k him much honester than
other Spanish-American rulers he had met.

"It was partly for my daughter's sake I remained," Alvarez replied. "She
is at a Spanish convent and I would not leave her poor. Then I had my
son's death to avenge." He paused and added with a deprecatory smile:
"Moreover I have thought I can rule this country better than my rival."

"That's a sure thing," Adam agreed, in English. "Well, you had better
tell me how you think matters are going. If I'm to help you properly I
want to know."

Alvarez looked about. All was very quiet; there was nobody in the patio,
and it was some distance to the nearest window in the wall that faced the
pillars. For all that, he lowered his voice and answered in hesitating
English with an American accent.

"It is hard to tell; a gamble in which one takes steep chances! Perhaps
half the people with an object are for Galdar, and half for me. Those who
have none will wait and back the man they think will win. So far, I have
the soldiers, but their pay is behind and they are badly armed and
drilled. They will stand by me if I can give them machine-guns and pay
off arrears. But this must be done soon, without Galdar knowing. The next
president will be the man who strikes before the other is ready."

"What will the thing cost altogether?" Adam asked.

He looked thoughtful when Alvarez told him, and then nodded. "All right.
You'll get some of the guns to-morrow and another lot is on the way. Go
ahead; I'll help you put the business over."

Alvarez filled the little glasses with a liquor that had a strong spicy
smell and when his guests lifted them touched theirs with his.

"It is what I had hoped, my friend. If I live, you will not lose."

He drank and then held his glass slackly poised while he mused. Kit, who
was nearest the arch, turned and glanced out. He saw the reflected light
quiver across the trampled sand and the dusty green of the limp
palmettos. Then, below the latter, there was a pale-yellow flash and the
president's glass fell with a tinkle. A pistol-shot rang out and Kit,
swinging round, saw that a flake of plaster had dropped on the table.
There was some dust on Alvarez' brown face and on his clothes, but he
looked unmoved.

Next moment Adam leaned on the table, steadying a heavy automatic pistol,
and three quick flashes streamed from the perking barrel. Three small
puffs of dust leaped up about the roots of a palmetto and as the empty
cartridges rattled