randy, call us up in a year or
two and we will see what we can do."

Everett regarded the Secretary blankly.

"Has the department no interest in Amapala?" he begged. "Is there
nothing you want there?"

"There is one thing we very much want," returned the Secretary, "but we
can't get it. We want a treaty to extradite criminals."

The young minister laughed confidently.

"Why!" he exclaimed, "that should be easy."

The Secretary smiled.

"You have our full permission to get it," he said. "This department,"
he explained, "under three administrations has instructed four
ministers to arrange such a treaty. The Bankers' Association wants it;
the Merchants' Protective Alliance wants it. Amapala is the only place
within striking distance of our country where a fugitive is safe. It is
the only place where a dishonest cashier, swindler, or felon can find
refuge. Sometimes it seems almost as though when a man planned a crime
he timed it exactly so as to catch the boat for Amapala. And, once
there, we can't lay our hands on him; and, what's more, we can't lay
our hands on the money he takes with him. I have no right to make a
promise," said the great man, "but the day that treaty is signed you
can sail for a legation in Europe. Do I make myself clear?"

"So clear, sir," cried Everett, laughing, "that if I don't arrange that
treaty I will remain in Amapala until I do."

"Four of your predecessors," remarked the Secretary, "made exactly the
same promise, but none of them got us the treaty."

"Probably none of them remained in Amapala, either," retorted Everett.

"Two did," corrected the Secretary; "as you ride into Camaguay you see
their tombstones."

Everett found the nine-day mule-ride from the coast to the capital
arduous, but full of interest. After a week at his post he appreciated
that until he left it and made the return journey nothing of equal
interest was again likely to occur. For life in Camaguay, the capital
of Amapala, proved to be one long, dreamless slumber. In the morning
each of the inhabitants engaged in a struggle to get awake; after the
second breakfast he ceased struggling, and for a siesta sank into his
hammock. After dinner, at nine o'clock, he was prepared to sleep in
earnest, and went to bed. The official life as explained to Everett by
Garland, the American consul, was equally monotonous. When President
Mendoza was not in the mountains deer-hunting, or suppressing a
revolution,