Algarrobe torches carried on the outskirts of the moving body sent their
penetrating aroma into his nostrils. Their light, sweeping along the
front of the house, made the letters of the inscription, "Albergo
d'ltalia Una," leap out black from end to end of the long wall. His eyes
blinked in the clear blaze. Several young men, mostly fair and tall,
shepherding this mob of dark bronzed heads, surmounted by the glint of
slanting rifle barrels, nodded to him familiarly as they went by. The
doctor was a well-known character. Some of them wondered what he was
doing there. Then, on the flank of their workmen they tramped on,
following the line of rails.
"Withdrawing your people from the harbour?" said the doctor, addressing
himself to the chief engineer of the railway, who had accompanied
Charles Gould so far on his way to the town, walking by the side of the
horse, with his hand on the saddle-bow. They had stopped just outside
the open door to let the workmen cross the road.
"As quick as I can. We are not a political faction," answered the
engineer, meaningly.
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