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
soul would merely offend his feelings and his intelligence.

So, with much mystery, I asked him to describe the "situation," and he
did so with the exactness of one who believes that within an hour every
word he speaks will be cabled to the White House.

When I was leaving he said: "Oh, there's a newspaper correspondent after
you. He wants an interview, I guess. He followed you last night from the