A Ruler of Men
I walked the streets of the City of Insolence, thirsting for the sightof a stranger face. For the City is a desert of familiar types as thickand alike as the grains in a sand-storm; and you grow to hate them asyou do a friend who is always by you, or one of your own kin.
And my desire was granted, for I saw near a corner of Broadway andTwenty-ninth Street, a little flaxen-haired man with a face like ascaly-bark hickory-nut, selling to a fast-gathering crowd a tool thatomnigeneously proclaimed itself a can-opener, a screw-driver, abutton-hook, a nail-file, a shoe-horn, a watch-guard, a potato-peeler;and an ornament to any gentleman's key-ring.
And then a stall-fed cop shoved himself through the congregation ofcustomers. The vender, plainly used to having his seasons of trade thusabruptly curtailed, closed his satchel and slipped like a weasel throughthe opposite segment of the circle. The crowd scurried aimlessly awaylike ants from a disturbed crumb. The cop, suddenly becoming obliviousof the earth and its inhabitants, stood still, swelling his bulk andputting his club through an intricate drill of twirls. I hurried afterKansas Bill Bowers, and caught him by an arm.
Without his looking at me or slowing his pace, I found a five-dollarbill crumpled neatly into my hand.
"I wouldn't have thought, Kansas Bill," I said, "that you'd hold an oldfriend that cheap."
Then he turned his head, and the hickory-nut cracked into a wide smile.
"Give back the money," said he, "or I'll have the cop after you forfalse pretenses. I thought you was the cop."
"I want to talk to you, Bill," I said. "When did you leave Oklahoma?Where is Reddy McGill now? Why are you selling those impossiblecontraptions on the street? How did your Big Horn gold-mine pan out? Howdid you get so badly sunburned? What will you drink?"
"A year ago," answered Kansas Bill systematically. "Putting up windmillsin Arizona. For pin money to buy etceteras with. Salted. Been down inthe tropics. Beer."
We foregathered in a propitious place and became Elijahs while a waiterof dark plumage played the raven to perfection. Reminiscence needs mustbe had before I could steer Bill into his epic mood.
"Yes," said he, "I mind the time Timoteo's rope broke on that cow'shorns while the calf was chasing you. You and that cow! I'd never forgetit."
"The tropics," said I, "are a broad territory. What part of Cancer ofCapricorn have you been honoring with a visit?"
"Down along China or Peru--or maybe the Argentine Confederacy," saidKansas Bill. "Anyway 'twas among a great race of people, off-colored butprogressive. I was there three months."
"No doubt you are glad to be back among the truly great race," Isurmised. "Especially among New Yorkers, the most progressive andindependent citizens of any country in the world," I continued, with thefatuity of the provincial who has eaten the Broadway lotus.
"Do you want to start an argument?" asked Bill.
"Can there be one?" I answered.
"Has an Irishman humor, do you think?" asked he.
"I have an hour or two to spare," said I, looking at the cafe clock.
"Not that the Americans aren't a great commercial nation," concededBill. "But the fault laid with the people who wrote lies for fiction."
"What was this Irishman's name?" I asked.
"Was that last beer cold enough?" said he.
"I see there is talk of further outbreaks among the Russian peasants," Iremarked.
"His name was Barney O'Connor," said Bill.
Thus, because of our ancient prescience of each other's trail ofthought, we travelled ambiguously to the point where Kansas Bill's storybegan:
"I met O'Connor in a boarding-house on the West Side. He invited me tohis hall-room to have a drink, and we became like a dog and a cat thathad been raised together. There he sat, a tall, fine, handsome man, withhis feet against one wall and his back against the other, looking over amap. On the bed and sticking three feet out of it was a beautiful goldsword with tassels on it and rhinestones in the handle.
"'What's this?' says I (for by that time we were well acquainted). 'Theannual parade in vilification of the ex-snakes of Ireland? And what'sthe line of march? Up Broadway to Forty-second; thence east to McCarty'scafe; thence--'
"'Sit down on the wash-stand,' says O'Connor, 'and listen. And cast noperversions on the sword. 'Twas me father's in old Munster. And thismap, Bowers, is no diagram of a holiday procession. If ye look again.ye'll see that it's the continent known as South America, comprisingfourteen green, blue, red, and yellow countries, all crying out fromtime to time to be liberated from the yoke of the oppressor.'
