There is little consecutiveness along the Spanish Main.
Things happen there intermittently. Even Time seemshang his scythe daily on the branch of an orange tree whilehe takes a siesta and a cigarette.
After the ineffectual revolt against the administrationof President Losada， the country settled again into quiettoleration of the abuses with which he had been charged.
In Coralio old political enemies went arm-in-arm， lightlyeschewing for the time all differences of opinion.
The failure of the art expedition did not stretch thecat-footed Keogh upon his back. The ups and downs ofFortune made smooth travelling for his nimble steps. Hisblue pencil stub was at work again before the smoke ofthe steamer on which White sailed had cleared away fromthe horizon. He had but to speak a word to Geddie to findhis credit negotiable for whatever goods he wanted fromthe store of Brannigan & Company. On the same day onwhich White arrived in New York Keogh， at the rear of atrain of five pack mules loaded with hardware and cutlery，set his face toward the grim， interior mountains. There theIndian tribes wash gold dust from the auriferous streams；and when a market is brought to them trading is brisk andmuy bueno in the Cordilleras.
In Coralio Time folded his wings and paced wearilyalong his drowsy path. They who had most cheered thetorpid hours were gone. Clancy had sailed on a Spanishbarque for Colon， contemplating a cut across the isthmusand then a further voyage to end at Callao， where thefighting was said to be on. Geddie， whose quiet and genialnature had once served to mitigate the frequent dullreaction of lotus eating， was now a home-man， happy withhis bright orchid， Paula， and never even dreaming of orregretting the unsolved， sealed and monogramed Bottlewhose contents， now inconsiderable， were held safely inthe keeping of the sea.
Well may the Walrus， most discerning and eclectic ofbeasts， place sealing-wax midway on his program of topicsthat fall pertinent and diverting upon the ear.
Atwood was gone—he of the hospitable back porch andingenuous cunning. Doctor Gregg， with his trepanningstory smoldering within him， was a whiskered volcano，always showing signs of imminent eruption， and was not tobe considered in the ranks of those who might contributeto the amelioration of ennui. The new consul’s notechimed with the sad sea waves and the violent tropicalgreens—he had not a bar of Scheherezade or of the RoundTable in his lute. Goodwin was employed with largeprojects： what time he was loosed from them found him athis home， where he loved to be. Therefore it will be seenthat there was a dearth of fellowship and entertainmentamong the foreign contingent of Coralio.
And then Dicky Maloney dropped down from the
clouds upon the town， and amused it.
Nobody knew where Dicky Maloney hailed from orhow he reached Coralio. He appeared there one day； andthat was all. He afterward said that he came on the fruitsteamer Thor， but an inspection of the Thor’s passengerlist of that date was found to be Maloneyless. Curiosity，however， soon perished； and Dicky took his place amongthe odd fish cast up by the Caribbean.
He was an active， devil-may-care， rollicking fellow withan engaging gray eye， the most irresistible grin， a ratherdark or much sunburned complexion， and a head of thefieriest red hair ever seen in that country. Speaking theSpanish language as well as he spoke English， and seemingalways to have plenty of silver in his pockets， it was notlong before he was a welcome companion whithersoeverhe went. He had an extreme fondness for vino blanco， andgained the reputation of being able to drink more of itthan any three men in town. Everybody called him “Dicky”；everybody cheered up at the sight of him—especially thenatives， to whom his marvellous red hair and his free-andeasystyle were a constant delight and envy. Wherever youwent in the town you would soon see Dicky or hear hisgenial laugh， and find around him a group of admirers whoappreciated him both for his good nature and the whitewine he was always so ready to buy.
A considerable amount of speculation was had concerningthe object of his sojourn there， until one day he silencedthis by opening a small shop for the sale of tobacco， dulcesand the handiwork of the interior Indians—fibre-and-silkwovengoods， deerskin zapatos and basketwork of tulereeds. Even then he did not change his habits； for he wasdrinking and playing cards half the day and night with thecomandante， the collector of customs， the jefe politicoand other gay dogs among the native officials.
One day Dicky saw Pasa， the daughter of Madama Ortiz，sitting in the side-door of the Hotel de los Extranjeros.
He stopped in his tracks， still， for the first time in Coralio；and then he sped， swift as a deer， to find Vasquez， a gildednative youth， to present him.
The young men had named Pasa La Santita Naranjadita.
Naranjadita is a Spanish word for a certain color thatyou must go to more trouble to describe in English.
By saying “The little saint， tinted the most beautifuldelicate-slightly-orange-golden，” you will approximate thedescription of Madama Ortiz’s daughter.
La Madama Ortiz sold rum in addition to other liquors.
Now， you must know that the rum expiates whateveropprobrium attends upon the other commodities. Forrum-making， mind you， is a government monopoly； and tokeep a government dispensary assures respectability if notpreeminence. Moreover， the saddest of precisians couldfind no fault with the conduct of the shop. Customersdrank there in the lowest of spirits and fearsomely， as inthe shadow of the dead for Madama’s ancient and vauntedlineage counteracted even the rum’s behest to be merry.
For， was she not of the Iglesias， who landed with Pizarro？
And had not her deceased husband been comisionado decaminos y puentes for the district？
