"It would require a great deal of money. I am considered a rich man, but I have discounted the future, and my enterprises—" He flung out his arms. "I have spread out. I must be careful. It is not alone MY money that I have invested."
"It will require very little money," said Cortlandt. "I have been from
David to Darien, from Bocas to Colon and I know the public sentiment."
"Speaking of David," his wife added; "it was you who first projected the railroad to that point, Senor Garavel."
"Yes, I saw that it was needed. It would make Panama," he said, simply.
"Under your administration it can be built. Mr. Cortlandt can assure you of our government's earnest co-operation. That would not be the case if General Alfarez were elected. Perhaps the Colombian boundary can be settled. There also our influence might avail. Those two steps forward would make the name of Garavel as famous in Panama as it is in Guatemala."
"Those are important issues for any loyal Panamanian," he admitted.
"And you love your daughter—you say your life is, hers. Your honor would be hers also. Senorita Garavel would have no cause to regret her father's presidency."
"Oh, it is useless to argue," smiled the Spaniard. "I am weak. I am human. I am also patriotic, and I realize that our little country must look to your great one for its stimulus. Our life must be moulded after yours. For years I have dreamed of a railroad to David, which would some day form a link in the great system that will join the three Americas. I have pictured our inland jungles replaced with homes; a great traffic flowing from end to end of the Republic. But I have also seen that our people would not profit by it. The languor of the tropics is in their blood, and you Yankees would be needed to inspire them." His voice shook with emotion as he went on: "They are good, simple people, no more than children, and I love them. A gracious Providence gave us the key to the world's commerce, but we could not use it. It needs all our wisdom now to adapt ourselves to the conditions that have arisen. 'Andres Garavel, President of the Republic of Panama!' It has a sweet sound, my friends, and yet—I have fears."
"Let's take them one by one," laughed his host, "and prove them imaginary. I see a great good-fortune in store for you."
It was midnight before Senor Andres Garavel, the banker, bade his friends good-bye. When he descended the hotel steps to his carriage, he held his white head proudly erect, and there was new dignity in his bearing. As he was whirled homeward behind his spirited Peruvian mare, a wonderful song was singing in his heart.