ard. These proved that General Russo was a valiant
fighter but a poor tactician--and that was all. He was opposed by a
commander of little courage but singular skill in strategy. To restore
the balance, Dom Corria took the field in person, and Dom Miguel
Barraca hastened from Rio de Janeiro to witness the crushing of his
arch-enemy.

The position was complicated by the arrival at Pernambuco of a German
squadron bearing a telegraphic cartel from the Emperor. A German ship
had been seized on the high seas. Why? And by whom? And how could
anybody dare? Then Brazil quivered, for every South American knows in
his heart that the great navy of Germany is being created not so much
to destroy England as to dispute the proud doctrine of the United
States that no European power shall ever again be allowed to seize
territory on the American continent.

So there were strenuous days and anxious nights at Las Flores, where
President De Sylva sought to equip and discipline his levies, and at
Carugru, where President Barraca called on all the gods to witness that
De Sylva was a double-dyed traitor.

Under such circumstances it is not surprising that a grand display of
money and audacity, backed by sundry distant roars of the British lion,
should enable two elderly Britons and a young Brazilian lady to pass
through the lines of the Exercito Nacional, as Barraca had christened
his following, in opposition to De Sylva's army of Liberation. Lest
too many people should become interested, the adventure was essayed on
the night of October 2d. Early next day the travelers and their guides
reached the rebel outposts. The young lady, who seemed to be at home
in this wild country, at once urged her horse into a pace wholly beyond
the equestrian powers of her staid companions. They protested vainly.
She waved a farewell hand, cantered over several miles of a rough road,
and dashed up to the Liberationist headquarters about eight o'clock.

There was no hesitancy about her movements. She drew rein in approved
Gaucho style, bringing her mount to a dead stop from a gallop.

"Where is the President?" she asked breathlessly.

"There, senhora," said an orderly, pointing to a marquee, open on every
side, wherein De Sylva sat in conference with his staff.

So many officers and mounted soldiers were coming and going, so great
was the bustle of preparation for some important movement then in
train, that no one specially noted her arrival.