opened to the Republic of
Zalapata."

The thin husky voice climbed several notes of the register, and the
right hand of the speaker thumped so hard on the table that it shook.
The noise would have been considerable, had not the impact been dulled
by the fleshy cushion that smothered the knuckles of the orator.

Without stirring a muscle, Major Starland glanced sideways at the face
of the General, who swung his head around like a turtle peeping from
his shell and stared again at Captain Guzman. The latter snatched his
cigarette from his lips and nodded quickly several times.

General Bambos swung back to the upright poise, or rather went a
little beyond it since his bulky protuberance in front gave him
the appearance of leaning backward. The deepening crimson of his
countenance showed the profundity of his anger.

"How much longer shall we submit to the insults of that infamous
tyrant, President Yozarro of the Republic of Atlamalco. Actuated by my
fervent love of peace, my affection for my people, and my ardent
desire for their happiness, I have acquiesced in wrong, vainly hoping
that a sense of justice would restrain the oppressor from going too
far. But he mistakes our calmness for fear, until every man of
intelligence clearly perceives that unless resistance is made,--not
simple resistance alone, but aggressive protest, the grand, glorious
Republic of Zalapata will become a mere appanage of Atlamalco. I have
remonstrated with General Yozarro, and in return he treats me with
contumely and insult. My nature revolts, my blood is stirred--"

To make more emphatic the ebullition of his circulation, General
Bambos abruptly stopped speaking and snatched out his perfumed silk
handkerchief from beneath the partly unbuttoned breast of his coat,
and mopped his lumpy forehead. He had carefully conned his oration,
but his surging emotion would not give him pause. The climax leaped
from him. At the highest reach of his vibrant, staccato voice, he
shouted:

"The time has come to draw the sword!"

Grasping the top of his scabbard with his left hand, and the handle
of his sword with his right, he made a curving swing upward, while
drawing the blade from its nestling place. There was always difficulty
in doing this, since when the arm was extended to its limit, two or
three inches of the point of the weapon remained in the sheath. The
only way to overcome the hitch was to push downward and backward with
the hand which inclose