Caribbean Area -- Fiction; Disguise -- Fiction; Entomologists -- Fiction; Heiresses -- Fiction; Love stories
Carroll nodded, and his host, disappearing within the quinta, returned
almost at once with an envelope on which the address was written in
pencil. The Southerner took it and rose from the porch, where he had
flung himself to rest.
“Perkins,” he said, with some effort, “I’ve thought and said some hard
things about you.”
“Naturally enough,” murmured the other.
“Do you want me to apologize?”
The scientist stared. “Do you want me to thank you for to-night’s
work?” he countered.
“No.”
“Well—”
“All right.”
The two men, different in every quality except that of essential
manhood, smiled at each other with a profound mutual understanding.
There was a silent handshake, and Carroll set off down the mountain
toward the sunrise glow.
XIII.
LEFT BEHIND
Dawn crested, poised, and broke in a surf of splendor upon the great
mountain-line that overhangs Puerto del Norte. Where, at the
corporation dock, there had lurked the shadow of a yacht, gray-black
against blue-black, there now swung a fairy ship of purest silver,
cradled upon a swaying mirror. Tiny insects, touched to life by the
radiance, scuttled busily about her decks and swarmed out upon the
dock. The seagoing yacht Polly had awakened early.
Down the mule path that forms the shortest cut from the railway station
straggled a group of minute creatures. To one watching from the
mountain-side with powerful field-glasses—such as, for example, a
convinced and ardent hater of the Caribbean Sea, curled up with his
back against a cold and Voiceless rock—it might have appeared that the
group was carrying an unusual quantity of hand luggage. Yet they were
not porters; so much, even at a great distance, their apparel
proclaimed. The pirates of porterdom do not get up to meet
five-o’clock-in-the-morning specials in Caracuña.
The little group gathered close at the pier, then separated, two going
aboard, and the others disappearing into sundry streets and reappearing
presently at the water-front with other figures. The human form cannot
be distinctly seen, at a distance of three miles, to rub its eyes;
neither can it be heard to curse; but there was that in the newer
figures which suggested a sudden and reluctant surrender of sleeping
privileges. Had our supposititious watcher possessed an intimate and
contemptuous knowledge of Caracuña officialdom, he would have surmised
that lavish sums of money had been employed to stir the port and
customs officials to such untimely activity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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