“I am think to be missionary; I am become martyr. One consolación I obtain. The rain eet has obscured the view. From the shore they can not see. I am to smile no longer. That ees joy. A little joy, not too mooch, for now ees but a trifle of that can-ooo left elevated over the water, and I am fatigue with splashing. I am deciding shall I omit to splash, and thus allow thees beeest of shark to bite me queeck, or shall I to drown, when—ta! A hand on the stern of my t’roat, and a voice t’rough the nose, a voice so beautiful, a voice American, saying (eef you pairmeet eemeetacion), ‘Hallo, bosss! Do yer cum out here for thees exercise evvereee Saturday?’ and I am lift into a boat.
“So they tek me to Córdova. My clothes he ees shorten by the water; also hees color ees not all in the same place as when I mek purchase of heem. He ees the flannel clothes with the rrred, white, and blue straps. Now he ees the rainbow, and from the hat has come color to my nose, to my cheeek.
“I land calm, coomposséd—eet ees like I have made the same each day. Córdova he ees perplex; the ladies they know not what to say.
“‘Have you petroleum?’ I ask Córdova.
“He mek reply, ‘Yes, I have.’
“‘Of your kindness, obtain me some,’ I say and retire unto the house.
“When I retoorn, the old clothes repose upon my arm; I smoke the cigarillo. With the cold blood I walk to that can-ooo. I poot the old clothes upon heem. With the petrol I es-sprinkle all. I strike the match, first to light the cigarillo—then so carelessly, I light the little can-ooo.
“‘Pardon,’ I say. ‘Coostom American.’
“The ladies all cry, ‘Ah!’ and Córdova he knock hees feest with hees head and mek outcry: ‘Ah! What devils are thees Americanos! What care they for expense!’
“So I am veen-dickateed. And that end my little can-ooo.”