turned. She has
steam up, and could slip her cables in a minute. They saw her from the
bridge, of course, but I did not report her, as there was a chance that
my hail might be heard, and we came in so confidently that we are
looked on as a local trader. Come, let us buy a programme."

He took her by the arm with that masterful gentleness that is so
comforting to a woman when danger is rife. Even his jesting allusion
to their theatrical arrival in port was cheering. They reached the
bridge. Some sailors were lowering a boat as quietly as possible.

Dom Corria approached with outstretched hand.

"Good-by, Miss Yorke," he said. "I am leaving you for a few hours, not
longer. When next we meet I ought to have a sure grip of the
Presidential ladder, and I shall climb quickly. Won't you wish me
luck?"

"I wish you all good fortune, Dom Corria," said Iris. "May your plans
succeed without bloodshed!"

"Ah, this is South America, remember. Our conflicts are usually short
and fierce. _Au revoir_, Mr. Hozier. By daybreak we shall be better
friends."

San Benavides also bade them farewell, with an easy grace not wholly
devoid of melodramatic pathos. The dandy and the man of rags climbed
down a rope ladder, the boat fell away from the ship's side, and the
night took them.

"What did he mean by saying you would be 'better friends'?" whispered
the girl. "Have you quarreled?"

"We had a small dispute as to the wisdom of landing you here," said
Philip. "Perhaps I was wrong. He is a clever man, and he surely knows
his own country."

"Mr. Hozier!" cried Coke.

"Yes, sir."

"Is all clear forrard to let go anchor?"

"Yes, sir."

"Give her thirty. You go and see to it, will you?"

Hozier made off at a run.

Iris recalled the last time she heard similar words. She shuddered.
Would that placid foreshore blaze out into a roar of artillery, and the
worn-out _Unser Fritz_, like the worn-out _Andromeda_, stagger and
lurch into a watery grave.

But the only noise that jarred the peaceful night was the rattle of the
cable and winch. The ship fell away a few feet, and was held. There
was no moving light on the river. Not even a police boat or Customs
launch had put off. Maceio was asleep; it was quite unprepared for the
honor of a Presidential visit.

CHAPTER XIII

THE NEW ERA

A swaggering officer and a man habited like a beggar landed unobserved
at a coal wharf, moored a ship's boat to a bolt,