculada_, taking full command of - her cargo of balata and tonka-beans, also of the gold coin and - specie on board, as set forth in the ship's manifest. Deliver - this cargo to the consignee in Rio Janeiro, and with the proceeds - therefor purchase the arms and ammunition as heretofore set out - in a contract entered into by the government of Rio Negro of the - first part and the Orion Arms Corporation of the second part. - This former contract is hereby fully validated by the newly - established government of Rio Negro. I have the honor to be, _al - mas excellentissimo señor, su muy humilde servidor_, - - DELGOA, - _Minister of War_. - - -This surprising letter had a postscript written in a different, and, -indeed, in an almost illegible hand. Its extraordinarily bad Spanish -baffled the drummer for several minutes, but at length he made out: - - - My devoted _camarado_: You left Canalejos to attend to some - other detail of your gigantic plans, just in the moment of local - victory. However, I saw my opportunity and seized it. The moment - Coronel Saturnino shot down good Father Benicio at the door of - the cathedral, when the father was trying to protect the Señora - Fombombo, that moment I knew Coronel Saturnino had gone too far. - I knew the saints would overthrow such a blasphemous murderer. I - raised the banner of revolt against him. All the peons and half - his own army turned against him at once. I had no difficulty in - capturing him. He is now lodged in La Fortuna, in its vilest cell. - He eats nothing but maggoty bread, and drinks the river water that - seeps into his dungeon. I have him soundly thrashed three times a - day. - - Also, I have placed in prison all the palace guards and all the - old government officials and their sympathizers. Be assured none - of them will ever get out, except in sacks. I am determined that - in Rio Negro shall reign liberty, equality, and fraternity. That - is why all aristocrats shall stay in La Fortuna. - - All the rooms in the palace are occupied, but Madruja is very ill. - - I have also recaptured a large number of "reds" and have set them - to digging the foundation of a magnificent bull-ring. - - JUAN LUBITO, EL LIBERTADOR, - _First Constitutional President of the - Free and Independent Republic of Rio Negro_. - - - * * * * * - -"_The Books You Like to Read at the Price You Like to Pay_" - - -_There Are Two Sides to Everything--_ - ---including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Dunlap book. -When you feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully -selected list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by -prominent writers of the day which is printed on the back of every -Grosset & Dunlap book wrapper. - -You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from--books for -every mood and every taste and every pocket-book. - -_Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write to -the publishers for a complete catalog._ - - -_There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book -for every mood and for every taste_ - - - - -THE NOVELS OF TEMPLE BAILEY - -May be had wherever books are sold. 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