Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

356 confounded pacifist, went up in the air and decided that the harbor here needed a fort big enough to defend two Panama Canals—-and jammed it through the sen- ate, too! In fact, the whole business, now that I think of it, seemed to begin at once!”’ A long half-minute they gazed at each other through the gloom. ‘“Stephen,” said Hemmett, “ have we been suffering from the native tendency to hookworm of late years? Has some- body been putting over something that got by us altogether?” ‘““T’ve been wondering that, without mentioning it, ever since I realized that Altara had been elected without a reason in the world for electing him!” ‘“And so have I, Steve, more particu- larly since the infernal radical party got a majority in the senate as well as a president! And what’s more— Oh, bosh! There’s nothing to it, I suppose!” Girton laughed shortly. ‘““Tt’s queer, all the same!” he per- sisted. ‘So are all the factories, crop- ping up so suddenly! So is the National Engine Works, with what must be seventy or eighty million dollars’ worth of capital at least! What is the concern, anyway?” “Ostensibly, a mighty corporation, partly native, organized for the purpose of turning out the most perfect form of turbine engine. They must mean busi- ness, Steve! They’ve bought up hundreds of acres out there on the point opposite the fort, and paid tremendous prices for the land. They’re employing thousands of men and—’”’ ‘Yes, and why are they walled off? Why have they a fifteen-foot fence about the whole place, with guards at every gate? Why is every man in the shops sworn to secrecy?” ‘Because,’ Hemmett said _ mildly, ‘“they’re manufacturing an engine on a device that is still a dead secret because patents have not yet been issued in several countries. That isn’t necessarily criminal even if it is a bit odd. But—”’ THE ARGOSY. He broke off suddenly, for his native butler was at his elbow. ‘“A messenger, senor, for the Senor Girton. He wishes to see Senor Girton himself.” ‘“ Send him here,” that gentleman said briefly. The man departed, to return with another native of Guanama some thirty seconds later. The visitor was a stranger, small and slim, and immaculate in his linens; he proceeded straight to Girton and, smiling and bowing, extended an envelope. ‘From the Senor Altara, our president, senor,’ he purred. ‘If there should be an answer, I will convey it.” He backed away, while Girton, whis- tling softly, switched on one of the electric lights set in the little tropical- fern jar at his elbow. Whistling still, he ripped the envelope and drew out the official sheet, and be it said that he even continued to whistle as he read—and then stopped whistling. “What!” exclaimed Stephen Girton. ‘“ What is it?” Hemmett asked quickly. Another ten seconds Girton gave to a rereading of the document before he looked up angrily. ‘Well, it is a more or less courteous little note firing the secretary of war!” he stated. ‘I’m bounced!” CHAPTER II. MONEY! MONEY! CLAN CING through history, one finds many secretaries of war who have been dismissed without undue excite- ment; for all that we learn to the con- trary, most of them took it calmly enough—but as it chanced Steve Girton had formed for Guanama the only real army that country had ever owned. By hard, persistent work he had welded straggling individuals, straggling units, into as compact a little fighting force as the heart could wish! When he appeared on the street people DOOK C©