, yes," and chuckling, he indicated the
bodies with his pistol. "But wait----" He thought he saw a form quiver,
one he had overlooked. Remedying this with a belated coup de grace
through the brain, he shoved back his white gold-bordered sombrero and
mopped his forehead as a laborer whose labor is done.

"Under which general amnesty, caballeros," he went on merrily, "you have
just witnessed the first act. My loyalty to the Emperor grows. His
Majesty has a sense of humor."

It was Don Tiburcio. He had deserted the Contras to waylay the rich
bullion convoy of which Rodrigo Galan had told him. But the convoy never
came. Rodrigo, the "sin vergueenza," had not levied toll at all. He had
swallowed it whole, a luscious morsel of several millions in silver and
gold. The coup was of a humor the less appreciated by Don Tiburcio
because he had figured on doing the very same thing himself. At present
he was chief of scouts under Mendez, and commanded the Exploradores,
audacious barbarians who were invaluable for their knowledge of the
country.

From Tiburcio and Ney Driscoll finally gathered the meaning of the
decree. It was the keynote to the Imperialist hopes. Its cause was the
flight of Juarez across the border. Maximilian was surcharged anew with
enthusiasm. Even the United States must now recognize his empire, he
believed. And confounding flurry with activity, as usual, he fervently
proclaimed the courage and constancy of Don Benito Juarez, but added
that the Republican hegira finally and definitely stamped all further
resistance to the Empire as useless. Then, august and Caesar-like, he
allowed amnesty for those who submitted immediately; he prescribed death
for all others. Rebels taken in battle were not even to have trial.
Maximilian believed that ink, thus sagaciously besmeared by a
statesman's fingers, would blot out further revolution. But it was so
fatuous, so stupidly unnecessary! The court martials, or French gardens
of acclimatization, as the dissidents called them, were already doing
the work of the decree. The poet prince merely lifted the odium of it to
his own shoulders. His amnesty became infamy, and was called the Bando
Negro, a nefast Decree to blacken his gentleness and well-meaning for
all time.

Driscoll left his informants, and walked up and down, up and down,
alone. It did not occur to him to fill the cob pipe between his teeth. A
scowl settled between his eyes, and it deepened and grew ugly. The
desp