It was at Quito, the mountain capital of Ecuador, that the following
passage at correspondence took place. Having occasion to buy a pair of
shoes in a shop six feet by eight in size and with walls three feet
thick, I noticed a mangy leopard skin on the floor. I had no Spanish.
The shop-keeper had no English. But I was an adept at sign language. I
wanted to know where I should go to buy leopard skins. On my scribble-
pad I drew the interesting streets of a city. Then I drew a small shop,
which, after much effort, I persuaded the proprietor into recognising as
his shop. Next, I indicated in my drawing that on the many streets there
were many shops. And, finally, I made myself into a living interrogation
mark, pointing all the while from the mangy leopard skin to the many
shops I had sketched.
But the proprietor failed to follow me. So did his assistant. The
street came in to help--that is, as many as could crowd into the six-by-
eight shop; while those that could not force their way in held an
overflow meeting on the sidewalk. The proprietor and the rest took turns
at talking to me in rapid-fire Spanish, and, from the expressions on
their faces, all concluded that I was remarkably stupid. Again I went
through my programme, pointing on the sketch from the one shop to the
many shops, pointing out that in this particular shop was one leopard
skin, and then questing interrogatively with my pencil among all the
shops. All regarded me in blank silence, until I saw comprehension
suddenly dawn on the face of a small boy.
"Tigres montanya!" he cried.
This appealed to me as mountain tigers, namely, leopards; and in token
that he understood, the boy made signs for me to follow him, which I
obeyed. He led me for a quarter of a mile, and paused before the doorway
of a large building where soldiers slouched on sentry duty and in and out
of which went other soldiers. Motioning for me to remain, he ran inside.
Fifteen minutes later he was out again, without leopard skins, but full
of information. By means of my card, of my hotel card, of my watch, and
of the boy's fingers, I learned the following: that at six o'clock that
evening he would arrive at my hotel with ten leopard skins for my
inspection. Further, I learned that the skins were the property of one
Captain Ernesto Becucci. Also, I learned that the boy's name was Eliceo.
The boy was prompt. At six o'clock he was at my room. In his hand was a
small roll addressed to me. On opening it I found it to be manuscript
piano music, the _Hora Tranquila Valse_, or "Tranquil Hour Waltz," by
Ernesto Becucci. I came for leopard skins, thought I, and the owner
sends me sheet music instead. But the boy assured me that he would have
the skins at the hotel at nine next morning, and I entrusted to him the
following letter of acknowledgment:
"DEAR CAPTAIN BECUCCI:
"A thousand thanks for your kind presentation of _Hora Tranquila
Valse_. Mrs. London will play it for me this evening.
"Sincerely yours,
"Jack London."
Next morning Eliceo was back, but without the skins. Instead, he gave me
a letter, written in Spanish, of which the following is a free
translation:
"To my dearest and always appreciated friend, I submit myself--
"DEAR SIR:
"I sent you last night an offering by the bearer of this note, and you
returned me a letter which I translated.
"Be it known to you, sir, that I am giving this waltz away in the best
society, and therefore to your honoured self. Therefore it is
beholden to you to recognise the attention, I mean by a tangible
return, as this composition was made by myself. You will therefore
send by your humble servant, the bearer, any offering, however minute,
that you may be prompted to make. Send it under cover of an envelope.
The bearer may be trusted.
"I did not indulge in the pleasure of visiting your honourable self
this morning, as I find my body not to be enjoying the normal exercise
of its functions.
"As regards the skins from the mountain, you shall be waited on by a
small boy at seven o'clock at night with ten skins from which you may
select those which most satisfy your aspirations.
"In the hope that you will look upon this in the same light as myself,
I beg to be allowed to remain,
"Your most faithful servant,
"CAPTAIN ERNESTO BECUCCI."
Well, thought I, this Captain Ernesto Becucci has shown himself to be
such an undependable person, that, while I don't mind rewarding him for
his composition, I fear me if I do I never shall lay eyes on those
leopard skins. So to Eliceo I gave this letter for the Captain:
"MY DEAR CAPTAIN BECUCCI:
"Have the boy bring the skins at seven o'clock this evening, when I
shall be glad to look at them. This evening when the boy brings the
skins, I shall be pleased to give him, in an envelope, for you, a
tangible return for your musical composition.
"Please put the price on each skin, and also let me know for what sum
all the skins will sell together.
"Sincerely yours,
"JACK LONDON."
Now, thought I, I have him. No skins, no tangible return; and evidently
he is set on receiving that tangible return.
At seven o'clock Eliceo was back, but without leopard skins. He handed
me this letter:
"SENOR LONDON:
"I wish to instil in you the belief that I lost to-day, at half past
three in the afternoon, the key to my cubicle. While distributing
rations to the soldiers I dropped it. I see in this loss the act of
God.
"I received a letter from your honourable self, delivered by the one
who bears you this poor response of mine. To-morrow I will burst open
the door to permit me to keep my word with you. I feel myself
eternally shamed not to be able to dominate the evils that afflict
colonial mankind. Please send me the trifle that you offered me. Send
me this proof of your appreciation by the bearer, who is to be
trusted. Also give to him a small sum of money for himself, and earn
the undying gratitude of
"Your most faithful servant,
"CAPTAIN ERNESTO BECUCCI."
Also, inclosed in the foregoing letter was the following original poem, a
propos neither of leopard skins nor tangible returns, so far as I can
make out: