ollections of what? _Por Dios!_ of everything from
postage stamps to prehistoric stone idols."

But, for a mere dilettante, the aesthetic Placido seemed to be
creating a lively row. The people admired him; they were fascinated
by his brilliancy and flattered by his taking an interest in so
small a thing as his native country. They rallied to the call of his
lieutenants in the capital, where (somewhat contrary to arrangements)
the army remained faithful to the government. There was also lively
skirmishing in the coast towns. It was rumoured that the revolution
was aided by the Vesuvius Fruit Company, the power that forever
stood with chiding smile and uplifted finger to keep Anchuria in the
class of good children. Two of its steamers, the _Traveler_ and the
_Salvador_, were known to have conveyed insurgent troops from point
to point along the coast.

As yet there had been no actual uprising in Coralio. Military law
prevailed, and the ferment was bottled for the time. And then came
the word that everywhere the revolutionists were encountering defeat.
In the capital the president's forces triumphed; and there was a
rumour that the leaders of the revolt had been forced to fly, hotly
pursued.

In the little telegraph office at Coralio there was always a
gathering of officials and loyal citizens, awaiting news from the
seat of government. One morning the telegraph key began clicking,
and presently the operator called, loudly: "One telegram for _el
Almirante_, Don Senor Felipe Carrera!"

There was a shuffling sound, a great rattling of tin scabbard, and
the admiral, prompt at his spot of waiting, leaped across the room to
receive it.

The message was handed to him. Slowly spelling it out, he found it to
be his first official order--thus running:

Proceed immediately with your vessel to mouth of Rio Ruiz;
transport beef and provisions to barracks at Alforan.

Martinez, General.

Small glory, to be sure, in this, his country's first call. But it
had called, and joy surged in the admiral's breast. He drew his
cutlass belt to another buckle hole, roused his dozing crew, and in a
quarter of an hour _El Nacional_ was tacking swiftly down coast in a
stiff landward breeze.

The Rio Ruiz is a small river, emptying into the sea ten miles below
Coralio. That portion of the coast is wild and solitary. Through a
gorge in the Cordilleras rushes the Rio Ruiz, cold and bubbling, to
glide, at last, with breadth and le