"No, you won't; that's the beauty of it. The majesty of the law--all
there is of it in Argentine--goes with me to Carbonate in the person
of the town-marshal."

"Oh, good--succulently good! Well, so long. I'll look for you back on
the evening train?"

"Sure," was the confident reply, "if the Rajah doesn't order it to be
abandoned on my poor account."

Ten minutes later, when the train had gone storming on its way to
Carbonate and the Rosemary party was at breakfast, the clank of steel
and the chanteys of the hammermen on the other side of the canyon
began again with renewed vigor. The Rajah threw up his head like a
war-horse scenting the battle from afar and laid his commands upon the
long-suffering secretary.

"Faveh me, Jastrow. Get out there and see what they are doing, seh."

The secretary was back in the shortest possible interval, and his
report was concise and business-like.

"Work under full headway again, in charge of a fellow who wears a
billy-cock hat and smokes cigarettes."

"Mr. Morton P. Adams," said Virginia, recognizing the description.
"Will you have him arrested too, Uncle Somerville?"

But the Rajah rose hastily without replying and went to his office