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A Ruler Of Men
by
“‘What’s this?’ says I (for by that time we were well acquainted). ‘The annual parade in vilification of the ex-snakes of Ireland? And what’s the line of march? Up Broadway to Forty-second; thence east to McCarty’s cafe; thence–‘
“‘Sit down on the wash-stand,’ says O’Connor, ‘and listen. And cast no perversions on the sword. ‘Twas me father’s in old Munster. And this map, Bowers, is no diagram of a holiday procession. If ye look again. ye’ll see that it’s the continent known as South America, comprising fourteen green, blue, red, and yellow countries, all crying out from time to time to be liberated from the yoke of the oppressor.’
“‘I know,’ says I to O’Connor. ‘The idea is a literary one. The ten-cent magazine stole it from “Ridpath’s History of the World from the Sand-stone Period to the Equator.” You’ll find it in every one of ’em. It’s a continued story of a soldier of fortune, generally named O’Keefe, who gets to be dictator while the Spanish-American populace cries “Cospetto!” and other Italian maledictions. I misdoubt if it’s ever been done. You’re not thinking of trying that, are you, Barney?’ I asks.
“‘Bowers,’ says he, ‘you’re a man of education and courage.’
“How can I deny it?’ says I. ‘Education runs in my family; and I have acquired courage by a hard struggle with life.’
“‘The O’Connors,’ says he, ‘are a warlike race. There is me father’s sword; and here is the map. A life of inaction is not for me. The O’Connors were born to rule. ‘Tis a ruler of men I must be.’
“‘Barney,’ I says to him, ‘why don’t you get on the force and settle down to a quiet life of carnage and corruption instead of roaming off to foreign parts? In what better way can you indulge your desire to subdue and maltreat the oppressed?’
“‘Look again at the map,’ says he, ‘at the country I have the point of me knife on. ‘Tis that one I have selected to aid and overthrow with me father’s sword.’
“‘I see,’ says I. ‘It’s the green one; and that does credit to your patriotism, and it’s the smallest one; and that does credit to your judgment.’
“‘Do ye accuse me of cowardice?’ says Barney, turning pink.
“‘No man,’ says I, ‘who attacks and confiscates a country single-handed could be called a coward. The worst you can be charged with is plagiarism or imitation. If Anthony Hope and Roosevelt let you get away with it, nobody else will have any right to kick.’
“‘I’m not joking,’ says O’Connor. ‘And I’ve got $1,500 cash to work the scheme with. I’ve taken a liking to you. Do you want it, or not?’
“‘I’m not working,’ I told him; ‘but how is it to be? Do I eat during the fomentation of the insurrection, or am I only to be Secretary of War after the country is conquered? Is it to be a pay envelope or only a portfolio?’
“I’ll pay all expenses,’ says O’Connor. “I want a man I can trust. If we succeed you may pick out any appointment you want in the gift of the government.’
“‘All right, then,’ says I. ‘You can get me a bunch of draying contracts and then a quick-action consignment to a seat on the Supreme Court bench so I won’t be in line for the presidency. The kind of cannon they chasten their presidents with in that country hurt too much. You can consider me on the pay-roll.’
“Two weeks afterward O’Connor and me took a steamer for the small, green, doomed country. We were three weeks on the trip. O’Connor said he had his plans all figured out in advance; but being the commanding general, it consorted with his dignity to keep the details concealed from his army and cabinet, commonly known as William T. Bowers. Three dollars a day was the price for which I joined the cause of liberating an undiscovered country from the ills that threatened or sustained it. Every Saturday night on the steamer I stood in line at parade rest, and O’Connor handed ever the twenty-one dollars.