escaped--no doubt of it--I myself saw near Malines--perfectly
dreadful--tout-à-fait terrible."

"Twenty-five thousand dollars' worth of mats all spoiled, colors ran,
didn't set, no good. This war is raising the devil with the United
States textiles. Maybe the Germans won't get a glad hand when they come
back. We hear that they're going to flood the market with good,
low-priced dyes so as to bust up the new American plants. Haven't you
heard them hollerin' for tariff protection? I'm going over to look up a
new green dye the French are getting out. We hear it's pretty good
stuff. What are you boys doing, looking for contracts?"

The Iowan replied that he hoped to get into an English cavalry regiment,
and I mentioned the corps I had joined.

"Well, don't get killed," exclaimed the dye-stuffs agent paternally, and
settled down in his chair for a nap.

It was the third day out; the ocean was still the salty green color of
the American waters, and big, oily, unrippled waves were rising and
falling under the August sun. From the rail I saw coming toward us over
the edge of the earth, a small tramp steamer marked with two white
blotches which, as the vessel neared, resolved themselves into painted
reproductions of the Swedish flag. Thus passed the Thorvald, carrying a
mark of the war across the lonely seas.

"That's a Swedish boat," said a voice at my elbow.

"Yes," I replied.