"'I know,' says I to O'Connor. 'The idea is a literary one. The ten-centmagazine stole it from "Ridpath's History of the World from theSand-stone Period to the Equator." You'll find it in every one of 'em.It's a continued story of a soldier of fortune, generally named O'Keefe,who gets to be dictator while the Spanish-American populace cries"Cospetto!" and other Italian maledictions. I misdoubt if it's ever beendone. You're not thinking of trying that, are you, Barney?' I asks.
"'Bowers,' says he, 'you're a man of education and courage.'
"How can I deny it?' says I. 'Education runs in my family; and I haveacquired courage by a hard struggle with life.'
"'The O'Connors,' says he, 'are a warlike race. There is me father'ssword; and here is the map. A life of inaction is not for me. TheO'Connors were born to rule. 'Tis a ruler of men I must be.'
"'Barney,' I says to him, 'why don't you get on the force and settledown to a quiet life of carnage and corruption instead of roaming off toforeign parts? In what better way can you indulge your desire to subdueand maltreat the oppressed?'
"'Look again at the map,' says he, 'at the country I have the point ofme knife on. 'Tis that one I have selected to aid and overthrow with mefather's sword.'
"'I see,' says I. 'It's the green one; and that does credit to yourpatriotism, and it's the smallest one; and that does credit to yourjudgment.'
"'Do ye accuse me of cowardice?' says Barney, turning pink.
"'No man,' says I, 'who attacks and confiscates a country single-handedcould be called a coward. The worst you can be charged with isplagiarism or imitation. If Anthony Hope and Roosevelt let you get awaywith it, nobody else will have any right to kick.'
"'I'm not joking,' says O'Connor. 'And I've got $1,500 cash to work thescheme with. I've taken a liking to you. Do you want it, or not?'
"'I'm not working,' I told him; 'but how is it to be? Do I eat duringthe fomentation of the insurrection, or am I only to be Secretary of Warafter the country is conquered? Is it to be a pay envelope or only aportfolio?'
"I'll pay all expenses,' says O'Connor. "I want a man I can trust. If wesucceed you may pick out any appointment you want in the gift of thegovernment.'
"'All right, then,' says I. 'You can get me a bunch of draying contractsand then a quick-action consignment to a seat on the Supreme Court benchso I won't be in line for the presidency. The kind of cannon theychasten their presidents with in that country hurt too much. You canconsider me on the pay-roll.'
"Two weeks afterward O'Connor and me took a steamer for the small,green, doomed country. We were three weeks on the trip. O'Connor said hehad his plans all figured out in advance; but being the commandinggeneral, it consorted with his dignity to keep the details concealedfrom his army and cabinet, commonly known as William T. Bowers. Threedollars a day was the price for which I joined the cause of liberatingan undiscovered country from the ills that threatened or sustained it.Every Saturday night on the steamer I stood in line at parade rest, andO'Connor handed ever the twenty-one dollars.
"The town we landed at was named Guayaquerita, so they told me. `Not forme,' says I. 'It'll be little old Hilldale or Tompkinsville or CherryTree Corners when I speak of it. It's a clear case where Spelling Reformought to butt in and disenvowel it.'
"But the town looked fine from the bay when we sailed in. It was white,with green ruching, and lace ruffles on the skirt when the surf slashedup on the sand. It looked as tropical and dolce far ultra as thepictures of Lake Ronkonkoma in the brochure of the passenger departmentof the Long Island Railroad.
"We went through the quarantine and custom-house indignities; and thenO'Connor leads me to a 'dobe house on a street called 'The Avenue of theDolorous Butterflies of the Individual and Collective Saints.' Ten feetwide it was, and knee-deep in alfalfa and cigar stumps.
"'Hooligan Alley,' says I, rechristening it.
"''Twill be our headquarters,' says O'Connor. 'My agent here, DonFernando Pacheco, secured it for us.'
