``Listen,'' said Langham, holding up his hand.``There goes the call for prayers in the convent, and now it's too late to go to town.I am glad, rather.I'm too tired to keep awake, and besides, they don't know how to amuse themselves in a civilized way--at least not in my way.I wish I could just drop in at home about now; don't you, MacWilliams? Just about this time up in God's country all the people are at the theatre, or they've just finished dinner and are sitting around sipping cool green mint, trickling through little lumps of ice.What I'd like--'' he stopped and shut one eye and gazed, with his head on one side, at the unimaginative MacWilliams--``what I'd like to do now,''
he continued, thoughtfully, ``would be to sit in the front row at a comic opera, ON THE AISLE.The prima donna must be very, very beautiful, and sing most of her songs at me, and there must be three comedians, all good, and a chorus entirely composed of girls.I never could see why they have men in the chorus, anyway.No one ever looks at them.Now that's where I'd like to be.What would you like, MacWilliams?''
MacWilliams was a type with which Clay was intimately familiar, but to the college-bred Langham he was a revelation and a joy.
He came from some little town in the West, and had learned what he knew of engineering at the transit's mouth, after he had first served his apprenticeship by cutting sage-brush and driving stakes.His life had been spent in Mexico and Central America, and he spoke of the home he had not seen in ten years with the aggressive loyalty of the confirmed wanderer, and he was known to prefer and to import canned corn and canned tomatoes in preference to eating the wonderful fruits of the country, because the former came from the States and tasted to him of home.He had crowded into his young life experiences that would have shattered the nerves of any other man with a more sensitive conscience and a less happy sense of humor; but these same experiences had only served to make him shrewd and self-confident and at his ease when the occasion or difficulty came.
He pulled meditatively on his pipe and considered Langham's question deeply, while Clay and the younger boy sat with their arms upon their knees and waited for his decision in thoughtful silence.
``I'd like to go to the theatre, too,'' said MacWilliams, with an air as though to show that he also was possessed of artistic tastes.``I'd like to see a comical chap I saw once in '80--oh, long ago--before I joined the P.Q.& M.He WAS funny.His name was Owens; that was his name, John E.Owens--''
``Oh, for heaven's sake, MacWilliams,'' protested Langham, in dismay; ``he's been dead for five years.''
``Has he?'' said MacWilliams, thoughtfully.``Well--'' he concluded, unabashed, ``I can't help that, he's the one I'd like to see best.''
``You can have another wish, Mac, you know,'' urged Langham, ``can't he, Clay?''
Clay nodded gravely, and MacWilliams frowned again in thought.
``No,'' he said after an effort, ``Owens, John E.Owens; that's the one I want to see.''
``Well, now I want another wish, too,'' said Langham.``Imove we can each have two wishes.I wish--''
``Wait until I've had mine,'' said Clay.``You've had one turn.
I want to be in a place I know in Vienna.It's not hot like this, but cool and fresh.It's an open, out-of-door concert-garden, with hundreds of colored lights and trees, and there's always a breeze coming through.And Eduard Strauss, the son, you know, leads the orchestra there, and they play nothing but waltzes, and he stands in front of them, and begins by raising himself on his toes, and then he lifts his shoulders gently--and then sinks back again and raises his baton as though he were drawing the music out after it, and the whole place seems to rock and move.It's like being picked up and carried on the deck of a yacht over great waves; and all around you are the beautiful Viennese women and those tall Austrian officers in their long, blue coats and flat hats and silver swords.And there are cool drinks--'' continued Clay, with his eyes fixed on the coming storm--``all sorts of cool drinks--in high, thin glasses, full of ice, all the ice you want--''
``Oh, drop it, will you?'' cried Langham, with a shrug of his damp shoulders.``I can't stand it.I'm parching.''
``Wait a minute,'' interrupted MacWilliams, leaning forward and looking into the night.``Some one's coming.'' There was a sound down the road of hoofs and the rattle of the land-crabs as they scrambled off into the bushes, and two men on horseback came suddenly out of the darkness and drew rein in the light from the open door.The first was General Mendoza, the leader of the Opposition in the Senate, and the other, his orderly.The General dropped his Panama hat to his knee and bowed in the saddle three times.
``Good-evening, your Excellency,'' said Clay, rising.``Tell that peon to get my coat, will you?'' he added, turning to Langham.Langham clapped his hands, and the clanging of a guitar ceased, and their servant and cook came out from the back of the hut and held the General's horse while he dismounted.``Wait until I get you a chair,'' said Clay.``You'll find those steps rather bad for white duck.''
``I am fortunate in finding you at home,'' said the officer, smiling, and showing his white teeth.``The telephone is not working.I tried at the club, but I could not call you.''
``It's the storm, I suppose,'' Clay answered, as he struggled into his jacket.``Let me offer you something to drink.'' He entered the house, and returned with several bottles on a tray and a bundle of cigars.The Spanish-American poured himself out a glass of water, mixing it with Jamaica rum, and said, smiling again, ``It is a saying of your countrymen that when a man first comes to Olancho he puts a little rum into his water, and that when he is here some time he puts a little water in his rum.''
``Yes,'' laughed Clay.``I'm afraid that's true.''