me was his headgear. He wore one of those wool
caps, half an inch thick, with which an inscrutable Providence has moved
the peasantry of this blistering isle to inflict themselves. He had the
ear flaps down. It made me sweat again to see him. But he seemed
amazingly cool. And so indeed he was, for this was Angus Jones.

"Do you find yourself in need of a fire?" I asked.

"It's for a light to my pipe."

"I'd rather not disturb myself," I told him, "but a smoke is an
inducement. If the tobacco is worth it, I can probably raise a match or
two from some fisherman."

"Rest yourself again," he said, observing me with interest. "I see you
are a man of judgment.... It was my idea if I could beg a match I could
also beg the rest."

So we reclined in the shade together, Angus Jones and I, and conversed
in the liberal fashion of our calling.

"I am newly come from over yon." He hooked a thumb toward the mountains
that wall the almost unknown North Coast. "The cheese from ewes is
sustaining but monotonous. The people are of an incredible simplicity.
They talk pure Portuguese of the fourteenth century, and they count on
their fingers."

"You should have stayed there," I made answer. "The people here are
sophisticated by tourists and poverty. Also cheese is superior to cactus
fruit, and from sugar cane one turns at last with loathing."

"Do you work for it?"

I was long since lost to shame. I confessed how I ballyhooed at the door
of an embroidery shop whenever a ship loosed English passengers for a
two-hour visit.

"Not good enough," decided Angus Jones. "Though, mark you, I should
never admit a town of this size to be as barren as you say. Still I am
fed up with Madeira. I am disappointed in Madeira. Is it believable,
after my stay of a month, I have yet to meet the famous wine of the name
on its native heath?"

"Quite, since it does not exist. You could have met only an inferior
imported Malaga with a fake label."

"Can such things be?" asked Jones, with an expression of pain.

"Oh, it's all a fraud. Like the coasters from the Monte that have to be
shoved, and the embroidery, which is cheaper in Paris, and the beggars,
who are the only wealthy citizens by escaping the taxes."

He considered.

"I think I shall not stay. Tell me, how does a lad like you or me set
about getting away from Madeira?"

"How much money have you?"

"As much as a gentleman needs."

"Not good enough," I echoed. "This is the one place