The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
Ainslee's Magazine
resident--a banana king, a rubber prince, a
sarsaparilla, indigo and mahogany baron.
The sefiorita married this American one
month after the ill-fated President was
buried with military dishonors, and while
the "Vivas" of the new administration were
saluting Liberty and prospective spoils.
The house of the American is to be seen
on a bald foot-hill of the Cordilleras near
the town. It is a conglomerate structure of
the finest woods, brick, glass, palm, thatch,
adobe and bamboo. The natives speak of its
interior with admiration-" figure-it-to-your-
self"-there are floors polished like mirrors,
hand-woven Indian rugs of silk fibre, tall
glasses, musical instruments, and painted
walls.
Of the American, Don Frank Mackenzie,
and of his wife, they have nothing but good
to say. Don Frank has lived among them
for years, and has compelled their respect.
His lady is easily queen of what social life
the sober coast affords. The Commandante's
wife, herself, who was of the proud Castilian
family of Monteleon y Dolorosa de los Santos
y Mendez, feels honored to untold her napkin
with olive-hued, ringed hands at the table
of the Sefiora Mackenzie. Were you to
refer-- with your northern prejudices-to
the vivacious past of Mrs. Mackenzie, when
her gleeful abandon upon the comic opera
stage captured the mature President's fancy,
or to her part in that statesman's downfall
and malfeasance, the Latin shrug of the
shoulder would be your only answer and
rebuttal. The native dames admired the
beautiful American lady, and many of them
envied her possession of the marriage cer-
tificate signed by the good Padre Espirition.
It would seem that the story is ended;
that the close of a tragedy and the climax
of a romance have covered the ground of
interest, but, to the more curious reader it
shall be some slight instruction to learn
why the old Indian, IGalvez, is secretly paid
to keep green the grave of President Mira-
flores by one who never saw that statesman
in life or death. Also, why Don Emilio
Villanueva, Minister of Finance during the
Miraflores administration, and close friend
to the deceased President, should, after din-
ing at Mackenzie's house during a short visit
to the coast, make the following remark to
a friend :
"F-f-f-f-t! I say it to you. Twenty times,
in the Capital, I have taken wine in the
company of Dofia Julia Gordon. As many
times I have heard her sing like the riiscior
that she was. Por el cucrpo die Cristo this
Madame Mackenzie-a uque un Senora mluy
gruil(hle-is no more Dona Julia Gordon
than I, myself, am. Figuraselo!"
The threads of the events reach far, -
stretching across the sea. Following them
out, it will also be made clear why Shorty
Flynn of the Columbia Detective Bureau, New
York, lost his job. Also why Dr. Angel, a
middle-aged, dark-featured poseur of the bou-
levards of Paris, smokes two-franc cigars.
Cibolo lay in its usual stupor. The Carib-
bean swished upon the sand beach, the par-
rots screamed in the range and ceiba trees,
the palms were waving their limber fronds
foolishly, like an awkward chorus at the
prima donna's cue to enter.
Suddenly the town was full of excitement.
A boy dashed down the grass-grown street,
shrieking, "Busca el ,S'c/for M 1 clelzic. Un
tclcirqfo por el!" Knots of women, ox-
eyed, bare-armed, ecru-complexioned, gath-
ered at corners and caroled plaintively to
one another: "Un, tcletgraf por Secior
lrac e nzic." The word spread swiftly. The
Commandante, who was loyal to the Ins,
and suspected Mackenzie's devotion to the
Outs, hissed "Aha !" and wrote in his secret
memorandum book, ",Julio el 10-Vin' un
tcl(rqotb por ,cilot' I."
Informed by a dozen voluntary messengers,
Seflor Mackenzie emerged from some con-
tiguity of shade, and proceeded toward the
telegraph office. The ox-eyed women
gazed at him with shy admiration, for his
type drew them. lie was big, blond and
jauntily dressed in white linen and buckskin
zaptos. Ilis manner was bold, but kind,
and humorous.
The dispatch was from Bob Engelhardt, a
"Gringo" in the capital city, an ice manu-
facturer, a sworn revolutionist, and "good
people." The wily Bob seemed to have cir-
cumvented successfully the impossibility of
sending a confidential message in either
Spanish or English. The result was the fol-
lowing literary gem:
"His nibs s:edaddild yesterday per jack rabbit line
ith all the spoindulicks in the pot, and the bunch of
calico he 's splons on. She's l -'l ch, 'asy. Oiur crowd
in good shape, but the boodle is six fiulres short. We
must have the swag the main guy scooped. You collar
it. Hie's head for the brin. You know what to do."
This remarkable screed conveyed the in-
formation to Mackenzie that the I'resideni
had decamped for the coast with the public
money, accompanied by the opera singer.
Julia IGordon, his infatuation for whom was
the gossip of the republic.
Ib ' ' - --I I Is I I I
300