“Government built, this, I dare say,” Webster suggested as they trotted along side by side.
Billy nodded. “It is the only evidence I have observed of an inclination on the part of President Sarros to give the lowly peon a run for his taxes. This highway stretches from San Miguel de Padua to the western national boundary; I imagine Sarros built it with some idea of enabling him to get there first with the most guns in the event of war with his neighbours on the Pacific side. Quite a rare plucked 'un, is Sarros—to quote Mother Jenks.”
“Are you acquainted with him, Bill? What kind of a bird is he?”
“Oh, yes, indeed, I know him. We're great amigos. I'm the man that taught him the folly of betting too heavily on two pair after the draw. He has Indian blood in him—quite a little of it, in fact; but he is well educated. Speaks French, Spanish, and English very fluently. He's a short man and wears high-heeled boots to make himself look taller than he really is. He is crafty, suspicious, sensitive, and possessed of a sense of humour—only his humour is tinged with cruelty. He'd steal a cross off a grave and kill his best friend as quickly, should political expediency demand it, as you or I would kill a rattlesnake. He has a rattling good intelligence-department, pays liberally for information, and keeps down rebellion by the simple process of locating the ringleaders and shooting them. He bumped off old General Morelos some six weeks ago—did it on mere suspicion, too.”
“You must have come to Sobrante mighty well recommended to get into the good graces of the scoundrel.”
“Not at all! Sarros is a peculiar man. It pleases him to pose as a democrat and mingle freely with the proletariat—accompanied, however, by a strong bodyguard. Frequently he visits the cafés in Buenaventura and fraternizes with all and sundry. I met him first in a joint known as The Frenchman's, where he used to come to watch the drawing for the lottery. I was there matching another American for half-dollars, and Sarros edged up, all interest, and homed in on the game. Before the session was over we'd swapped cards, and the instant he learned I was a mining man and down here to give Sobrante the onceover, he invited me up to the palace for dinner. Our acquaintance quickly ripened into friendship—on his part. It seems he likes to have enterprising Americans come to Sobrante and exploit the country, because experience has demonstrated that if the visitors develop a good thing, there is always a rake-off in it for Sarros.”
Webster nodded. “Same old game anywhere you go south of the Rio Grande,” he replied.
“I had a couple of thousand dollars I'd saved on a job I had down in Rhodesia, so I was enabled to put up a big front. I received government permission to prospect government lands, and—”
“Do you pay a royalty to the government, Bill?”
“Five per cent.”