crossing the island to bother me again, the cattle would see to that. I don&rsquo;t know what induced me to ask&mdash; </p> <p> &ldquo;&lsquo;What sort of workman?&rsquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t care a hang whether he answered me or not. But when he said at once, &lsquo;Mecanicien, monsieur,&rsquo; I nearly jumped out of the saddle with excitement. The launch had been lying disabled and idle in the creek for three weeks. My duty to the company was clear. He noticed my start, too, and there we were for a minute or so staring at each other as if bewitched. </p> <p> &ldquo;&lsquo;Get up on my horse behind me,&rsquo; I told him. &lsquo;You shall put my steam-launch to rights.&rsquo;&rdquo; </p> <p> These are the words in which the worthy manager of the Maranon estate related to me the coming of the supposed anarchist. He meant to keep him&mdash;out of a sense of duty to the company&mdash;and the name he had given him would prevent the fellow from obtaining employment anywhere in Horta. The vaqueros of the estate, when they went on leave, spread it all over the town. They did not know what an anarchist was, nor yet what Barcelona meant. They called him Anarchisto de Barcelona, as if it were his Christian name and surname. But the people in town had been reading in their papers about the anarchists in Europe and were very much impressed. Over the jocular addition of &ldquo;de Barcelona&rdquo; Mr. Harry Gee chuckled with immense satisfaction. &ldquo;That breed is particularly murderous, isn&rsquo;t it? It makes the sawmills crowd still more afraid of having anything to do with him&mdash;see?&rdquo; he exulted, candidly. &ldquo;I hold him by that name better than if I had him chained up by the leg to the deck of the steam-launch. </p> <p> &ldquo;And mark,&rdquo; he added, after a pause, &ldquo;he does not deny it. I am not wronging him in any way. He is a convict of some sort, anyhow.&rdquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;But I suppose you pay him some wages, don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; I asked. </p> <p> &ldquo;Wages! What does he want with money here? He gets his food from my kitchen and his clothing from the store. Of course I&rsquo;ll give him something at the end of the year, but you don&rsquo;t think I&rsquo;d employ a convict and give him the same money I would give an honest man? I am looking after the interests of my company first and last.&rdquo; </p> <p> I admitted that, for a company spending fifty thousand pounds every year in advertising, the strictest economy was obviously necessary. The manager of the Maranon Estancia grunted approvingly. </p> <p> &ldquo;And I&rsquo;ll tell you what,&rdquo; he continued: &ldquo;if I were certain he&rsquo;s an