This is the story that William Trotter told me on the beach at Aguas
Frescas while I waited for the gig of the captain of the fruit steamer
_Andador_ which was to take me abroad. Reluctantly I was leaving the
Land of Always Afternoon. William was remaining, and he favored me with
a condensed oral autobiography as we sat on the sands in the shade cast
by the Bodega Nacional.

As usual, I became aware that the Man from Bombay had already written
the story; but as he had compressed it to an eight-word sentence, I have
become an expansionist, and have quoted his phrase above, with apologies
to him and best regards to _Terence_.


II

"Don't you ever have a desire to go back to the land of derby hats and
starched collars?" I asked him. "You seem to be a handy man and a man of
action," I continued, "and I am sure I could find you a comfortable job
somewhere in the States."

Ragged, shiftless, barefooted, a confirmed eater of the lotos, William
Trotter had pleased me much, and I hated to see him gobbled up by the
tropics.

"I've no doubt you could," he said, idly splitting the bark from a
section of sugar-cane. "I've no doubt you could do much for me. If every
man could do as much for himself as he can for others, every country in
the world would be holding millenniums instead of centennials."

There seemed to be pabulum in W. T.'s words. And then another idea came