res Americanos turned the struggle
for liberty in our favour. Our party triumphed. The terrible battle
will live forever in history.

"'Battle?' says I; 'what battle?' and I ran my mind back along
history, trying to think.

"'Senor Casparis is modest,' says General Dingo. 'He led his brave
compadres into the thickest of the fearful conflict. Yes. Without
their aid the revolution would have failed.'

"'Why, now,' says I, 'don't tell me there was a revolution
yesterday. That was only a Fourth of--'

"But right there I abbreviated. It seemed to me it might be best.

"'After the terrible struggle,' says the bay man, 'President Bolano
was forced to fly. To-day Caballo is President by proclamation. Ah,
yes. Beneath the new administration I am the head of the Department
of Mercantile Concessions. On my file I find one report, Senor
Casparis, that you have not made ice in accord with your contract.'
And here the bay man smiles at me, 'cute.

"'Oh, well,' says I, 'I guess the report's straight. I know they
caught me. That's all there is to it.'

"'Do not say so,' says the bay man. He pulls off a glove and goes
over and lays his hand on that chunk of glass.

"'Ice,' says he, nodding his head, solemn.

"General Dingo also steps over and feels of it.

"'Ice,' says the General; 'I'll swear to it.'

"'If Senor Casparis,' says the bay man, 'will present himself to the
treasury on the sixth day of this month he will receive back the
thousand dollars he did deposit as a forfeit. Adios, senor.'

"The General and the bay man bowed themselves out, and I bowed as
often as they did.

"And when the carriage rolls away through the sand I bows once more,
deeper than ever, till my hat touches the ground. But this time
'twas not intended for them. For, over their heads, I saw the old
flag fluttering in the breeze above the consul's roof; and 'twas to
it I made my profoundest salute."

XIV

THE EMANCIPATION OF BILLY

In the old, old, square-porticoed mansion, with the wry
window-shutters and the paint peeling off in discoloured flakes,
lived one of the last of the war governors.

The South has forgotten the enmity of the great conflict, but it
refuses to abandon its old traditions and idols. In "Governor"
Pemberton, as he was still fondly called, the inhabitants of
Elmville saw the relic of their state's ancient greatness and glory.
In his day he had been a man large in the eye of his country. His
state had pressed