THE AGREEABLE STRANGER
Two days later, dust-covered, parched by the heat until he felt as he
believed a slice of dried apple must feel, Jack lolled in a corner
of his seat in the sleeping car and watched the sun-bathed fields of
southeastern Texas dawdle past the window. Houston was four hours
behind and the end of his journey was as many hours ahead. It was too
hot to read, too hot to move around and too hot to sit still, and his
frame of mind was far from serene. Until last night the trip had been
rather pleasant. His fellow passengers had proved companionable and the
country through which he had passed had been novel and interesting. But
at Houston the occupants of the sleeper had changed. So far as he knew,
he was the only one of the original members left; and the new lot,
fewer in number, seemed unusually commonplace.
There was, however, one exception; in fact, two. The first was a youth
of perhaps nineteen who wore the navy uniform and the foul anchor of
an ensign on the collar of his service coat. He was a good-looking
chap, if a trifle haughty. Jack thought no less of him for looking
haughty, but it certainly lessened the chance of becoming acquainted.
It seemed rather a shame, too, for Jack wanted some one to talk and ask
questions of, and it was a fair wager that the two lone representatives
of the United States Navy were bound for the same destination. But
the second ensign seemed absolutely uninterested in the existence of
the first and, after a swift, appraising look on entering the car at
Houston, had never again so much as glanced Jack’s way. Instead, he
had immediately become immersed in a book――Jack was grimly certain it
wasn’t on the subject of aërial navigation!――and scarcely once lifted
his eyes from its pages. He sat five seats beyond Jack, on the other
side of the car, and only the top of his head was visible, and after
awhile Jack had lost interest in it. Whereupon he had become aware of
Señor Gonzales.
Of course, that was probably not his name, but it was what Jack
mentally dubbed him. He, too, was across the aisle and one seat back,
and Jack could see him from his corner without really turning his
head. He was unmistakably Mexican, belonging to what the boy presumed
to be the better class. He was ridiculously small, small any way you
judged him. In height he couldn’t have been above five feet and four
inches, and that in shoes, that were, as Jack noted, uncommonly high
of heel. Everything was small about him, almost delicate. His hands
and feet were about half the size of Jack’s, his head was small, his
limbs alarmingly slight. But he appeared to be perfectly built for all
of that. His complexion was dark and his skin smooth, and everything
about him, from his waxy brown shoes to his wide Panama hat, was
immaculate. He was dressed for the climate, it seemed, in a white silk
shirt and a suit of some light-weight material of greenish-gray hue.
A rather startling yellow scarf was the only discordant note in his
careful attire. From it a large emerald pin glowed. He wore two rings
on his left hand and a costly-looking watch adorned his wrist. He was a
handsome chap, thought Jack, and had an air about him. He was the first
Mexican that Jack had ever seen, so far as he knew, and he concluded
that if all his countrymen were no bigger than he there ought not to be
much difficulty in persuading them to behave themselves!
Once the Mexican gentleman looked up while Jack was studying him with
frank curiosity and smiled and bowed. After an instant’s hesitation
Jack returned the bow, rather stiffly, but didn’t smile. He presumed
that Mexicans greeted strangers that way as a matter of courtesy, and
it might be all right when you were used to it, but for his part he
felt just a little embarrassed. After that he scrupulously refrained
from looking at Señor Gonzales.
“If,” he said to himself with a chuckle, “he caught me rubbering at him
again he’d probably come over here and kiss me!”
He tried hard to get through another chapter of his book on aërial
navigation, but it was hard sledding, and presently he laid it aside
and got up. For want of another refuge, he walked back into the smoking
compartment. A man who looked as if he might be a ranchman and another
who had “drummer” written all over him were in sole possession. Jack
found a seat in a corner of a leather couch and for awhile listened
to the conversation. It wasn’t very interesting, though, and soon he
turned his attention to the view.
The air was perceptibly cooler now, for the railroad was paralleling
the Gulf, and a faint breeze wafted through the open window beside
him. Ten minutes later he was aroused from his reflections by a suave,
pleasant voice at his shoulder.
“Pardon me, sir, but have you a match?”
Turning, Jack found that the Mexican had entered the compartment and
taken a seat at his side. Jack wasn’t sure whether he had such a thing
as a match. He didn’t smoke, but he sometimes tucked a few in a pocket.
