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"I shall see Holroyd himself on my way back through the States," said
Sir John. "I've ascertained that he, too, wants the railway."

The man who, perhaps disturbed by the proximity of the voices, had
arisen from the ground, struck a match to light a cigarette. The flame
showed a bronzed, black-whiskered face, a pair of eyes gazing straight;
then, rearranging his wrappings, he sank full length and laid his head
again on the saddle.

"That's our camp-master, whom I must send back to Sulaco now we
are going to carry our survey into the Sta. Marta Valley," said the
engineer. "A most useful fellow, lent me by Captain Mitchell of the
O.S.N. Company. It was very good of Mitchell. Charles Gould told me I
couldn't do better than take advantage of the offer. He seems to know
how to rule all these muleteers and peons. We had not the slightest
trouble with our people. He shall escort your diligencia right into
Sulaco with some of our railway peons. The road is bad. To have him at
hand may save you an upset or two. He promised me to take care of your
person all the way down as if you were his father."

This camp-master was the Italian sailor whom all the Europeans in
Sulaco, following Captain Mitchell's mispronunciation, were in the
habit of calling Nostromo. And indeed, taciturn and ready, he did take
excellent care of his charge at the bad parts of the road, as Sir John
himself acknowledged to Mrs. Gould afterwards.



CHAPTER SIX

At that time Nostromo had been already long enough in the country
to raise to the highest pitch Captain Mitchell's opinion of the
extraordinary value of his discovery. Clearly he was one of those
invaluable subordinates whom to possess is a legitimate cause of
boasting. Captain Mitchell plumed himself upon his eye for men--but
he was not selfish--and in the innocence of his pride was already
developing that mania for "lending you my Capataz de Cargadores" which
was to bring Nostromo into personal contact, sooner or later, with
every European in Sulaco, as a sort of universal factotum--a prodigy of
efficiency in his own sphere of life.

"The fellow is devoted to me, body and soul!" Captain Mitchell was
given to affirm; and though nobody, perhaps, could have explained why it
should be so, it was impossible on a survey of their relation to throw
doubt on that statement, unless, indeed, one were a bitter, eccentric
character like Dr. Monygham--for instance--whose short, hopeless laugh
expressed somehow an immense mistrust of mankind. Not that Dr. Monygham
was a prodigal either of laughter or of words. He was bitterly taciturn
when at his best. At his worst people feared the open scornfulness of
his tongue. Only Mrs. Gould could keep his unbelief in men's motives
within due bounds; but even to her (on an occasion not connected with
Nostromo, and in a tone which for him was gentle), even to her, he had
said once, "Really, it is most unreasonable to demand that a man
should think of other people so much better than he is able to think of

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