nd, with
his revolver at command, strolled up the main street. The hottest part
of the day being near, few of the people were astir or visible. Most
of them were asleep within doors, their siesta beginning before the
mid-day meal and lasting long afterward.

A single pony came stumbling forward at the first turn of the street,
so heaped over with bundles that little more than his head, ears and
front legs below the knees were in sight. His driver, swarthy,
long-haired, and in sombrero, slouched at the side of the animal,
whacking his haunches now and then, swearing at him in mongrel
Spanish, to both of which the brute paid no more heed than to the tiny
flies that nipped in vain at his armor-like hide.

CHAPTER VIII.

A few paces after the second turn brought the American to the palace
of President Yozarro,--a long, low, bamboo structure, standing on
slightly rising ground, where it could catch what little air sometimes
caressed the town at this time of day. The largest apartment at the
rear was the cabinet or council room of the Dictator and President,
since the open windows on that side were sure to receive the cool
breath of the mountains when it stole through the open windows.

The American officer was fortunate in the time of his call. In the
long hall he met two men in uniform, well advanced in years and
stooping in an unmilitary way, whom he recognized as the leading
officers and counsellors of President Yozarro. It was manifest that
they had been holding a conference. The Major saluted them as he
passed down the hall to where a guard stood outside the door, musket
in hand.

"Will you say to his Excellency that Major Starland desires to speak
with him?" asked our friend in excellent Spanish. The Major did not
send in his card, for, truth to tell, he had none printed in the
language of the country, and he knew the other possessed no knowledge
of English.

The guard tapped on the door and disappeared for a minute. When he
came back, he held the door open and nodded to the visitor. Major
Starland, hat in hand, passed within with brisk, military step,
saluted and awaited the pleasure of the President of the Atlamalcan
Republic.

The latter was seated behind a large desk at the farther side of the
room, smoking a cigarette and facing the visitor. He was of short
stature and lacked the protuberant rotundity of President Bambos. Like
him his mustache was of glossy blackness and was waxed to needle-like