While he was investigating his gaze fell on a box fixed between the
windows and he reached forth and took it from its receptacle, handing
it to his neighbor. The latter accepted it gratefully, with a dazzling
display of small white teeth.
“I am most stupid,” he apologized. “I did not see.” He held a silver
cigarette case out. “Will you smoke?” he asked.
Jack thanked him, but declined. Conversation followed naturally.
“Señor Gonzales” was a most interesting companion and most frank
regarding his personal affairs. He was, it appeared, returning to his
home near Matamoros from a visit in Chicago, a visit partly concerned
with business and partly devoted to pleasure. He had many agreeable
things to say about Chicago and the United States in general, and he
seemed desirous of convincing Jack of his friendly regard for America
and things American. The ranchman and the drummer departed unnoted
and another passenger took his place in the compartment without Jack
being more than dimly aware of his arrival. The Mexican gentleman
was speaking of his own country and speaking so eloquently and
picturesquely and in such excellent English that his audience was quite
absorbed. A half-hour passed pleasantly. Jack almost forgot the heat
and the train dust. His companion lighted fresh cigarettes at regular
intervals. At last he interrupted himself with a gesture of contrition.
“But I fear that the señor is not interested! I bore him! I――what is it
you say in your country?――I hog the conversation, _si_? Tell me now of
yourself, señor. You are of the navy?”
Jack protested that he had not been in the least bored, that he had, on
the contrary, greatly enjoyed the other’s talk, but the Mexican shook
his head, waved a delicate hand gayly and laughed.
“No, no! You are most polite, but I have talked enough. You, perhaps,
come from Chicago?”
Jack denied it and mentioned his place of residence. The other shook
his head. “I do not know it. I have been to Chicago, to New York and
to Philadelphia. I admire all those cities. I admire your wonderful
hotels, señor. The Americans are remarkable. In my country,”――he
shrugged――“we are so far behind. Only in Mexico City have we fine
hotels and theaters and _casas_. Perhaps you will see our country,
señor.”
“I’d like to, but I guess there’s no such luck,” replied Jack. “I’m
ordered to Punta Rio for duty. And,” he added jokingly, “I suppose
Mexico is a bit unhealthy just now for Americans.”
“Unhealthy?” echoed the other innocently. “Only in the low country,
señor, and one does not travel there at any time of year. In Mexico
City the climate is now delicious, much cooler than in your Chicago.
Rain, yes, but not to inconvenience.”
“I meant that owing to――to political differences of opinion,” stammered
Jack, “we Americans might not be welcome.”
“No, señor, you are wrong, I assure you! The _politicos_ make talk,
but it is nothing else. We are badly governed, señor. It has been so
always. There is discontent, uneasiness. We quarrel amongst ourselves,
_si_, but with our good neighbor, no! For your country we have much
respect, great admiration.”
“But your people along the border have a way of stirring things up now
and then,” laughed Jack.
“Ah, that is so. But they are ignorant persons, _rusticos_, misled by
brigands. They are like your robbers of trains, señor, and but seek to
enrich themselves. One does not take them seriously. For the rest”――he
shrugged again and smiled charmingly――“this foolish president of ours
has made a wrong decision and now but seeks to save his face. In a
little time he will come to terms. What else can he do? He cannot fight
America and Great Britain and France, señor! Already, or so they say,
he is seeking a way out that will not be hurtful to his pride. No, no,
there is no ill-feeling in my country for yours. You will be as safe
in Mexico City as in your own home. I hope you will make us a visit,
señor. You will find much to interest you.”
“You live there, sir? In Mexico City?”
“I am there much of the time, señor. My home is in the north. It is not
far distant from Tampico, where your ships are gathered. I own iron
mines there. This Punta Rio of which you speak is near the border?”
“Yes. I’ve never been there. The map shows it almost on the border.”
“I do not know it.” The Mexican lighted a fresh cigarette. “It is what
you call a Naval Station, doubtless.”
“Yes. I don’t believe there are many ships there, though. I think it is
more an aviation camp.”
“Ah! You interest me, señor. I have always admired the brave ones who
fly in the air. Such courage! Such _audacia_! And the wonderful ships
that dart and wheel like great birds! Always they excite me, make my
heart to leap! You, then, are one of those brave aviators, señor?”
