nother, he became more and more convinced of it, and more and more
devoted to it. He was twenty then, and he was now twenty-three, and in
that time had become a great reporter, and had been to Presidential
conventions in Chicago, revolutions in Hayti, Indian outbreaks on the
Plains, and midnight meetings of moonlighters in Tennessee, and had
seen what work earthquakes, floods, fire, and fever could do in great
cities, and had contradicted the President, and borrowed matches from
burglars. And now he thought he would like to rest and breathe a bit,
and not to work again unless as a war correspondent. The only obstacle
to his becoming a great war correspondent lay in the fact that there
was no war, and a war correspondent without a war is about as absurd an
individual as a general without an army. He read the papers every
morning on the elevated trains for war clouds; but though there were
many war clouds, they always drifted apart, and peace smiled again.
This was very disappointing to young Gordon, and he became more and
more keenly discouraged.

And then as war work was out of the question, he decided to write his
novel. It was to be a novel of New York life, and he wanted a quiet
place in which to work on it. He was already making inquiries among
the suburban residents of his acquaintance for just such a quiet spot,
when he received an offer to go to the Island of Opeki in the North
Pacific Ocean, as secretary to the American consul at that place. The
gentleman who had been appointed by the President to act as consul at
Opeki was Captain Leonard T. Travis, a veteran of the Civil War, who
had contracted a severe attack of rheumatism while camping out at night
in the dew, and who on account of this souvenir of his efforts to save
the Union had allowed the Union he had saved to support him in one
office or another ever since. He had met young Gordon at a dinner, and
had had the presumption to ask him to serve as his secretary, and
Gordon, much to his surprise, had accepted his offer. The idea of a
quiet life in the tropics with new and beautiful surroundings, and with
nothing to do and plenty of time in which to do it, and to write his
novel besides, seemed to Albert to be just what he wanted; and though
he did not know nor care much for his superior officer, he agreed to go
with him promptly, and proceeded to say good-by to his friends and to
make his preparations. Captain Travis was so delighted with getting