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Updated: June 2, 2025
So I zigzagged along with a hand-shake and a decorous "Buenas noches" to everybody till I found myself at the end of the line at an open window. Here one of those little oblong tables, across which the Filipinos are fond of talking, separated me from a lady, unquestionably of the white races, who received the distinction of personal mention.
Thacker, the United States consul at Buenas Tierras, was not yet drunk. It was only eleven o'clock; and he never arrived at his desired state of beatitude a state wherein he sang ancient maudlin vaudeville songs and pelted his screaming parrot with banana peels until the middle of the afternoon.
I shook him off and, marching in with martial stride and a haughty carelessness of attitude, sat down in the only chair in the room except that occupied by the commander, with a hearty: "Buenas tardes, colonel." He was a typical guatemalteco in whole trousers and an open shirt, but of some education, for he was writing with moderate rapidity at his homemade desk. He also wore shoes.
Billie knew that irregular rattling hum, and insensibly quickened her pace. Then as the car drew close behind her she slowed, a peculiar light glinting in her eyes. "Buenas tardes, Señorita Billie!" A merry, mocking voice called, and she wheeled about.
Andres had well calculated his time, for in a few minutes he appeared in the entrance; and, having closed the gate behind him, joined his mistress. The ruse had succeeded admirably. The portero suspected nothing. Andres had bidden him "buenas noches," at the same time expressing his intention of going to bed. Don Ambrosio might now return when he pleased.
The strangers had been making their way along a lower level of the terraced plain, hidden by the grain, not twenty yards away, and parallel with the road they were now ascending to join. Their figures were alike formless in long striped serapes, and their features undistinguishable under stiff black sombreros. "Buenas noches, senor," said the second voice, in formal and cautious deliberation.
They were soft spoken persons with a repressed manner, which characterises both men and women of their ancient race, and they spoke to him in Basque. Some freed their hands from the folds of the long blanket, which each wore according to his fancy, to shake hands with him; others nodded curtly. Men from the valley of Ebro muttered "Buenas" the curt salutation of Aragon the taciturn.
I asked the kind old captain's permission, and dropped right down there and perused the several epistles which good fortune had at last brought to me. Oh, I was glad indeed that I had cabled mother from Buenas Ayres. And now I wished more than ever that I had gone home from there instead of shipping in the Sea Spell. Mother had cabled me two hundred dollars.
"Buenas dias, Senor Douglas," said the old gentleman heartily; "sit down and tell me all about yourself and your doings since the memorable night when you left the Blanco Encalada. I feared that you, with all the rest of the crew of the Janequeo, had perished in Callao harbour, or fallen into the hands of the Peruvians which is even worse, so they tell me.
Buenas noches, senor." I was much interested in the strange story I had heard, and lay for some time awake, trying to fit a working theory to the black chest and the Spanish dollars, but with no success. It was a puzzle that was worth a good deal of trouble to unlock if it could be done, and I was eager for daylight, to get a good view of the box.
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