“I MIND the day,” said the story-teller, “when Higgins blew into Havana. We was workin’ in the corral then, an’ the troops was nearly all mustered out, an’, say, there was as fine a bunch of guys there as you’d find in a day’s walk. But, anyhow, Higgins was not of their class, we could all see that; and, say, his name wasn’t Higgins any more than mine is Daniel Webster.

“He was as good-lookin’ young chap as ever lived, and, say, couldn’t he sing, and play, and act, and recite pieces of poetry to beat the band! Well, sir, he went to board with a young, so to speak, married couple, an’ that was the end of his peace of mind. The woman was a darn fool and the man was a darn brute. He was a French Haitian, and she was the daughter of a Cuban woman, who was then married to an American man. Well, the husband used to get drunk and beat her up, to beat sense into her head, but it didn’t do much good. All she cared about was clothes and flattery.

“Several of the fellers kind a took a shine to her, but she always tricked ’em in some way; if she didn’t get money out of ’em she’d frame up some story about ’em to her man, and he’d come around with a shotgun and ’ud scare the wits out of ’em. So, after a while, they let the baggage alone. Young Higgins, however, kep’ her at arms’ length, but he used to take her part whenever she was bein’ badly used by the man she was livin’ with. Well, once Higgins rolled up his sleeves and gave the brute a beating such as he never got before. His face looked like a jellyfish when Higgins got through with him. We all stood around in a ring and watched to see fair play. The bully was big enough to eat Higgins, but he sure got the worst of it. When ’twas all over he was removed to the hospital, and the woman’s father came forward and told Higgins that the man was goin’ back to Hayti and never intended to live with his daughter again; that she would have to go on the town, etc. Well, anyway, it fell upon Higgins to take care of her, and he did it like a man. But there was no love business. Higgins signed an agreement that he would take care of the woman until such time as she would get a man who would marry her, because she wasn’t really married to the Haitian, anyway.

“Soon after this Higgins left Havana and came here to the Isthmus. He sent her a check every month, and she lived with her mother and father, and was respectable; but I’m doggoned if she didn’t come to the Isthmus last week, and she’s now living in Panama, while Higgins is gone to the other end of the line to live. She’s a fine lookin’ woman, but she ain’t got a grain of sense, and she’s stuck on herself, an’ I come around to ye fellers to see if ye couldn’t do somethin’ to get her took off of Higgins’ hands.”

“I know Higgins, an’, with his fine notions of right and wrong, he’d never stand for any scheme against a woman,” said one of the listeners. “Why, Higgins wouldn’t let us fellers talk about a woman. When we’d start to talk, he’d start to play the fiddle, an’ then, of course, we’d shut up.”

“But why not get a line on her and send some soft guy around who’ll fall for her, an’ that’ll let Higgins out?” asked the story-teller. “And, if she don’t fall, why, there would be no harm done.”

“Two sleuths were sent out to sound Higgins and two were sent out to get a line on the lady, and, after a week, the four made a report as follows: Higgins is morose and peevish; refused to talk of the lady. Lady is a good-looker, but is lonesome and needs a home. Never sees Higgins, and says that if it was not for him she’d still be in with her husband.”

“Well, doggone her!” exclaimed Higgins’ friends in chorus.

“I’ll tell ye, boys,” said one of the oldest men present. “I know a man that’ll take her for better or worse on sight if she’s a good-looker, and I’ll bring him around in a few minutes, and we’ll get to talkin’ her up to him—kind of advertisin’ her.”

“The friends, very much interested, agreed, and the man departed in search of Bill Wiley, for that was the name of the unsuspecting man who was so soon to be made a victim on the altar of the Higgins. Bill Wiley’s sentiments were well known to the men in that bachelor house. If he had a weakness in the world it was for ladies that were, from his stand-point, good-lookers, large, florid, beefy, ladies that showed their keep. Bill made two hundred and twenty-five dollars a month, and was lonesome for a mate and a home. He was not handsome nor elegant, but he had a taking way with him, a bank account of ten thousand dollars and a house and twenty acres of land in Florida. A note was made of this for the lady’s benefit, and when Bill came to the house that night, being led there by John Hogan, each man made a mental note that Higgins would be soon a free man.

“‘What do you think of the Goethal’s gateway?’ asked John Hogan, as he handed Bill a cigar.

“‘It’s a good idea.’

“‘The finest lookin’ woman that ever came to the Isthmus,’ floated to Bill’s ears, ‘an’, as for style, she beats any one you ever saw.’

“‘I guess I’ll go over there an’ hear about that girl the fellers are talkin’ about,’ said Bill. ‘Who is she?’

“‘She’s a widow lady that lives in Panama an’ complains of being lonely.’

“‘Poor thing,’ said Bill, ‘I know what that means. I’m lonely myself most of the time.’

“‘She’s a fine woman,’ said John Hogan, in a musing tone. ‘I wish to gawd she’d care for me. She’s pink an’ white, with black hair and black eyes, and is nice and plump.’

“‘Maybe she’d care for you,’ said Bill.

“‘Not likely; she said she wouldn’t marry the best man that ever lived unless she loved him, and even then he’d have to have ten thousand dollars.’

“‘You might give a fellow an introduction to her,’ said Bill Wiley at the mention of this sum, which he possessed.”