"I have looked into the history of the country a good bit," said he.
"It is quite interesting. They have had just twenty-three
_presidentes_ and four dictators, and there have been twelve
assassinations. I believe candidates for the office are liable to
arrest for attempted suicide--"

The girl paused at the window. She had not been listening. Her eyes,
were fastened upon the figure of a man whose skulking form she had made
out where the glow of the window almost opposite the speakers' table
fell upon the garden. Now she saw him again. He had a gun in his
hands and was beginning to kneel.

Breathless and rigid the girl slowly stretched out her hand and touched
Dan on the shoulder; with the other she pointed silently at the
crouching figure. The gun was now being raised to aim, probably at the
_Presidente_, who was speaking, possibly at Mr. Howland. Dan
apprehended the situation at once. In the flash of an eye he was
making for the assassin like an antelope. Hearing the approaching
footfalls, the man turned his head, and then, with a cry, Virginia saw
him arise and shift his weapon toward Dan.

[Illustration: In the flash of an eye, Dan was making for the assassin.]

But he was too late. At least ten feet away Dan left his feet and
launched himself into one of those old-time tackles which even in
Exeter had attracted the eyes of the football authorities of three
universities. Hard and straight he went, head to one side, jaws shut
tight. Then he struck, one brawny shoulder snapping full into the
man's midriff. You have to know how to fall when tackled by a good
man. This San Blancan did not. He went down like a falling tower.
The gun was discharged in the air with a resounding report and flew
into the bushes. The man lay still, gasping. The dinner ended
abruptly and in great confusion. Guests poured out of the windows,
tables were overturned.

Dan quickly dragged the prostrate man into a clump of mesquite. His
first impulse had been to turn him over to the soldiers. But the
defiant, if faint murmurs of the patriot, "Long live San Blanco; death
to Rodriguez!" bringing back to him his emotions of the morning, caused
him to decide differently. He seized the man by the collar.

"Stand up," he said, "you are not hurt; only a bit winded. I guess
Rodriguez has had enough heads without yours. You thought you were
acting for your country's good; I guess you were, from all I hear."

The man had bee