"So in that house O'Connor and me established the revolutionary centre.In the front room we had ostensible things such as fruit, a guitar, anda table with a conch shell on it. In the back room O'Connor had his deskand a large looking-glass and his sword hid in a roll of straw matting.We slept on hammocks that we hung to hooks in the wall; and took ourmeals at the Hotel Ingles, a beanery run on the American plan by aGerman proprietor with Chinese cooking served a la Kansas City lunchcounter.
"It seems that O'Connor really did have some sort of system planned outbeforehand. He wrote plenty of letters; and every day or two some nativegent would stroll round to headquarters and be shut up in the back roomfor half an hour with O'Connor and the interpreter. I noticed that whenthey went in they were always smoking eight-inch cigars and at peacewith the world; but when they came out they would be folding up a ten-or twenty-dollar bill and cursing the government horribly.
"One evening after we had been in Guaya--in this town ofSmellville-by-the-Sea--about a month, and me and O'Connor were sittingoutside the door helping along old tempus fugit with rum and ice andlimes, I says to him:
"'If you'll excuse a patriot that don't exactly know what he'spatronizing, for the question--what is your scheme for subjugating thiscountry? Do you intend to plunge it into bloodshed, or do you mean tobuy its votes peacefully and honorably at the polls?'
"'Bowers,' says he, 'ye're a fine little man and I intend to make greatuse of ye after the conflict. But ye do not understand statecraft.Already by now we have a network of strategy clutching with invisiblefingers at the throat of the tyrant Calderas. We have agents at work inevery town in the republic. The Liberal party is bound to win. On oursecret lists we have the names of enough sympathizers to crush theadministration forces at a single blow.'
"'A straw vote,' says I, 'only shows which way the hot air blows.'
"'Who has accomplished this?' goes on O'Connor. 'I have. I have directedeverything. The time was ripe when we came, so my agents inform me. Thepeople are groaning under burdens of taxes and levies. Who will be theirnatural leader when they rise? Could it be any one but meself? 'Twasonly yesterday that Zaldas, our representative in the province ofDurasnas, tells me that the people, in secret, already call me "ElLibrary Door," which is the Spanish manner of saying "The Liberator."'
"'Was Zaldas that maroon-colored old Aztec with a paper collar on andunbleached domestic shoes?' I asked.
"'He was,' says O'Connor.
"'I saw him tucking a yellow-back into his vest pocket as he came out,'says I. 'It may be,' says I, 'that they call you a library door, butthey treat you more like the side door of a bank. But let us hope forthe worst.'
"'It has cost money, of course,' says O'Connor; 'but we'll have thecountry in our hands inside of a month.'
"In the evenings we walked about in the plaza and listened to the bandplaying and mingled with the populace at its distressing and obnoxiouspleasures. There were thirteen vehicles belonging to the upper classes,mostly rockaways and old-style barouches, such as the mayor rides in atthe unveiling of the new poorhouse at Milledgeville, Alabama. Round andround the desiccated fountain in the middle of the plaza they drove, andlifted their high silk hats to their friends. The common people walkedaround in barefooted bunches, puffing stogies that a Pittsburgmillionaire wouldn't have chewed for a dry smoke on Ladies' Day at hisclub. And the grandest figure in the whole turnout was Barney O'Connor.
"Six foot two he stood in his Fifth Avenue clothes, with his eagle eyeand his black moustache that tickled his ears. He was a born dictatorand czar and hero and harrier of the human race. It looked to me thatall eyes were turned upon O'Connor, and that every woman there lovedhim, and every man feared him. Once or twice I looked at him and thoughtof funnier things that had happened than his winning out in his game;and I began to feel like a Hidalgo de Officio de Grafto de South Americamyself. And then I would come down again to solid bottom and let myimagination gloat, as usual, upon the twenty-one American dollars due meon Saturday night.
"'Take note,' says O'Connor to me as thus we walked, 'of the mass of thepeople. Observe their oppressed and melancholy air. Can ye not see thatthey are ripe for revolt? Do ye not perceive that they are disaffected?'
"'I do not,' says I. `Nor disinfected either. I'm beginning tounderstand these people. When they look unhappy they're enjoyingthemselves. When they feel unhappy they go to sleep. They're not thekind of people to take an interest in revolutions.'
