Woe to Bolivar since he was loose upon her streets, and woe to the reigning dynasty if Robbins had joined forces with the revolutionary party that waited to overthrow the existing government.
Perhaps Cerberus was not the first man to feel the weight of his displeasure, and I was positive he would not be the last.
“Now for Hildegarde!” I said, enthusiastically, waving my captured gun aloft.
“Yes, I suppose the whole thing has to be done over again,” ventured Robbins.
“Well, if I had one reason for joining you in that other enterprise, where the woman in trouble was utterly unknown, I surely have a thousand now when she is my best beloved, the wife I saved from the sea, whose trust in me has been more than restored, and to rescue whom I’d wade through fire and blood.”
“Bravo!” said Robbins, who always admired in others anything bordering on the theatrical, albeit he was such a practical old chap himself, and could never be made to believe he had done anything great. “Bravo, Morgan! Those sentiments do you honor. And here’s one ready to back you up, though the way be blocked by the whole army.”
“Bah! I’ve subsidized them already—they have accepted my gold and look to fairly swim in champagne when I reach New York. Don’t worry about the army, my boy. There are others,” was what I flung at him.
“Plenty of them—in fact, I think the old army will have its hands full this night, and the green badge they wear turn to a crimson one by the morning,” said this dark conspirator, mysteriously.
I caught his meaning, especially since I knew something about these sudden face-about changes liable to occur any day in the average impulsive young republics of Central America—they are the greatest theatres in the world for remarkable dramatic events.
“It’s a revolution, then,” I remarked.