"I hold him
by that name better than if I had him chained up by the leg to the deck
of the steam-launch.
"And mark," he added, after a pause, "he does not deny it. I am not
wronging him in any way. He is a convict of some sort, anyhow."
"But I suppose you pay him some wages, don't you?" I asked.
"Wages! What does he want with money here? He gets his food from
my kitchen and his clothing from the store. Of course I'll give him
something at the end of the year, but you don't think I'd employ a
convict and give him the same money I would give an honest man? I am
looking after the interests of my company first and last."
I admitted that, for a company spending fifty thousand pounds every
year in advertising, the strictest economy was obviously necessary. The
manager of the Maranon Estancia grunted approvingly.
"And I'll tell you what," he continued: "if I were certain he's an
anarchist and he had the cheek to ask me for money, I would give him
the toe of my boot. However, let him have the benefit of the doubt.
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