all rubbish; it's the poorest stuff in the mines.''

Hope nodded her head again and crowded her pony on after the
moving group, but her sister and King did not follow. King
looked at her and smiled. ``Hope is very enthusiastic,'' he
said. ``Where did she pick it up?''

``Oh, she and father used to go over it in his study last winter
after Ted came down here,'' Miss Langham answered, with a touch
of impatience in her tone. ``Isn't there some place where we can
go to get out of this heat?''

Weimer, the Consul, heard her and led her back to Kirkland's
bungalow, that hung like an eagle's nest from a projecting cliff.
From its porch they could look down the valley over the greater
part of the mines, and beyond to where the Caribbean Sea lay
flashing in the heat.

``I saw very few Americans down there, Weimer,'' said King. ``I
thought Clay had imported a lot of them.''

``About three hundred altogether, wild Irishmen and negroes,''
said the Consul; ``but we use the native soldiers chiefly. They
can stand the climate better, and, besides,'' he added, ``they
act as a reserve in case of trouble. They are Mendoza's men, and
Clay is trying to win them away from him.''

``I don't understand,'' said King.

Weimer looked around him and waited until Kirkland's servant had