receive our minister, and at Porto Banos a mob had made the tin sign of
the United States consulate look like a sieve. Our minister urged me to
remain. To be bombarded by one's own war-ships, he assured me, would be
a thrilling experience.

But I repeated that my business was with Panama, not Valencia, and that
if in this matter of his row I had any weight at Washington, as between
preserving the nitrate beds for the trust, and preserving for his
country and various sweethearts one brown-throated, clean-limbed
bluejacket, I was for the bluejacket.

Accordingly, when I sailed from Valencia the aged diplomat would have
described our relations as strained.

Our ship was a slow ship, listed to touch at many ports, and as early as
noon on the following day we stopped for cargo at Trujillo. It was there
I met Schnitzel.

In Panama I had bought a macaw for a little niece of mine, and while we
were taking on cargo I went ashore to get a tin cage in which to put
it, and, for direction, called upon our consul. From an inner room he
entered excitedly, smiling at my card, and asked how he might serve me.
I told him I had a parrot below decks, and wanted to buy a tin cage.

"Exactly. You want a tin cage," the consul repeated soothingly. "The
State Department doesn't keep me awake nights cabling me what it's
going to do," he said, "but at least I know it doesn't send a
thousand-dollar-a-minute, four-cylinder lawyer all the way to this fever
swamp to buy a tin cage. Now, honest, how can I serve you?" I saw it was
hopeless. No one would believe the truth. To offer it to this friendly