I also noticed that they wore green in their hats, green being the sign manual of the party that was out—if the government won the fight it was a very simple matter to change this for a red feather or ribbon; thus readily does the average Central American republican adapt his politics to the present need.
That these revolutions were a sort of guerrilla warfare I knew from hearsay—no pitched battles were fought, or rarely, at least; and the party that by stress of circumstances was forced to give ground in the encounter, after a fair trial of strength, accepted the decision philosophically, the leaders ran for the friendly border, the rank and file affiliated with the victors, and peace once more descended for a brief interval on the republic.
But such a thing as continued peace has not as yet been known in these countries, nor was it in Mexico until the firm hand of Diaz seized the wheel of the ship of state.
Let us hope for a Diaz in each republic, whose astute statesmanship and unbending will can force them along the path of progress and crush every threatening evil.
The soldiers holding the citadel were few in number, but they had the gun.
That was what dismayed the enemy, who had never been drilled to face cannon; had it been a Gatling or a pompom, I could not have blamed them, for such destructive weapons might sweep the plaza, and leave winrows of disabled revolutionists there; but a simple brass gun—well, they were away behind the times.
What I wanted now was to find Robbins.
Many of the insurgents looked at me curiously while they skulked behind angles and were ready to drop flat on the ground whenever the big gun roared.
Carmencita had, with her own hands, fastened a green ribbon upon the sombrero I had secured, so that I appeared to be en regle.
Even as I reached the plaza, I saw a brilliant flash of fire from the citadel opposite, then came a thunderous discharge, a rattle of adobe bricks in a building just to the right of me, followed by an angry outburst of shouts.