The colonel thought it was.
"By the way," interrupted the drummer, “I' m to go with you to San Geronimo. The old man said so. I'll get the hang of things down there. I suppose it pays—this revolting —or the old man would n't stay in the business."
As the colonel simply stood, Strawbridge continued his desultory remarks:
“The old man's got a grand scheme—has n't he?—canalizing the Orinoco Valley. Say, this goes: when you fellows put that across, this beautiful little city of Canalejos will just have a shade on any damn burg in this wide world. Now you can take that flat; it goes.” He made a gesture with his palm down.
Coronel Saturnino did not appear particularly gratified by this encomium heaped upon his home town. He picked up a paper-weight and looked at it with a faint smile.
"Did the general tell you about that?"
"Oh, yes," declared Strawbridge, heartily, "we buddied up from the jump. Why, I never meet a stranger. I'm just Tom Strawbridge wherever you find me."
The colonel passed over Mr. Strawbridge's declaration of his identity.
"Did the general's plan for canalization strike you as economically sound?" he asked, with a certain quizzical expression.
"Why, sure! That's the most progressive scheme I've heard of since I struck South America. I'm for it. I tell you it's a big idea."
The colonel laid down the paper-weight, and asked with a flavor of satire:
"Why should a colony of men canalize a semi-arid country when they can go to other parts of South America and obtain just as fertile, well-watered land without effort?"
