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this weapon against the hungry headhunters； the department was infinitely
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MY BURIED TREASURE
grateful。 Old man Marshall was a consul after its own heart。 Like a soldier；
he was obedient； disciplined； wherever he was sent； there； without
question； he would go。 Never against exile； against ill…health； against
climate did he make complaint。 Nor when he was moved on and down to
make way for some ne'er…do…well with influence； with a brother…in… law in
the Senate； with a cousin owning a newspaper； with rich relatives who
desired him to drink himself to death at the expense of the government
rather than at their own； did old man Marshall point to his record as a
claim for more just treatment。
And it had been an excellent record。 His official reports； in a quaint；
stately hand； were models of English； full of information； intelligent；
valuable； well observed。 And those few of his countrymen； who stumbled
upon him in the out…of… the…world places to which of late he had been
banished； wrote of him to the department in terms of admiration and awe。
Never had he or his friends petitioned for promotion； until it was at last
apparent that； save for his record and the memory of his dead patron； he
had no friends。 But； still in the department the tradition held and； though
he was not advanced； he was not dismissed。
〃If that old man's been feeding from the public trough ever since the
Civil War；〃 protested a 〃practical〃 politician； 〃it seems to me； Mr。
Secretary； that he's about had his share。 Ain't it time he give some one else
a bite？ Some of us that has； done the work； that has borne the brunt〃
〃This place he now holds；〃 interrupted the Secretary of State suavely；
〃is one hardly commensurate with services like yours。 I can't pronounce
the name of it； and I'm not sure just where it is； but I see that； of the last
six consuls we sent there； three resigned within a month and the other
three died of yellow…fever。 Still； if you。 insist〃
The practical politician reconsidered hastily。 〃I'm not the sort；〃 he
protested； 〃to turn out a man appointed by our martyred President。 Besides；
he's so old now； if the fever don't catch him； he'll die of old age； anyway。〃
The Secretary coughed uncomfortably。 〃And they say；〃 he murmured；
〃republics are ungrateful。〃
〃I don't quite get that；〃 said the practical politician。
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MY BURIED TREASURE
Of Porto Banos； of the Republic of Colombia； where as consul Mr。
Marshall was upholding the dignity of the United States； little could be
said except that it possessed a sure harbor。 When driven from the
Caribbean Sea by stress of weather； the largest of ocean tramps； and even
battle…ships； could find in its protecting arms of coral a safe shelter。 But； as
young Mr。 Aiken； the wireless operator； pointed out； unless driven by a
hurricane and the fear of death； no one ever visited it。 Back of the ancient
wharfs； that dated from the days when Porto Banos was a receiver of
stolen goods for buccaneers and pirates； were rows of thatched huts；
streets； according to the season； of dust or mud； a few iron…barred； jail…like
barracks； customhouses； municipal buildings； and the whitewashed adobe
houses of the consuls。 The backyard of the town was a swamp。 Through
this at five each morning a rusty engine pulled a train of flat cars to the
base of the mountains； and； if meanwhile the rails had not disappeared into
the swamp； at five in the evening brought back the flat cars laden with
odorous coffeesacks。
In the daily life of Porto Banos； waiting for the return of the train； and
betting if it would return； was the chief interest。 Each night the consuls；
the foreign residents； the wireless operator； the manager of the rusty
railroad met for dinner。 There at the head of the long table； by virtue of his
years； of his courtesy and distinguished manner； of his office； Mr。
Marshall presided。 Of the little band of exiles he was the chosen ruler。 His
rule was gentle。 By force of example he had made existence in Porto
Banos more possible。 For women and children Porto Banos was a death…
trap； and before 〃old man Marshall〃 came there had been no influence to
remind the enforced bachelors of other days。
They had lost interest； had grown lax； irritable； morose。 Their white
duck was seldom white。 Their cheeks were unshaven。 When the sun sank
into the swamp and the heat still turned Porto Banos into a Turkish bath；
they threw dice on the greasy tables of the Cafe Bolivar for drinks。 The
petty gambling led to petty quarrels； the drinks to fever。 The coming of Mr。
Marshall changed that。 His standard of life； his tact； his worldly wisdom；
his cheerful courtesy； his fastidious personal neatness shamed the younger
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MY BURIED TREASURE
men； the desire to please him； to； stand well in his good opinion； brought
back pride and self…esteem。
The lieutenant of her Majesty's gun…boat PLOVER noted the change。
〃Used to be；〃 he exclaimed； 〃you couldn't get out of the Cafe Bolivar
without some one sticking a knife in you； now it's a debating club。 They
all sit round a table and listen to an old gentleman talk world politics。〃
If Henry Marshall brought content to the exiles of Porto Banos； there
was little in return that Porto Banos could give to him。 Magazines and
correspondents in six languages kept him in touch with those foreign lands
in which he had represented his country； but of the country he had
represented； newspapers and periodicals showed him only too clearly that
in forty years it had grown away from him； had changed beyond
recognition。
When last he had called at the State Department； he had been made to
feel he was a man without a country； and when he visited his home town
in Vermont； he was looked upon as a Rip Van Winkle。 Those of his
boyhood friends who were not dead had long thought of him as dead。 And
the sleepy； pretty village had become a bustling commercial centre。 In the
lanes where； as a young man； he had walked among wheatfields； trolley…
cars whirled between rows of mills and factories。 The children had grown
to manhood； with children of their own。
Like a ghost； he se