"'They'll flock to our standard,' says O'Connor. 'Three thousand men inthis town alone will spring to arms when the signal is given. I amassured of that. But everything is in secret. There is no chance for usto fail.'
"On Hooligan Alley, as I prefer to call the street our headquarters wason, there was a row of flat 'dobe houses with red tile roofs, some strawshacks full of Indians and dogs, and one two-story wooden house withbalconies a little farther down. That was where General Tumbalo, thecomandante and commander of the military forces, lived. Right across thestreet was a private residence built like a combination bake-oven andfolding-bed. One day, O'Connor and me were passing it, single file, onthe flange they called a sidewalk, when out of the window flies a bigred rose. O'Connor, who is ahead, picks it up, presses it to his fifthrib, and bows to the ground. By Carrambos! that man certainly had theIrish drama chaunceyized. I looked around expecting to see the littleboy and girl in white sateen ready to jump on his shoulder while hejolted their spinal columns and ribs together through a breakdown, andsang: `Sleep, Little One, Sleep.'
"As I passed the window I glanced inside and caught a glimpse of a whitedress and a pair of big, flashing black eyes and gleaming teeth under adark lace mantilla.
"When we got back to our house O'Connor began to walk up and down thefloor and twist his moustaches.
"`Did ye see her eyes, Bowers?' he asks me.
"`I did,' says I, `and I can see more than that. It's all coming outaccording to the story-books. I knew there was something missing. 'Twasthe love interest. What is it that comes in Chapter VII to cheer thegallant Irish adventurer? Why, Love, of course--Love that makes the hatgo around. At last we have the eyes of midnight hue and the rose flungfrom the barred window. Now, what comes next? The underground passage--the intercepted letter--the traitor in camp--the hero thrown into adungeon--the mysterious message from the senorita--then theoutburst--the fighting on the plaza--the--'
"'Don't be a fool,' says O'Connor, interrupting. 'But that's the onlywoman in the world for me, Bowers. The O'Connors are as quick to love asthey are to fight. I shall wear that rose over me heart when I lead memen into action. For a good battle to be fought there must be some womanto give it power.'
"`Every time,' I agreed, 'if you want to have a good lively scrap.There's only one thing bothering me. In the novels the light-hairedfriend of the hero always gets killed. Think 'em all over that you'veread, and you'll see that I'm right. I think I'll step down to theBotica Espanola and lay in a bottle of walnut stain before war isdeclared.'
"'How will I find out her name?' says O'Connor, layin' his chin in hishand.
"'Why don't you go across the street and ask her?' says I.
"'Will ye never regard anything in life seriously?' says O'Connor,looking down at me like a schoolmaster.
"'Maybe she meant the rose for me,' I said, whistling the SpanishFandango.
"For the first time since I'd known O'Connor, he laughed. He got up androared and clapped his knees, and leaned against the wall till the tileson the roof clattered to the noise of his lungs. He went into the backroom and looked at himself in the glass and began and laughed all overfrom the beginning again. Then he looked at me and repeated himself.That's why I asked you if you thought an Irishman had any humor. He'dbeen doing farce comedy from the day I saw him without knowing it; andthe first time he had an idea advanced to him with any intelligence init he acted like two twelfths of the sextet in a 'Floradora' roadcompany.
"The next afternoon he comes in with a triumphant smile and begins topull something like ticker tape out of his pocket.
"'Great !' says I. 'This is something like home. How is AmalgamatedCopper to-day?'
"'I've got her name,' says O'Connor, and he reads off something likethis: 'Dona Isabel Antonia Inez Lolita Carreras y Buencaminos yMonteleon. She lives with her mother,' explains O'Connor. 'Her fatherwas killed in the last revolution. She is sure to be in sympathy withour cause.'
"And sure enough the next day she flung a little bunch of roses clearacross the street into our door. O'Connor dived for it and found a pieceof paper curled around a stem with a line in Spanish on it. He draggedthe interpreter out of his corner and got him busy. The interpreterscratched his head, and gave us as a translation three best bets:'Fortune had got a face like the man fighting'; 'Fortune looks like abrave man'; and 'Fortune favors the brave.' We put our money on the lastone.
"'Do ye see?' says O'Connor. 'She intends to encourage me sword to saveher country.'
