 behind Mrs. Gould's white mules, he had said in
Charles's room -
    »You go ahead in your own way, and I shall know how to help you as long as
you hold your own. But you may rest assured that in a given case we shall know
how to drop you in time.«
    To this Charles Gould's only answer had been: »You may begin sending out the
machinery as soon as you like.«
    And the great man had liked this imperturbable assurance. The secret of it
was that to Charles Gould's mind these uncompromising terms were agreeable. Like
this the mine preserved its identity, with which he had endowed it as a boy; and
it remained dependent on himself alone. It was a serious affair, and he, too,
took it grimly.
    »Of course,« he said to his wife, alluding to this last conversation with
the departed guest, while they walked slowly up and down the corridor, followed
by the irritated eye of the parrot - »of course, a man of that sort can take up
a thing or drop it when he likes. He will suffer from no sense of defeat. He may
have to give in, or he may have to die to-morrow, but the great silver and iron
interests shall survive, and some day shall get hold of Costaguana along with
the rest of the world.«
    They had stopped near the cage. The parrot, catching the sound of a word
belonging to his vocabulary, was moved to interfere. Parrots are very human.
    »Viva Costaguana!« he shrieked, with intense self-assertion, and, instantly
ruffling up his feathers, assumed an air of puffed-up somnolence behind the
glittering wires.
    »And do you believe that, Charley?« Mrs. Gould asked. »This seems to me most
awful materialism, and -«
    »My dear, it's nothing to me,« interrupted her hus band, in a reasonable
tone. »I make use of what I see. What's it to me whether his talk is the voice
of destiny or simply a bit of clap-trap eloquence? There's a good deal of
eloquence of one sort or another produced in both Americas. The air of the New
World seems favourable to the art of declamation. Have you forgotten how dear
Avellanos can hold forth for hours here -?«
    »Oh, but that's different,« protested Mrs. Gould, almost shocked. The
allusion was not to the point. Don José was a dear good
