The steamship _Santa Barbara_, of the United Fruit Line, movedslowly through the glittering water of the bay on her way to dock. Outat quarantine earlier in the morning there had been a mist, throughwhich passing ships loomed up vague and shapeless; but now the sun haddispersed it and a perfect May morning welcomed the _SantaBarbara_ home.

　　Kirk leaned on the rail, looking with dull eyes on the city he had lefta year before. Only a year! It seemed ten. As he stood there he felt anold man.

　　A drummer, a cheery soul who had come aboard at Porto Rico, saunteredup, beaming with well-being and good-fellowship.

　　"Looks pretty good, sir," said he.

　　Kirk did not answer. He had not heard.

　　"Some burg," ventured the drummer.

　　Again encountering silence, he turned away, hurt. This churlishattitude on the part of one returning to God's country on one of God'sown mornings surprised and wounded him.

　　To him all was right with the world. He had breakfasted well; he wassmoking a good cigar; and he was strong in the knowledge that he haddone well by the firm this trip and that bouquets were due to be handedto him in the office on lower Broadway. He was annoyed with Kirk forhaving cast even a tiny cloud upon his contentment.

　　He communicated his feelings to the third officer, who happened to comeon deck at that moment.

　　"Say, who _is_ that guy?" he asked complainingly. "The big son ofa gun leaning on the rail. Seems like he'd got a hangover this morning.

　　Is he deaf and dumb or just plain grouchy?"The third officer eyed Kirk's back with sympathy.

　　"I shouldn't worry him, Freddie," he said. "I guess if you had been upagainst it like him you'd be shy on the small talk. That's a fellowcalled Winfield. They carried him on board at Colon. He was about allin. Got fever in Colombia, inland at the mines, and nearly died. Hispal did die. Ever met Hank Jardine?""Long, thin man?"The other nodded.

　　"One of the best. He made two trips with us.""And he's dead?""Died of fever away back in the interior, where there's nothing muchelse except mosquitoes. He and Winfield went in there after gold.""Did they get any?" asked the drummer, interested.

　　The third officer spat disgustedly over the rail.

　　"You ask Winfield. Or, rather, don't, because I guess it's not his petsubject. He told me all about it when he was getting better. There wasgold there, all right, in chunks. It only needed to be dug for. Andsomebody else did the digging. Of all the skin games! It made me prettyhot under the collar, and it wasn't _me_ that was stung.

　　"Out there you can't buy land if you're a foreigner; you have to leaseit from the natives. Poor old Hank leased his bit, all right, and whenhe'd got to his claim he found somebody else working on it. It seemedthere had been a flaw in his agreement and the owners had let it overhis head to these other guys, who had slipped them more than what Hankhad done.""What did he do?""He couldn't do anything. They were the right side of the law, or whatthey call law out there. There was nothing to do except beat it backagain three hundred miles to the coast. That's where they got the feverwhich finished Hank. So you can understand," concluded the thirdofficer, "that Mr. Winfield isn't in what you can call a sunny mood. IfI were you, I'd go and talk to someone else, if conversation's what youneed."Kirk stood motionless at the rail, thinking. It was not what was pastthat occupied his thoughts, as the third officer had supposed; it wasthe future.