United States or Algeria ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"You vill zee dthree volcano near Guatemala; dthey air dthe 'spirits' of dthe place call in Eenglish 'Air, 'Fire' and 'Vater. Zee on dthis leedle coin dthey haf all dthree mountains on dthe back." "Why, what's the matter with your hands?" I say, taking the coin.
"Yes," says the Baron, having regained his equilibrium. "You cannot zee, but he haf a basket tie vidth a cord to hees belt; he fill it vidth shaills, and vhen he make a pull dthey draw it up and empty it. Zee, now!" He points to the steamer where, hand over hand, they haul in a cable. At the end is the square wicker basket filled with great pearl shell oysters.
"Oh, nodthing much," says the Baron in his usual low and gentle tone; "I only zay if dthey effer come again I vill cut dthem up vidth a big knife and haf dthem boil for breakfast." "You barbarian!" laughs Mrs. Steele, rising. And then she looks about. "We might have a glimpse of the church before we go if there's time."
Dthey say dthe jackrabbeet and dthe sheep have dthe most leetle sesos how you call dthem brain-es? Ah don't believe dthat, Don Samuel escuse me. Ah dthink people w'at don't keep esmokin' tobacco, dthey bot you weel escuse me, Don Samuel." "Now, what's the use of chewin' the rag, boys," said the untroubled Sam, stooping over to rub the toes of his shoes with a red-and-yellow handkerchief.
Dthey say dthe jackrabbeet and dthe sheep have dthe most leetle /sesos/ how you call dthem brain-es? Ah don't believe dthat, Don Samuel escuse me. Ah dthink people w'at don't keep esmokin' tobacco, dthey bot you weel escuse me, Don Samuel." "Now, what's the use of chewin' the rag, boys," said the untroubled Sam, stooping over to rub the toes of his shoes with a red-and-yellow handkerchief.
Here he knows the people and their tongue, all our wants must pass through his interpretation, and he is master of the situation. He seems, moreover, to fall naturally and simply into the new office, and treats me quite as if I were a child. I want to stop and get some plantains as we pass a fruit stall. "No," says the Baron, "you must not eat dthem; dthey air unreif."
Ve air not far from dthe house of two old friends of me. Dthey vill take care off you, till my yacht come; you need not fear me, Señorita." He loosens his grasp for an instant, and the dark street seems to whirl. I would have fallen if he had not caught me. I hear, as one dreaming, the caressing words of Spanish I scarcely feel the hot kisses.
Is this the "Paris of Central America," with its 70,000 inhabitants? Mrs. Steele is met in the dépot by some friends, Californians, who live here part of the year. We promise to dine with them, and the Baron comes back from his search for a carriage, saying one will be here presently. "Vhile Madame Steele talks vidth her friends, vill you come zee dthe Trocadero, vhere dthey haf bull-fights?"
"I tell you I'll come back, let me go!" and I glance out shudderingly. We have passed over the obstruction, whatever it was, and are running along the side of a steep descent. "I am sorry you dthink my hands zo weak, for if dthey fail ve bodth go down." "Oh, please, please!" I gasp. "Now ve come to a baranca. I am curious to zee vill you like a 'baranca."
"Dthey make tortillas," says the Baron. "Oh, yes, I've heard about these meal cakes," says my friend, stopping to look at the queer group. One old woman jumps up and offers her something smoking in a pan. Mrs. Steele, bent upon discovery, bravely tears off a bit and tastes it, throwing the woman a coin. "Give me some," I say.
Word Of The Day