od of the plebs.
Colonel Rocas ascended the steps and laid his sword theatrically at
young Ramon Olivarra's feet. Four members of the cabinet embraced
him. Captain Cruz gave a command, and twenty of _El Ciento Huilando_
dismounted and arranged themselves in a cordon about the steps of
Casa Morena.

But Ramon Olivarra seized that moment to prove himself a born genius
and politician. He waved those soldiers aside, and descended the
steps to the street. There, without losing his dignity or the
distinguished elegance that the loss of his red hair brought him,
he took the proletariat to his bosom--the barefooted, the dirty,
Indians, Caribs, babies, beggars, old, young, saints, soldiers and
sinners--he missed none of them.

While this act of the drama was being presented, the scene shifters
had been busy at the duties that had been assigned to them. Two
of Cruz's dragoons had seized the bridle reins of Losada's horses;
others formed a close guard around the carriage; and they galloped
off with the tyrant and his two unpopular Ministers. No doubt a place
had been prepared for them. There are a number of well-barred stone
apartments in Coralio.

"_Rouge_ wins," said Mr. Vincenti, calmly lighting another cigar.

Captain Cronin had been intently watching the vicinity of the stone
steps for some time.

"Good boy!" he exclaimed suddenly, as if relieved. "I wondered if he
was going to forget his Kathleen Mavourneen."

Young Olivarra had reascended the steps and spoken a few words to
General Pilar. Then that distinguished veteran descended to the
ground and approached Pasa, who still stood, wonder-eyed, where Dicky
had left her. With his plumed hat in his hand, and his medals and
decorations shining on his breast, the general spoke to her and gave
her his arm, and they went up the stone steps of the Casa Morena
together. And then Ramon Olivarra stepped forward and took both her
hands before all the people.

And while the cheering was breaking out afresh everywhere, Captain
Cronin and Mr. Vincenti turned and walked back toward the shore where
the gig was waiting for them.

"There'll be another '_presidente proclamada_' in the morning,"
said Mr. Vincenti, musingly. "As a rule they are not as reliable as
the elected ones, but this youngster seems to have some good stuff
in him. He planned and manoeuvred the entire campaign. Olivarra's
widow, you know, was wealthy. After her husband was assassinated
she went to the States, an