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in with me on the proposition。〃
〃You can trust me；〃 I said。
And here I am； blazing out into print with the whole story just as he
told it to me as we sat on a bench by the lagoon before the Palace of Fine
Arts with the cries of the sea gulls in our ears。 Well； he should have kept
his appointment with me。 But I anticipate。
As we started to leave the building and hunt for a seat； a small woman；
possibly thirty years of age； with a washed…out complexion of the farmer's
wife sort； darted up to him in a bird…like way； for all the world like the
darting veering gulls over our heads and fastened herself to his arm with
the accuracy and dispatch and inevitableness of a piece of machinery。
〃There you go！〃 she shrilled。 〃A…trottin' right off and never givin' me
a thought。〃
I was formally introduced to her。 It was patent that she had never
heard of me； and she surveyed me bleakly with shrewd black eyes； set
close together and as beady and restless as a bird's。
〃You ain't goin' to tell him about that hussy？〃 she complained。
〃Well； now； Sarah； this is business； you see；〃 he argued plaintively。
〃I've been lookin' for a likely man this long while； and now that he's
shown up it seems to me I got a right to give him the hang of what
happened。〃
The small woman made no reply； but set her thin lips in a needle… like
line。 She gazed straight before her at the Tower of Jewels with so austere
an expression that no glint of refracted sunlight could soften it。 We
proceeded slowly to the lagoon； managed to obtain an unoccupied seat；
and sat down with mutual sighs of relief as we released our weights from
our tortured sightseeing feet。
〃One does get so mortal weary；〃 asserted the small woman； almost
defiantly。
Two swans waddled up from the mirroring water and investigated us。
When their suspicions of our niggardliness or lack of peanuts had been
confirmed； Jones half…turned his back on his life…partner and gave me his
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story。
〃Ever been in Ecuador？ Then take my advice … and don't。 Though I
take that back； for you and me might be hitting it for there together if you
can rustle up the faith in me and the backbone in yourself for the trip。
Well； anyway； it ain't so many years ago that I came ambling in there on a
rusty； foul…bottomed； tramp collier from Australia； forty…three days from
land to land。 Seven knots was her speed when everything favoured； and
we'd had a two weeks' gale to the north'ard of New Zealand； and broke our
engines down for two days off Pitcairn Island。
〃I was no sailor on her。 I'm a locomotive engineer。 But I'd made
friends with the skipper at Newcastle an' come along as his guest for as far
as Guayaquil。 You see； I'd heard wages was 'way up on the American
railroad runnin' from that place over the Andes to Quito。 Now Guayaquil
… 〃
〃Is a fever…hole；〃 I interpolated。
Julian Jones nodded。
〃Thomas Nast died there of it within a month after he landed。 … He was
our great American cartoonist；〃 I added。
〃Don't know him；〃 Julian Jones said shortly。 〃But I do know he
wasn't the first to pass out by a long shot。 Why； look you the way I found
it。 The pilot grounds is sixty miles down the river。 'How's the fever？' said
I to the pilot who came aboard in the early morning。 'See that Hamburg
barque；' said he； pointing to a sizable ship at anchor。 'Captain and
fourteen men dead of it already； and the cook and two men dying right
now； and they're the last left of her。'
〃And by jinks he told the truth。 And right then they were dying forty
a day in Guayaquil of Yellow Jack。 But that was nothing； as I was to find
out。 Bubonic plague and small…pox were raging； while dysentery and
pneumonia were reducing the population； and the railroad was raging
worst of all。 I mean that。 For them that insisted in riding on it； it was
more dangerous than all the other diseases put together。
〃When we dropped anchor off Guayaquil half a dozen skippers from
other steamers came on board to warn our skipper not to let any of his
crew or officers go ashore except the ones he wanted to lose。 A launch
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THE RED ONE
came off for me from Duran； which is on the other side of the river and is
the terminal of the railroad。 And it brought off a man that soared up the
gangway three jumps at a time he was that eager to get aboard。 When he
hit the deck he hadn't time to speak to any of us。 He just leaned out over
the rail and shook his fist at Duran and shouted： 'I beat you to it！ I beat
you to it！'
〃'Who'd you beat to it； friend？' I asked。 'The railroad；' he said； as he
unbuckled the straps and took off a big '44 Colt's automatic from where he
wore it handy on his left side under his coat； 'I staved as long as I agreed …
three months … and it didn't get me。 I was a conductor。'
〃And that was the railroad I was to work for。 All of which was
nothing to what he told me in the next few minutes。 The road ran from
sea level at Duran up to twelve thousand feet on Chimborazo and down to
ten thousand at Quito on the other side the range。 And it was so
dangerous that the trains didn't run nights。 The through passengers had
to get off and sleep in the towns at night while the train waited for daylight。
And each train carried a guard of Ecuadoriano soldiers which was the
most dangerous of all。 They were supposed to protect the train crews；
but whenever trouble started they unlimbered their rifles and joined the
mob。 You see； whenever a train wreck occurred； the first cry of the
spiggoties was 'Kill the Gringos！' They always did that； and proceeded to
kill the train crew and whatever chance Gringo passengers that'd escaped
being killed in the accident。 Which is their kind of arithmetic； which I
told you a while b