some money from the Isthmian Line, and old man Fiske threw him out of
the palace and made Alvarez president."

I was beginning to find the politics of the revolution into which I
had precipitated myself somewhat involved, and I suppose I looked
puzzled, for Aiken laughed.

"You can laugh," I said, "but it is rather confusing. Who is Fiske? Is
he another revolutionist?"

"Fiske!" exclaimed Aiken. "Don't tell me you don't know who Fiske is?
I mean old man Fiske, the Wall Street banker--Joseph Fiske, the one
who owns the steam yacht and all the railroads."

I had of course heard of that Joseph Fiske, but his name to me was
only a word meaning money. I had never thought of Joseph Fiske as a
human being. At school and at the Point when we wanted to give the
idea of wealth that could not be counted we used to say, "As rich as
Joe Fiske." But I answered, in a tone that suggested that I knew him
intimately:

"Oh, that Fiske," I said. "But what has he to do with Honduras?"

"He owns it," Aiken answered. "It's like this," he began. "You must
understand that almost every republic in Central America is under the
thumb of a big trading firm or a banking house or a railroad. For
instance, all these revolutions you read about in the papers--it's
seldom they start with the people. The _puebleo_ don't often elect a
president or turn one out. That's generally the work of a New York
business firm that wants a concession. If the president in office