"'It looks to me like an invitation to supper,' says I.
"So every day this senorita sits behind the barred windows and exhaustsa conservatory or two, one posy at a time. And O'Connor walks like aDominecker rooster and swells his chest and swears to me he will win herby feats of arms and big deeds on the gory field of battle.
"By and by the revolution began to get ripe. One day O'Connor takes meinto the back room and tells me all.
"'Bowers,' says he, 'at twelve o'clock one week from to-day the strugglewill take place. It has pleased ye to find amusement and diversion inthis project because ye have not sense enough to perceive that it iseasily accomplished by a man of courage, intelligence, and historicalsuperiority, such as meself. The whole world over,' says he, 'theO'Connors have ruled men, women, and nations. To subdue a small andindifferent country like this is a trifle. Ye see what little,barefooted manikins the men of it are. I could lick four of 'emsingle-handed.'
"'No doubt,' says I. 'But could you lick six? And suppose they hurled anarmy of seventeen against you?'
"'Listen,' says O'Connor, 'to what will occur. At noon next Tuesday25,000 patriots will rise up in the towns of the republic. Thegovernment will be absolutely unprepared. The public buildings will betaken, the regular army made prisoners, and the new administration setup. In the capital it will not be so easy on account of most of the armybeing stationed there. They will occupy the president's palace and thestrongly fortified government buildings and stand a siege. But on thevery day of the outbreak a body of our troops will begin a march to thecapital from every town as soon as the local victory has been won. Thething is so well planned that it is an impossibility for us to fail. Imeself will lead the troops from here. The new president will be SenorEspadas, now Minister of Finance in the present cabinet.'
"'What do you get?' I asked.
"''Twill be strange,' said O'Connor smiling, 'if I don't have all thejobs handed to me on a silver salver to pick what I choose. I've beenthe brains of the scheme, and when the fighting opens I guess I won't bein the rear rank. Who managed it so our troops could get arms smuggledinto this country? Didn't I arrange it with a New York firm before Ileft there? Our financial agents inform me that 20,000 stands ofWinchester rifles have been delivered a month ago at a secret place upcoast and distributed among the towns. I tell you, Bowers, the game isalready won.'
"Well, that kind of talk kind of shook my disbelief in the infallibilityof the serious Irish gentleman soldier of fortune. It certainly seemedthat the patriotic grafters had gone about the thing in a business way.I looked upon O'Connor with more respect, and began to figure on whatkind of uniform I might wear as Secretary of War.
"Tuesday, the day set for the revolution, came around according toschedule. O'Connor said that a signal had been agreed upon for theuprising. There was an old cannon on the beach near the nationalwarehouse. That had been secretly loaded and promptly at twelve o'clockwas to be fired off. Immediately the revolutionists would seize theirconcealed arms, attack the comandante's troops in the cuartel, andcapture the custom-house and all government property and supplies.
"I was nervous all the morning. And about eleven o'clock O'Connor becameinfused with the excitement and martial spirit of murder. He geared hisfather's sword around him, and walked up and down in the back room likea lion in the Zoo suffering from corns. I smoked a couple of dozencigars, and decided on yellow stripes down the trouser legs of myuniform.
"At half-past eleven O'Connor asks me to take a short stroll through thestreets to see if I could notice any signs of the uprising. I was backin fifteen minutes.
"'Did you hear anything?' he asks.
"'I did,' says I. 'At first I thought it was drums. But it wasn't; itwas snoring. Everybody in town's asleep.'
"O'Connor tears out his watch.
"'Fools!' says he. "They've set the time right at the siesta hour wheneverybody takes a nap. But the cannon will wake 'em up. Everything willbe all right, depend upon it.'
"Just at twelve o'clock we heard the sound of a cannon--BOOM!--shakingthe whole town.
"O'Connor loosens his sword in its scabbard and jumps for the door. Iwent as far as the door and stood in it.
"People were sticking their heads out of doors and windows. But therewas one grand sight that made the landscape look tame.
"General Tumbalo, the comandante, was rolling down the steps of hisresidential dugout, waving a five-foot sabre in his hand. He wore hiscocked and plumed hat and his dress-parade coat covered with gold braidand buttons. Sky-blue pajamas, one rubber boot, and one red-plushslipper completed his make-up.
