“Exactly,” Brainard laughed. “I can’t say how much is business and how much pleasure.” “And possibly a dash of—something else?” Hollinger suggested genially. “Well, let’s have another drink on it. _Mozo_! . . . A southern gentleman who resides in Jalapa has taught these people how to make his favorite form of booze. It is cooled by snow brought from the mountains on mule back—and is very refreshing.” When the waiter had brought two high glasses filled with the crystal flakes of snow, the fight-trust magnate grew more expansive. “Yes, shortly after I had the pleasure of making your acquaintance I found the climate of California uncongenial to my nerves, for the first time in my life, and having business interests in Mexico I took a little vacation. Delightful time of the year here, don’t you think?” Brainard agreed enthusiastically. “You didn’t make a long stay with us on the Coast,” Hollinger remarked, with the shadow of a smile. Brainard knew that the fight-trust man suspected his story, but judged it wiser to avoid personal confidences. For this reason he refrained from inquiring whether the American’s business had to do with some notable encounter that was to be staged in Mexico in order to avoid the laws in the States. Hollinger’s next remark seemed to indicate that such was his “business interest” in this country. “We are apt to look down upon Mexico,” he said sententiously. “But it is a great country. We say that it is not civilized. That is just why it is a great country. It is not civilized in our peculiar, narrow way, and hence we deny that it has any civilization.” “It certainly has fleas,” Brainard threw in flippantly. “Exactly, young man—it has fleas and therefore you think it is barbarous. You have been brought up among a people that regards cleanliness as above godliness and the other fellow’s godliness of more importance than his own! That is what is called Puritanism. You understand me?” Brainard nodded. He began to comprehend the results of Hollinger’s reading on the Overland. “Now,” continued Hollinger, clearing his throat, “I have nothing to say against Puritanism. It’s a very good thing for some people. It did some mighty fine work in the world.” “Discovered Plymouth Rock, for instance.” “Yes, and created the nicest lot of little hypocritical tight-wads there in New England the world has ever seen. We needed those tight-wads out west—we needed their bank accounts, I mean to say. But we don’t need ’em any longer, only they can’t understand it and keep shoving their morals in our faces. That’s the trouble with America all over at the present date. Puritanism breaks out here, there, and everywhere, like the measles. And it always means trying to make the other feller as good as you think he oughter be—and a damn sight better than you are yourself!”