"It is so, but not with all," Father Agustin replied in his fine Castilian. "The losing game needs courage."
"Experience helps. Getting beaten does not hurt so much when one grows used to it."
"Ah!" said the priest, "that is the way to the greatest victory man can win. But I am your guest, and will not moralize. I must compliment you on the game you play. It is bold and well thought out, but perhaps somewhat lacking in finesse."
"I am afraid finesse is not a virtue of mine," Grahame smiled.
Father Agustin studied him quietly. When the Briton spoke he lost something of his reserve. His glance got keen, and his eyes had a curious hawk-like look. The priest could imagine him as swift and determined in action; quick to seize an advantage, but not a good plotter.
"For all that, it is a quality that is useful when one deals with the Latins, at Rio Frio, or elsewhere," the priest said.
"With apologies, padre, that is certainly true," Walthew agreed.
"So you have some business here? Perhaps, like the others, you seek a mineral concession."
"No. Our host, Don Martin, is of course out of office and doesn't deal in them."
"He never will," the priest said quietly. "The natural wealth of this country belongs to its people, but it is stolen from them, piece by piece, and given to foreigners."