Agustin studied him quietly. When the[Pg 4] Briton spoke he lost something of his reserve. His glance got keen, and his eyes had a curious hawk-like look. The priest could imagine him as swift and determined in action; quick to seize an advantage, but not a good plotter.

[Pg 4]

"For all that, it is a quality that is useful when one deals with the Latins, at Rio Frio, or elsewhere," the priest said.

"With apologies, padre, that is certainly true," Walthew agreed.

"So you have some business here? Perhaps, like the others, you seek a mineral concession."

"No. Our host, Don Martin, is of course out of office and doesn't deal in them."

"He never will," the priest said quietly. "The natural wealth of this country belongs to its people, but it is stolen from them, piece by piece, and given to foreigners."

"The foreigners pay for what they get."

"Yes," said the priest; "but where does the money go? If it were spent on the development of the country, one would not complain; but it is gamblers and courtezans who benefit. Those who hold office here fill their pockets from the public purse, and what is left when they are satisfied is needed to keep the Government in power."

"Then, why do you not reform your administration and put in straight men?"

Father Agustin indicated the drowsy group at the back of the café.

"These are our politicians! They meet every day and ruminate over the affairs of the nation. Think of it!"

[Pg 5]"Well," said Walthew, "they do not look busy; but things do happen here now and then."

[Pg 5]

"It is true. A clique breaks up, there is a new coalition, and those who plotted each other's downfall are united again. We Latins have seldom a continuous policy. Sometimes there is a tumult in the streets and disaffection among the troops; then the man who rules us uses the whip. One hears of no trial, but a malcontent is missing, an officer's duty takes him to the fever jungles, where he cannot live. Sometimes, before the morning mist has lifted, one is wakened by a volley in the ditch behind the citadel."

"You are a patient race," Grahame remarked.

 Prev. P 5/234 next