Within a week a suitable building had been secured inthe Calle Grande， and Mr. Hemstetter’s stock of shoesarranged upon their shelves. The rent of the store wasmoderate； and the stock made a fine showing of neatwhite boxes， attractively displayed.
Johnny’s friends stood by him loyally. On the first dayKeogh strolled into the store in a casual kind of wayabout once every hour， and bought shoes. After he hadpurchased a pair each of extension soles， congress gaiters，button kids， low-quartered calfs， dancing pumps， rubberboots， tans of various hues， tennis shoes and floweredslippers， he sought out Johnny to be prompted as to thenames of other kinds that he might inquire for. The otherEnglish-speaking residents also played their parts nobly bybuying often and liberally. Keogh was grand marshal， andmade them distribute their patronage， thus keeping up afair run of custom for several days.
Mr. Hemstetter was gratified by the amount of businessdone thus far； but expressed surprise that the natives wereso backward with their custom.
“Oh， they’re awfully shy，” explained Johnny， as he wipedhis forehead nervously. “They’ll get the habit pretty soon.
They’ll come with a rush when they do come.”
One afternoon Keogh dropped into the consul’s office，chewing an unlighted cigar thoughtfully.
“Got anything up your sleeve？” he inquired of Johnny.
“If you have it’s about time to show it. If you can borrowsome gent’s hat in the audience， and make a lot ofcustomers for an idle stock of shoes come out of it you’dbetter spiel. The boys have all laid in enough footwearto last ’em ten years； and there’s nothing doing in theshoe store but dolcy far nienty. I just came by there. Yourvenerable victim was standing in the door， gazing throughhis specs at the bare toes passing by his emporium. Thenatives here have got the true artistic temperament. Meand Clancy took eighteen tintypes this morning in twohours. There’s been but one pair of shoes sold all day.
Blanchard went in and bought a pair of furlined houseslippersbecause he thought he saw Miss Hemstetter
go into the store. I saw him throw the slippers into thelagoon afterwards.”
“There’s a Mobile fruit steamer coming in tomorrow ornext day，” said Johnny. We can’t do anything until then.”
“What are you going to do—try to create a demand？”
“Political economy isn’t your strong point，” said theconsul， impudently. “You can’t create a demand. But youcan create a necessity for a demand. That’s what I amgoing to do.”
Two weeks after the consul sent his cable， a fruit steamerbrought him a huge， mysterious brown bale of someunknown commodity. Johnny’s influence with the customhousepeople was sufficiently strong for him to get thegoods turned over to him without the usual inspection.
He had the bale taken to the consulate and snugly stowedin the back room. That night he ripped open a corner ofit and took out a handful of the cockleburrs. He examinedthem with the care with which a warrior examines hisarms before he goes forth to battle for his lady-love andlife. The burrs were the ripe August product， as hard asfilberts， and bristling with spines as tough and sharp asneedles. Johnny whistled softly a little tune， and went outto find Billy Keogh.
Later in the night， when Coralio was steeped in slumber，he and Billy went forth into the deserted streets withtheir coats bulging like balloons. All up and down theCalle Grande they went， sowing the sharp burrs carefullyin the sand， along the narrow sidewalks， in every foot ofgrass between the silent houses. And then they took theside streets and byways， missing none. No place wherethe foot of man， woman or child might fall was slighted.
Many trips they made to and from the prickly hoard. Andthen， nearly at the dawn， they laid themselves down torest calmly， as great generals do after planning a victoryaccording to the revised tactics， and slept， knowing thatthey had sowed with the accuracy of Satan sowing taresand the perseverance of Paul planting.
With the rising sun came the purveyors of fruits andmeats， and arranged their wares in and around the littlemarket-house. At one end of the town near the seashorethe market-house stood； and the sowing of the burrs hadnot been carried that far. The dealers waited long pastthe hour when their sales usually began. None came tobuy. “Que hay？” they began to exclaim， one to another. Attheir accustomed time， from every ’dobe and palm hut andgrass-thatched shack and dim patio glided women—blackwomen， brown women， lemon-colored women， womendun and yellow and tawny. They were the marketersstarting to purchase the family supply of cassava， plantains，meat， fowls， and tortillas. Decollete they were and barearmedand bare-footed， with a single skirt reaching belowthe knee. Stolid and ox-eyed， they stepped from theirdoorways into the narrow paths or upon the soft grass ofthe streets.
The first to emerge uttered ambiguous squeals， andraised one foot quickly. Another step and they sat down，with shrill cries of alarm， to pick at the new and painfulinsects that had stung them upon the feet. “Que picadoresdiablos！” they screeched to one another across the narrowways. Some tried the grass instead of the paths， but therethey were also stung and bitten by the strange little pricklyballs. They plumped down in the grass， and added theirlamentations to those of their sisters in the sandy paths.
All through the town was heard the plaint of the femininejabber. The venders in the market still wondered why nocustomers came.
Then men， lords of the earth， came forth. They， too，began to hop， to dance， to limp， and to curse. They stoodstranded and foolish， or stopped to pluck at the scourgethat attacked their feet and ankles. Some loudly proclaimedthe pest to be poisonous spiders of an unknown species.
And then the children ran out for their morning romp.