“No, that’s not my line,” answered Jack. “I’m a radio operator. Of
course, I might have to go on an aëroplane, but I don’t expect to.
Usually they take fellows who have trained for it. I’ll be just as
happy if I don’t, too, for I guess I’d be pretty well scared.”
“The señor does himself injustice,” murmured the other politely. “I am
certain that he is of a great courage, like all his compatriots. These
aëroplanes that you mention, there are doubtless a great many of them?
Ten, twenty, perhaps even more?”
“I guess there are easily twenty,” answered Jack carelessly.
“Consider it! And they are all at this Punta Rio? Or do they also
station themselves elsewhere?”
“Oh, I guess there are more in other places. I――――”
Jack paused. For a minute or more he had been subconsciously aware of
a disturbing sound, a tapping it seemed, that he had set down as a
part of the noise of the train. But now he looked startledly across
the compartment. In the corner by the window the haughty ensign was
seated. Jack had known of the presence of a third person, but had been
too absorbed in conversation to pay any heed to that person’s identity.
The ensign appeared to be interested only in the monotonous landscape
flowing past the window, and perhaps he was not aware that the tapping
of a pencil on the sill might be annoying to the other occupants of the
compartment. At least, he did not discontinue it, and Jack, listening
to the tapping, flushed.
“_Shut your fool mouth!_”
That is what the pencil said in Navy Code.
For an instant Jack was mad clear through. Then he realized that
perhaps the warning, as discourteous as it was, was called for.
Perhaps, come to think of it, he had been talking rather too freely
considering that his listener was a Mexican! But he didn’t think it
necessary for the other chap to speak so disrespectfully of his mouth!
The pencil went on tapping, but now the taps were meaningless, and
after a moment the ensign returned it to his pocket. Jack turned to
find the Mexican gentleman’s gaze fixed serenely on him.
“You were saying, señor――――”
“Oh――why――what were we speaking of?” stammered Jack.
“Of the gallant airships, señor. But it is of no consequence. I had
merely asked――――”
“Oh, yes! Well, I don’t know much about ’em. You see, this is my first
trip down this way. Fact is, I haven’t been in the service long enough
to get onto things yet.”
“Doubtless there is much to learn,” assented the other. “You men of the
sea lead a life far different from that of us who dwell ashore. I know
but little of the sea. And what little I know I do not like, señor. It
is too――too――uneasy. It makes me most unhappy inside. I prefer to stay
on land, me!” He tossed aside a half-consumed cigarette and arose. “I
have much enjoyed our little talk, señor,” he said. “I hope we shall
meet again. Now I will take a siesta before the train arrives at the
junction. Adios, señor.”
Señor Gonzales went out. Jack wanted to follow, but as it might look
like running away he didn’t. Instead, he pretended elaborate interest
in the view. He heard his brother ensign shuffle his feet, but he
didn’t look across. After a few minutes:
“I thought you were never going to get that,” said his neighbor
pleasantly.
Jack removed his gaze from the landscape and fixed it on the speaker.
“You needn’t have worried, thanks,” he said dryly. “I wasn’t telling
any secrets.”
“Maybe not, son, but you seemed headed that way. It’s just as well not
to talk navy affairs in public.”
“This isn’t war-time,” replied Jack haughtily.
“Isn’t it? Well, it’s mighty near it. And when you get to telling the
location and number of navy seaplanes you’re talking too much. If you
want to get huffy about it, all right. You’re not bothering me any. But
you’d better fight shy of that cute little Mex or he will pump you dry.”
“I’ll look after that, thanks!”
The other laughed as he pulled himself from his seat. “Say, you’re a
touchy guy, aren’t you? Sorry if I stepped on your toes, son. As our
picturesque friend says, ‘adios.’”
“Go to thunder,” muttered Jack. But he didn’t say it until the other’s
footsteps had ceased in the corridor outside. “And quit calling me
‘son,’ too,” he continued. “I’m not much younger than you are, you
stuck-up pup!”
Perhaps his ill-temper was partly due to the realization that if it
hadn’t been for the message of the tapping pencil the agreeable
stranger would have, as the obnoxious ensign put it, pumped him dry!
After this, he promised himself grumpily, he wouldn’t tell any one even
the time of day!