Part 38 (1/2)

”May the devil take both you and Brazil!” was Philip's most ungracious reply, and he turned and strode out into the night.

CHAPTER XVI

WHEREIN THE PRESIDENT PRESIDES

Before the exciting story so rudely interrupted is resumed, it may be well to set down in their sequence the queer workings of fortune which led to Philip's timely reappearance at Las FIores.

His troop of scouts consisted of twenty-eight men. Five were sailors and firemen from the _Andromeda_; three were Germans from the _Unser Fritz_. But the whole eight were ex-soldiers, and one man-at-arms trained on the European model is worth ten of the Brazilian product.

The remaining twenty were hillmen, good riders, excellent shots, and acquainted with every yard of the wild country within a radius of a hundred miles. They would fight anybody if well led, and here it may be observed that when Philip called on them to storm the ballroom, he said, ”Come on!”; between which curt command and its congener, ”Go on!”

these half-breed warriors drew a fine distinction. The language difficulty was surmounted partly by an interpreter in the person of one of the Germans, who spoke English and had lived in Bahia, partly by signs, and largely by Philip's methods as a leader.

He never asked his men to do anything that he did not do himself, and they were never dubious as to his tactics, since he invariably closed with any Nationalist detachment met during the day's operations.

About mid-day, then, they came upon the advance guard of a column sent off a week earlier by the expert at Pesqueira with instructions to arrive at Las Flores before sunset that very day. Instantly the twenty-nine charged; with equal celerity the advance guard bolted.

From the crest of a rocky pa.s.s Philip looked down on a column of fully a thousand men. The situation was critical. It called for prompt handling. Five men held the horses; twenty-three spread themselves among the rocks; Philip unslung his carbine; and twenty-four rifles indulged in long-range practice on a narrow mountain path crowded with men and animals.

Nothing more was needed. It has been noted already that the Brazilians disliked long-range shooting. There was a stampede. The scouts occupied the ridge until sundown, and were returning leisurely to report the presence of the column, when they fell in with the first batch of fugitives from the valley. Forthwith, Philip became a general and each scout an officer. They reasoned and whacked the runaways into obedience, picked up quite a number of men who were willing enough to fight if told what was expected of them--and the rest was a matter of simple strategy such as Macaulay's schoolboy would exhibit in the escalade of a snow fort. But it was a near thing. Five minutes later, and Hozier might have seized the presidency himself.

And now, as to the night, and the next day.

Russo and his diminished staff took Philip's little army as a nucleus.

Brazil had duly elected Dom Corria, as provided by the statute, and the news spread like wild fire. Before morning, the Liberationists were ten thousand strong. Before night closed the roads again, the Pesqueira genius wrote to Dom Corria under a flag of truce, and pointed out that he served the _President_, not any crank who said he was President, but the honored individual in whom the people of Brazil placed their trust. Dom Corria replied in felicitous terms, and, as the newspapers say, the incident ended. The navy sulked for a while, because they held that Russo's treatment of the _Andorinha_ was not cricket, or baseball, or whatsoever game appeals most to the Brazilian sportsman. It was not even professional football, they said; but an acrimonious discussion was closed by a strong hint from the Treasury that pay-day might be postponed indefinitely if too much were made of a regrettable accident to the guns of the Maceio artillery.

Meanwhile, Dom Corria, the man who did not forget, was puzzled by two circ.u.mstances not of national importance. San Benavides, never a demonstrative lover where Carmela was concerned, was a changed man. He was severely wounded during the fight, and Carmela nursed him a.s.siduously, but there could be no doubt that he was under her thumb, and would remain there. The indications were subtle but unmistakable.

Carmela even announced the date of their marriage.

Dom Corria remembered, of course, what San Benavides and his daughter had said when they all met in the ballroom. It seemed to him that Salvador was telling the truth and that Carmela was fibbing on that occasion. But he let well enough alone. It was good for Salvador that he should obey Carmela. He blessed them, and remarked that a really ”smart” wedding would be just the thing to inaugurate the new reign at Rio de Janeiro.

He was far more perplexed by the untimely wrath of Philip Hozier. He thought of it for at least five minutes next morning. Then he sought d.i.c.key Bulmer, who had just quitted c.o.ke's bedroom, and was examining the rare shrubs that bordered the lawn.

”What news of that brave man?” asked Dom Corria, and his deep voice vibrated with real feeling.

”First-rate, sir,” said d.i.c.key. ”The bullet is extracted, and the doctor says 'e'll soon be all right. Leastways, that's wot Iris tells me. I can't talk Portuguese meself, an' pore old Jimmie's langwidge ain't fit to be repeated.”

The President laughed.

”He is what you call a bundle of contradictions, eh?--a rough fellow with the heart of a bull. But he saved my life, and that naturally counts for a good deal with me. And how is your niece after last night's terrible experience?”

”My niece? D'ye mean Iris?” demanded Bulmer, obviously somewhat annoyed.

”Yes.”

”She's not my niece; she's----”

”Your grand-daughter, then?”