“I want to sell you some smokeless powder,” I told him. “It is the latest thing and is a great aid to annihilation.”
“Don’t want it,” was his brusque response.
“It is almost noiseless, as well,” I urged. “With its use an enemy would find it difficult to locate your troops.”
“That is worse yet,” he said, with as much of a smile as his ugly face was acquainted with. “We want powder that will make much smoke and lots of noise.”
I told him I had that kind too, and other things which he ought to have.
“Well,” he said, with a suggestion of impatience, “go to the Minister of War and get your order, and then get out. Where are you going from here?”
“To Santo Domingo.”