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!