"The general had heard the cannon, and he puffed down the sidewalktoward the soldiers' barracks as fast as his rudely awakened two hundredpounds could travel.
"O'Connor sees him and lets out a battle-cry and draws his father'ssword and rushes across the street and tackle's the enemy.
"Right there in the street he and the general gave an exhibition ofblacksmithing and butchery. Sparks flew from their blades, the generalroared, and O'Connor gave the slogan of his race and proclivities.
"Then the general's sabre broke in two; and he took to hisginger-colored heels crying out, 'Policios,' at every jump. O'Connorchased him a block, imbued with the sentiment of manslaughter, andslicing buttons off the general's coat tails with the paternal weapon.At the corner five barefooted policemen in cotton undershirts and strawfiats climbed over O'Connor and subjugated him according to themunicipal statutes.
"They brought him past the late revolutionary headquarters on the way tojail. I stood in the door. A policeman had him by each hand and foot,and they dragged him on his back through the grass like a turtle. Twicethey stopped, and the odd policeman took another's place while he rolleda cigarette. The great soldier of fortune turned his head and looked atme as they passed. I blushed, and lit another cigar. The processionpassed on, and at ten minutes past twelve everybody had gone back tosleep again.
"In the afternoon the interpreter came around and smiled as he laid hishand on the big red jar we usually kept ice-water in.
"'The ice-man didn't call to-day,' says I. `What's the matter witheverything, Sancho?'
"`Ah, yes,' says the liver-colored linguist. `They just tell me in thetown. Verree bad act that Senor O'Connor make fight with GeneralTumbalo. Yes, general Tumbalo great soldier and big mans.'
"`What'll they do to Mr. O'Connor?' I asks.
"`I talk little while presently with the Juez de la Paz--what youcall Justice-with-the-peace,' says Sancho. 'He tell me it verree badcrime that one Senor Americano try kill General Tumbalo. He say theykeep Senor O'Connor in jail six months; then have trial and shoot himwith guns. Verree sorree.'
"`How about this revolution that was to be pulled off?' I asks.
"`Oh,' says this Sancho, `I think too hot weather forrevolution. Revolution better in winter-time. Maybe so nextwinter. Quien sabe?'
"'But the cannon went off,' says I. 'The signal was given.'
"'That big sound?' says Sancho, grinning. 'The boiler in ice factoryhe blow up--BOOM! Wake everybody up from siesta. Verree sorree. Noice. Mucho hot day.'
"About sunset I went over to the jail, and they let me talk toO'Connor through the bars.
"'What's the news, Bowers?' says he. 'Have we taken the town? I've beenexpecting a rescue party all the afternoon. I haven't heard any firing.Has any word been received from the capital?'
"'Take it easy, Barney,' says I. 'I think there's been a change ofplans. There's something more important to talk about. Have you anymoney?'
"'I have not,' says O'Connor. 'The last dollar went to pay our hotelbill yesterday. Did our troops capture the custom-house? There ought beplenty of government money there.'
"'Segregate your mind from battles,' says I. 'I've been makinginquiries. You're to be shot six months from date for assault andbattery. I'm expecting to receive fifty years at hard labor forvagrancy. All they furnish you while you're a prisoner is water. Youdepend on your friends for food. I'll see what I can do.'
"I went away and found a silver Chile dollar in an old vest ofO'Connor's. I took him some fried fish and rice for his supper. In themorning I went down to a lagoon and had a drink of water, and then wentback to the jail. O'Connor had a porterhouse steak look in his eye.
"'Barney,' says I, `I've found a pond full of the finest kind of water.It's the grandest, sweetest, purest water in the world. Say the word andI'll go fetch you a bucket of it and you can throw this vile governmentstuff out the window. I'll do anything I can for a friend.'
"`Has it come to this?' says O'Connor, raging up and down his cell. `AmI to be starved to death and then shot? I'll make those traitors feelthe weight of an O'Connor's hand when I get out of this.' And then hecomes to the bars and speaks softer. `Has nothing been heard from DonaIsabel?' he asks. `Though every one else in the world fail,' says he, `Itrust those eyes of hers. She will find a way to effect my release. Doye think ye could communicate with her? One word from her--even a rosewould make me sorrow light. But don't let her know except with theutmost delicacy, Bowers. These high-bred Castilians are sensitive andproud.'
