days he was having trouble with his landlord over the non-payment of rent. But he had learned a thing or two in those few days, and he set about to take advantage of his knowledge. He went for a stroll about the streets and, coming upon a farm laborer, thus addressed him:
"Would you care to earn dos reales (25 centavos) very easily, my man?"
Of course the man cared, and in a few minutes he was on his way to the Spaniard's room carrying a "message." The wily fellow took another route, arrived first, met the messenger at the door, took him by the neck, and, dragging him inside, gagged and bound him and left him on the floor while he went out to hunt up a labor agent. That night the adventurer sold his prisoner for $20, paid his rent, and immediately began laying plans for repeating the operation on a larger scale.
The incident marked the entrance of this man into the business of "labor contracting." In a few months he had made his bargain with the political powers of Mexico City, of Veracruz, of Oaxaca, of Tuztepec and other places. Today he is El Senor Daniel T———. I saw his home, a palatial mansion with the sign of three cocks above the door. He uses a private seal and is said to be worth $100,000, all acquired as a "labor agent."
The prevailing price in 1908 for men was $45 each, women and children half price. In 1907, before the panic, it was $60 per man. All slaves entering the valley must wait over at Tuztepec, where Rodolpho Pardo, the jefe politico of the district, counts them and exacts a toll of ten per cent of the purchase price, which he puts into his own pocket.
The open partnership of the government in the slave traffic must necessarily have some excuse. The excuse
