At the head of the insurgent party appeared that Hectorand learned Theban of the southern republics， DonSabas Placido. A traveller， a soldier， a poet， a scientist， astatesman and a connoisseur—the wonder was that hecould content himself with the petty， remote life of hisnative country.
“It is a whim of Placido’s，” said a friend who knew himwell， “to take up political intrigue. It is not otherwisethan as if he had come upon a new tempo in music， a newbacillus in the air， a new scent， or rhyme， or explosive.
He will squeeze this revolution dry of sensations， and aweek afterward will forget it， skimming the seas of theworld in his brigantine to add to his already world-famouscollections. Collections of what？ Por Dios！ of everythingfrom postage stamps to prehistoric stone idols.”
But， for a mere dilettante， the aesthetic Placido seemedto be creating a lively row. The people admired him；they were fascinated by his brilliancy and flattered by histaking an interest in so small a thing as his native country.
They rallied to the call of his lieutenants in the capital，where （somewhat contrary to arrangements） the armyremained faithful to the government. There was also livelyskirmishing in the coast towns. It was rumored that therevolution was aided by the Vesuvius Fruit Company， thepower that forever stood with chiding smile and upliftedfinger to keep Anchuria in the class of good children.
Two of its steamers， the Traveler and the Salvador， wereknown to have conveyed insurgent troops from point topoint along the coast.
As yet there had been no actual uprising in Coralio.
Military law prevailed， and the ferment was bottled forthe time. And then came the word that everywhere therevolutionists were encountering defeat. In the capitalthe president’s forces triumphed； and there was a rumorthat the leaders of the revolt had been forced to fly， hotlypursued.
In the little telegraph office at Coralio there was alwaysa gathering of officials and loyal citizens， awaiting newsfrom the seat of government. One morning the telegraphkey began clicking， and presently the operator called，loudly： “One telegram for el Almirante， Don Senor FelipeCarrera！”
There was a shuffling sound， a great rattling of tinscabbard， and the admiral， prompt at his spot of waiting，leaped across the room to receive it.
The message was handed to him. Slowly spelling it out，he found it to be his first official order—thus running：
“Proceed immediately with your vessel to mouth of RioRuiz； transport beef and provisions to barracks at Alforan.
Martinez， General.”
Small glory， to be sure， in this， his country’s first call.
But it had called， and joy surged in the admiral’s breast.
He drew his cutlass belt to another buckle hole， roused hisdozing crew， and in a quarter of an hour El Nacional wastacking swiftly down coast in a stiff landward breeze.
The Rio Ruiz is a small river， emptying into the sea tenmiles below Coralio. That portion of the coast is wild andsolitary. Through a gorge in the Cordilleras rushes the RioRuiz， cold and bubbling， to glide at last， with breadth andleisure， through an alluvial morass into the sea.
In two hours El Nacional entered the river’s mouth.
The banks were crowded with a disposition of formidabletrees. The sumptuous undergrowth of the tropics overflowedthe land， and drowned itself in the fallow waters.
Silently the sloop entered there， and met a deepersilence. Brilliant with greens and ochres and floral，scarlets， the umbrageous mouth of the Rio Ruiz furnishedno sound or movement save of the sea-going water as itpurled against the prow of the vessel. Small chance thereseemed of wresting beef or provisions from that emptysolitude.
The admiral decided to cast anchor， and， at the chain’srattle， the forest was stimulated to instant and resoundinguproar. The mouth of the Rio Ruiz had only been taking amorning nap. Parrots and baboons screeched and barkedin the trees； a whirring and a hissing and a boomingmarked the awakening of animal life； a dark blue bulk wasvisible for an instant， as a startled tapir fought his waythrough the vines.
The navy， under orders， hung in the mouth of the littleriver for hours. The crew served the dinner of shark’sfin soup， plantains， crab gumbo and sour wine. Theadmiral， with a three-foot telescope， closely scanned theimpervious foliage fifty yards away.
It was nearly sunset when a reverberating “hal-lo-o-o！”
came from the forest to their left. It was answered； andthree men， mounted upon mules， crashed through thetropic tangle to within a dozen yards of the river’s bank.
There they dismounted； and one， unbuckling his belt，struck each mule a violent blow with his sword scabbard，so that they， with a fling of heels， dashed back again intothe forest.
Those were strange-looking men to be conveying beefand provisions. One was a large and exceedingly activeman， of striking presence. He was of the purest Spanishtype， with curling， gray-besprinkled， dark hair， blue，sparkling eyes， and the pronounced air of a caballerogrande. The other two were small， brown-faced men，wearing white military uniforms， high riding boots andswords. The clothes of all were drenched， bespattered andrent by the thicket. Some stress of circumstance musthave driven them， diable a quatre， through flood， mireand jungle.
“O-he！ Senor Almirante，” called the large man. “Send tous your boat.”
The dory was lowered， and Felipe， with one of theCaribs， rowed toward the left bank.
The large man stood near the water’s brink， waist deepin the curling vines. As he gazed upon the scarecrow figurein the stern of the dory a sprightly interest beamed uponhis mobile face.
Months of wageless and thankless service had dimmedthe admiral’s splendor. His red trousers were patched andragged. Most of the bright buttons and yellow braid weregone from his jacket. The visor of his cap was torn， anddepended almost to his eyes. The admiral’s feet were bare.