"`Well said, Barney,' says I. 'You've given me an idea. I'll reportlater. Something's got to be pulled off quick, or we'll both starve.'
"I walked out and down to Hooligan Alley, and then on the other side ofthe street. As I went past the window of Dona Isabel Antonia ConchaRegalia, out flies the rose as usual and hits me on the ear.
"The door was open, and I took off my hat and walked in. It wasn't verylight; inside, but there she sat in a rocking-chair by the windowsmoking a black cheroot. And when I got closer I saw that she was aboutthirty-nine, and had never seen a straight front in her life. I sat downon the arm of her chair, and took the cheroot out of her mouth and stolea kiss.
"'Hullo, Izzy,' I says. 'Excuse my unconventionality, but I feel like Ihave known you for a month. Whose Izzy is oo?'
"The lady ducked her head under her mantilla, and drew in a long breath.I thought she was going to scream, but with all that intake of air sheonly came out with: 'Me likee Americanos.'
"As soon as she said that, I knew that O'Connor and me would be doingthings with a knife and fork before the day was over. I drew a chairbeside her, and inside of half an hour we were engaged. Then I took myhat and said I must go out for a while.
"'You come back?' says Izzy, in alarm.
"'Me go bring preacher,' says I. 'Come back twenty minutes. We marrynow. How you likee?'
"'Marry to-day?' says Izzy. 'Good!'
"I went down on the beach to the United States consul's shack. He was agrizzly man, eighty-two pounds, smoked glasses, five foot eleven,pickled. He was playing chess with an india-rubber man in white clothes.
"'Excuse me for interrupting,' says I, `but can you tell me how a mancould get married quick?'
"The consul gets up and fingers in a pigeonhole.
"'I believe I had a license to perform the ceremony myself, a year ortwo ago,' he said. 'I'll look, and----'
"I caught hold of his arm. "'Don't look it up,' says I. 'Marriage is alottery anyway. I'm willing to take the risk about the license if youare.'
"The consul went back to Hooligan Alley with me. Izzy called her ma tocome in, but the old lady was picking a chicken in the patio and beggedto be excused. So we stood up and the consul performed the ceremony.
"That evening Mrs. Bowers cooked a great supper of stewed goat, tamales,baked bananas, fricasseed red peppers and coffee. Afterward I sat in therocking-chair by the front window, and she sat on the floor plunking ata guitar and happy, as she should be, as Mrs. William T.B.
"All at once I sprang up in a hurry. I'd forgotten all about O'Connor. Iasked Izzy to fix up a lot of truck for him to eat.
"'That big, oogly man,' said Izzy. 'But all right--he your friend.'
"I pulled a rose out of a bunch in a jar, and took the grub-basketaround to the jail. O'Connor ate like a wolf. Then he wiped his facewith a banana peel and said: `Have you heard nothing from Dona Isabelyet?'
"'Hist!' says I, slipping the rose between the bars. 'She sends youthis. She bids you take courage. At nightfall two masked men brought itto the ruined chateau in the orange grove. How did you like that goathash, Barney?'
"O'Connor pressed the rose to his lips. "'This is more to me than allthe food in the world,' says he. 'But the supper was fine. Where didyou raise it?'
"'I've negotiated a stand-off at a delicatessen but downtown,' I tellshim. 'Rest easy. If there's anything to be done I'll do it.'
"So things went along that way for some weeks. Izzy was a great cook;and if she had had a little more poise of character and smoked a littlebetter brand of tobacco we might have drifted into some sense ofresponsibility for the honor I had conferred on her. But as time went onI began to hunger for the sight of a real lady standing before me in astreet-car. All I was staying in that land of bilk and money for wasbecause I couldn't get away, and I thought it no more than decent tostay and see O'Connor shot.
