"We do."
The Mayor gazed at him fierce for a minute, then he smiled and
patted his knee.
"It is, perhaps, Senor Dorcas, not impossible."
"There now, Kid! Fixed you."
Sadler said nothing, but looked down at the chain gang below. The
Plaza was full of people, women talking under the stiff palms, and
men sitting on wicker chairs on the hotel piazza opposite. The
butcher on the corner was chasing away a dog.
"It won't do," says Sadler mournfully, at last. "It's more
interestin' than I'd suppose you was up to, but comparatively it's
dull. Besides, it ain't safe. I'd have to come back and see how bad I
was banished. That's certain. Not that I'd throw you down this way,
Excellency," he says with sad eyes on the Mayor and a deep voice, "I
wouldn't do it," he says, "without puttin' up another scheme, for it
wouldn't be treating you upright. But makin' a supposition, now,
suppose I was arrested some, and set to bossin' that gang out there
for the benefit of Portate, and quartered, for safe keepin' till the
trial, at the Hotel Republic, as a partial return for being exhibited
in disgrace. And suppose it took me three days to finish that little
job they're potterin' with, by that time I'd be ready to, let's say,
to escape, say, on the steamer that sails for Lima on Thursday.
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