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"
'
Comical
mans
!
'
he
shouts
,
at
last
.
'
So
you
will
kill
me
from
the
laughing
.
Yes
;
it
is
hard
to
find
the
brave
,
strong
mans
to
aid
my
country
.
Revolutions
?
Did
I
speak
of
r-r-revolutions
?
Not
one
word
.
I
say
,
big
,
strong
mans
is
need
in
Guatemala
.
So
.
The
mistake
is
of
you
.
You
have
looked
in
those
one
box
containing
those
gun
for
the
guard
.
You
think
all
boxes
is
contain
gun
?
No
.
"
'
There
is
not
war
in
Guatemala
.
But
work
?
Yes
.
Good
.
T'irty
dollar
in
the
month
.
You
shall
shoulder
one
pickaxe
,
señor
,
and
dig
for
the
liberty
and
prosperity
of
Guatemala
.
Off
to
your
work
.
The
guard
waits
for
you
.
'
"
'
Little
,
fat
,
poodle
dog
of
a
brown
man
,
'
says
I
,
quiet
,
but
full
of
indignations
and
discomforts
,
'
things
shall
happen
to
you
.
Maybe
not
right
away
,
but
as
soon
as
J.
Clancy
can
formulate
somethin'
in
the
way
of
repartee
.
'
"
The
boss
of
the
gang
orders
us
to
work
.
I
tramps
off
with
the
Dagoes
,
and
I
hears
the
distinguished
patriot
and
kidnapper
laughin
'
hearty
as
we
go
.
"
'
Tis
a
sorrowful
fact
,
for
eight
weeks
I
built
railroads
for
that
misbehavin
'
country
.
I
filibustered
twelve
hours
a
day
with
a
heavy
pick
and
a
spade
,
choppin
'
away
the
luxurious
landscape
that
grew
upon
the
right
of
way
.
We
worked
in
swamps
that
smelled
like
there
was
a
leak
in
the
gas
mains
,
trampin
'
down
a
fine
assortment
of
the
most
expensive
hothouse
plants
and
vegetables
.
The
scene
was
tropical
beyond
the
wildest
imagination
of
the
geography
man
.
The
trees
was
all
sky-scrapers
;
the
underbrush
was
full
of
needles
and
pins
;
there
was
monkeys
jumpin
'
around
and
crocodiles
and
pink-tailed
mockin
'
-
birds
,
and
ye
stood
knee-deep
in
the
rotten
water
and
grabbled
roots
for
the
liberation
of
Guatemala
.
Of
nights
we
would
build
smudges
in
camp
to
discourage
the
mosquitoes
,
and
sit
in
the
smoke
,
with
the
guards
pacin
'
all
around
us
.
There
was
two
hundred
men
workin
'
on
the
road
--
mostly
Dagoes
,
nigger-men
,
Spanish-men
and
Swedes
.
Three
or
four
were
Irish
.
"
One
old
man
named
Halloran
--
a
man
of
Hibernian
entitlements
and
discretions
,
explained
it
to
me
.
He
had
been
workin
'
on
the
road
a
year
.
Most
of
them
died
in
less
than
six
months
.
He
was
dried
up
to
gristle
and
bone
,
and
shook
with
chills
every
third
night
.
"
'
When
you
first
come
,
'
says
he
,
'
ye
think
ye
'll
leave
right
away
.
But
they
hold
out
your
first
month
's
pay
for
your
passage
over
,
and
by
that
time
the
tropics
has
its
grip
on
ye
.
Ye
're
surrounded
by
a
ragin
'
forest
full
of
disreputable
beasts
--
lions
and
baboons
and
anacondas
--
waitin
'
to
devour
ye
.
The
sun
strikes
ye
hard
,
and
melts
the
marrow
in
your
bones
.
Ye
get
similar
to
the
lettuce-eaters
the
poetry-book
speaks
about
.
Ye
forget
the
elevated
sintiments
of
life
,
such
as
patriotism
,
revenge
,
disturbances
of
the
peace
and
the
dacint
love
of
a
clane
shirt
.
Ye
do
your
work
,
and
ye
swallow
the
kerosene
ile
and
rubber
pipestems
dished
up
to
ye
by
the
Dago
cook
for
food
.
Ye
light
your
pipeful
,
and
say
to
yoursilf
,
"
Nixt
week
I
'll
break
away
,
"
and
ye
go
to
sleep
and
call
yersilf
a
liar
,
for
ye
know
ye
'll
never
do
it
.
'
"
'
Who
is
this
general
man
,
'
asks
I
,
'
that
calls
himself
De
Vega
?
'