"One day our old interpreter drops around and after smoking an hour saysthat the judge of the peace sent him to request me to call on him. Iwent to his office in a lemon grove on a hill at the edge of the town;and there I had a surprise. I expected to see one of the usualcinnamon-colored natives in congress gaiters and one of Pizzaro'scast-off hats. What I saw was an elegant gentleman of a slightlyclaybank complexion sitting in an upholstered leather chair, sipping ahighball and reading Mrs. Humphry Ward. I had smuggled into my brain afew words of Spanish by the help of Izzy, and I began to remark in arich Andalusian brogue:
"'Buenas dias, senor. Yo tengo--yo tengo--'
"'Oh, sit down, Mr. Bowers,' says he. 'I spent eight years in yourcountry in colleges and law schools. Let me mix you a highball. Lemonpeel, or not?'
"Thus we got along. In about half an hour I was beginning to tell himabout the scandal in our family when Aunt Elvira ran away with aCumberland Presbyterian preacher. Then he says to me:
"'I sent for you, Mr. Bowers, to let you know that you can have yourfriend Mr. O'Connor now. Of course we had to make a show of punishinghim on account of his attack on General Tumbalo. It is arranged that heshall be released to-morrow night. You and he will be conveyed on boardthe fruit steamer Voyager, bound for New York, which lies in the harbor.Your passage will be arranged for.'
"'One moment, judge,' says I; 'that revolution--'
"The judge lays back in his chair and howls. "'Why,' says he presently,'that was all a little joke fixed up by the boys around the court-room,and one or two of our cut-ups, and a few clerks in the stores. The townis bursting its sides with laughing. The boys made themselves up to beconspirators, and they--what you call it?--stick Senor O'Connor for hismoney. It is very funny.'
"'It was,' says I. 'I saw the joke all along. I'll take anotherhighball, if your Honor don't mind.'
"The next evening just at dark a couple of soldiers brought O'Connordown to the beach, where I was waiting under a cocoanut-tree.
"'Hist!' says I in his ear: 'Dona Isabel has arranged our escape. Not aword!'
"They rowed us in a boat out to a little steamer that smelled of tabled'hote salad oil and bone phosphate.
"The great, mellow, tropical moon was rising as we steamed away.O'Connor leaned on the taffrail or rear balcony of the ship and gazedsilently at Guaya--at Buncoville-on-the-Beach.
"He had the red rose in his hand.
"'She will wait,' I heard him say. 'Eyes like hers never deceive. But Ishall see her again. Traitors cannot keep an O'Connor down forever.'
"'You talk like a sequel,' says I. 'But in Volume II please omit thelight-haired friend who totes the grub to the hero in his dungeon cell.'
"And thus reminiscing, we came back to New York."
There was a little silence broken only by the familiar roar of thestreets after Kansas Bill Bowers ceased talking.
"Did O'Connor ever go back?" I asked.
"He attained his heart's desire," said Bill. "Can you walk two blocks?I'll show you."
He led me eastward and down a flight of stairs that was covered by acurious-shaped glowing, pagoda-like structure. Signs and figures on thetiled walls and supporting columns attested that we were in the GrandCentral station of the subway. Hundreds of people were on the midwayplatform.
An uptown express dashed up and halted. It was crowded. There was arush for it by a still larger crowd.
Towering above every one there a magnificent, broad-shouldered, athleticman leaped into the centre of the struggle. Men and women he seized ineither hand and hurled them like manikins toward the open gates of thetrain.
Now and then some passenger with a shred of soul and self-respect leftto him turned to offer remonstrance; but the blue uniform on thetowering figure, the fierce and conquering glare of his eye and theready impact of his ham-like hands glued together the lips that wouldhave spoken complaint.
When the train was full, then he exhibited to all who might observe andadmire his irresistible genius as a ruler of men. With his knees, withhis elbows, with his shoulders, with his resistless feet he shoved,crushed, slammed, heaved, kicked, flung, pounded the overplus ofpassengers aboard. Then with the sounds of its wheels drowned by themoans, shrieks, prayers, and curses of its unfortunate crew, the expressdashed away.
"That's him. Ain't he a wonder?" said Kansas Bill admiringly. "Thattropical country wasn't the place for him. I wish the distinguishedtraveller, writer, war correspondent, and playright, Richmond HobsonDavis, could see him now. O'Connor ought to be dramatized."
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