After having seen the pyramidal structures of the peasants or peons, with roofs slanting to within a few feet of the ground, and thatched with palm leaves, the collection looking like a colony of beehives, Ronie was somewhat surprised to find now a dwelling that closely resembled the houses of his native land. It was, in fact, a fine residence, standing back several rods from the road, and reached by a broad avenue running under rows of stately trees resembling the American elms. He was to learn that these were known here as the Alcornoque, lifting as graceful heads, and as tall, tapering trunks as their northern cousins. Everything about this home of the coffee planter denoted wealth and comfort, in marked contrast to the humble huts scarcely beyond the vision, and of a style of architecture peculiar to the country.
"Whoever lives here must be a man of importance," remarked Ronie.
"True, lad, and being such a rich man, we are running little risk in assuming him to be a follower of Castro at this time. The cultivation of coffee is, in fact, a more certain way of earning a competence, and it may be, something above a living, than any other calling in Venezuela. For this reason nearly all others have been neglected. Sugar cane can be raised profitably, but that requires more capital to start with, and more manual labor to carry it on. To cultivate sugar successfully one must fertilize it, so to speak, with gold. But any man, if he is poor, can have a coffee estate if he has courage to work and wait for a short season. The day his bushes yield their first red berries he finds something coming into his pockets. The berries are worth as high as thirty dollars a hundred pounds, and cost less than one-third to raise. So you see a poor man, who may have hired the use of a piece of land, which he pays for on long instalments, may plant a coffee farm with the aid of his family, living on products that mature earlier on the same land, until at the end of three years he gathers his first crop of berries, followed by a full crop the next year. We shall doubtless meet with more of these small coffee plantations after this. If I mistake not, here comes the planter himself. Let us risk it in claiming to be friendly to the government."
Their approach had evidently attracted the owner of the estate, for Ronie had already seen a small, wiry-framed man, of a very dark complexion and dashing dress, coming, toward them. He now stopped to allow them to come forward, saying in a tone of apparent friendliness:
"Good-morning, señors," somewhat to their surprise speaking in their language.
"Good-morning," replied both in unison.
"You must have taken an early start, señors."
"It is because our journey is a long one, señor," replied Jack, who acted as spokesman. "Our horses are tired, and we would bespeak for them food and rest at your hospitality."
"Dismount, gentlemen. My men will look after them, while I entertain you."
While Jack and Ronie did as they were told, a couple of peons appeared on the scene, to lead the tired animals away, as the hospitable planter requested his visitors to follow him to his favorite morning retreat under one of the beautiful shade trees standing in his yard within sight of his house. If he had shown a friendly spirit in his tone so far, his next words, as the three sank upon the rustic benches encircling the tree, showed that he was not free from concern in regard to the character of his early callers: