er it was still in storage at San Juan
or was flashing red and white--a credit to Onativia's energy and a
godsend to incoming shipping--was still a mystery.

Mawkum would often laugh whenever Garlicho's or Onativia's name was
mentioned, and once in a while we would discuss the difficulties they
must have encountered in the erection of the structure in the open sea.
One part of the transaction we could never understand, and that was why
Garlicho had allowed the matter to lapse if the lighthouse was needed
so badly, and what were his reasons for sending Onativia to renew the
negotiations instead of coming himself.

All doubts on this and every other point were set at rest one fine
morning by the arrival of a sunburned gentleman with gray
side-whiskers, a man I had not seen for years.

"Why, Lawton!" I cried, grasping his hand. "This is a surprise. Came by
the Tampico, did you? Oh, but I am glad to see you! Here, draw up a
chair. But stop--not a word until I ask you some questions about that
lighthouse."

The genial Scotchman broke out into a loud laugh.

"Don't laugh! Listen!" I said to him. "Tell me, why didn't Garlicho go
on with the work, and what do you know about Onativia?"

Lawton leaned back in his chair and closed one eye in merriment.

"Garlicho did not go on with the work, my dear friend, because he was
breaking stone in the streets of San Juan with a ball and chain around
his ankle. When Paramba came back to power he was tried for high
treason and condemned to be shot. He saved his neck by turning over the
lighthouse papers to Onativia. As to Carlos Onativia, he is a product
of the soil. Started life as a coolie boss in a copper mine, became
manager and owner, built the bridge over the Quitos River and the
railroad up the Andes; is the brightest man in Moccador and the brains
of the Paramba Government. One part of his duty is to keep the people
satisfied, and he does it every single time; another is to divide with
Paramba every dollar he makes."

"But the lighthouse!" I interrupted. "Is it up? You must have passed it
on your way out of the harbor."

"Up? Yes, and lighted every night--up in the public garden in San Juan
among the palms and bananas. The people eat ice-cream on the first
platform and the band plays Sundays in the balcony under the boat
davits. The people are wild about it--especially the women. It was the
last coat of red lead that did it."

And again the office rang with Lawton's laug