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I was quite ready when, over the coffee, Kennedy contrived to make some excuse for us, promising to call again and perhaps to visit the Erickson plantation. In the secrecy of our room in the little hotel, Craig was soon deeply buried in making use of his traveling laboratory. As he worked I could no longer restrain my impatience. "What about that little bottle of keratin?" I asked, eagerly.
Instead, he placed the sample in his traveling laboratory, closed and locked it, and, with our luggage, the box was ready to be taken ashore. Nearly every one had gone ashore by the time we returned to the deck. Whitson was there yet, talking to the captain, for the shipping at the port interested him. I wondered whether he, too, might be suspicious of those cases consigned to Erickson and others.
The more I thought of it the more firmly convinced I was that Dwight had discovered some secret which it was extremely inconvenient for somebody to have known. What was it? Was it connected with the rumors we had heard of gun-running to Mexico? Erickson had invited us to come late in the afternoon to the dinner and we did not delay in getting there.
Her companion, Barrett Burleigh, was a polished, deferential Englishman, one of those who seem to be citizens of the world rather than subjects of any particular country. I wondered what were the real relations of the two. Jorgen Erickson was, as I had surmised, a Dane. He proved to be one of the largest planters in the island, already wealthy and destined to be wealthier if real estate advanced.
But for one that is, I know twenty whose only thought is to sell out and take a profit." The conversation trailed off on other subjects and I knew that Kennedy had acquired the information which he sought. As neatly as I could I drew him apart from Erickson. "Strange he should tell me that," ruminated Kennedy as we gained a quiet corner of the deck.
Yes, yes the Greeley correspondence with Erickson has created the saddest and bitterest controversy on both sides of the ocean and still they keep it up! It makes us famous, but at what a sorrowful sacrifice! I was so sorry when I heard that it had caused that bloody and distressful war over there in Italy.
They were discussing the commercial and agricultural future of the islands under the American flag, especially the sugar industry, which had fallen into a low estate. "I suppose," remarked Kennedy, casually, "that you are already modernizing your plant and that others are doing the same, getting ready for a revival." Erickson received the remark stolidly. "No," he replied, slowly.
"Some of us may be doing so, but as for me, I shall be quite content to sell if I can get my price." "The planters are not putting in modern machinery, then?" queried Kennedy, innocently, while there flashed over me what he had discovered about shipments of agricultural implements. Erickson shook his head. "Some of them may be.
When Erickson, the blonde Swede, attempted surreptitiously to appropriate a doughnut, the youth turned on him savagely. "Get out of that, you big tow-head!" he cried with an oath. A dozen Canada jays, fluffy, impatient, perched near by or made little short circles over and back. They awaited the remains of the dinner.
Then he said, "What is your name?" I told him, "S. O. Susag," and he then replied, "I used to know a man by that name who was in the grocery business on Franklin and Minnehaha in Minneapolis." He turned to me in the darkness and said, "I am Erickson of the firm of Rudda and Erickson that used to be on Cedar Avenue in Minneapolis."
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