“C. Q.” or, In the Wireless House
country. It ees fine—so warm in winter an’ so cool in summer!
“But I thought Algeria was hot!” protested the girl.
“Algerie? Chaud! Ah, non, mademoiselle!” he cried, his face lighting up. “It ees like heaven. No hot weather like you have in New York. Always nice.”
“Say, Frenchie, what are you givin’ us?” inquired the broad-shouldered chauffeur of an American railroad-owner. “Kinder hot in the desert, ain’t it?”
“Mais, we do not live in the desert, m’sieu.” answered the other courteously. “Our plantations are in the mountains and the valleys. It ees not too hot for ’uman bein’s. Of course in the desert! Que voulez vous? But even dere in the Legion Etrangére build the roads in the sun. Those are the brave garçons, m’sieu! From all over the world they come—Espagne, Suisse, Russie, Allemagne, et les Etats Unis d’Amerique.”
“The United States?” questioned the chauffeur.
“Certainement, m'sieu!” the Algerian assured him. “They also work for nuthin’—27
