The other members of the party had gone on
deck.
"They can do their sightseeing at Galveston and Savannah, where you can
call for your cotton and naval stores as usual." As Dan raised his
eyebrows, Mr. Howland shook his head emphatically. "Can't help it," he
said. "You see by this despatch," pointing to a pile of papers on the
table, "that the _Tybee's_ out of commission for a month; and business is
business, party or no party. And now, Merrithew," stuffing the papers
into his pocket as though all matters concerning them were finally
settled, "I want to ask you about something else. Of course you're in
this Central American service here and will be for a time. I've been
thinking what you said about the fighting the other morning." He lit a
cigar and pushed his case toward Dan. "I gathered you did not exactly
approve of it. Didn't you?"
"Mr. Howland," replied Dan, "it was not the fighting that bothered me, it
was the idea I had landed guns which your men were using to shoot down
other men like sheep. It was a new sensation, and it got into me, I'll
say that. Still it was none of my business; I was carrying out your
instructions. I am sorry I was so unwise as to give you the impression I
did."
"Not at all." Mr. Howland gazed at his cigar a moment, flicking the
ashes off with his little finger.
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