"Give me time to shave," said Hemming, "and then—"
"And then?" asked the colonel.
"Why, and then," repeated Hemming, "tell the little beasts not to be restrained any longer. As for the money—you may go to the devil for that."
The colonel sighed, and mopped his neck with his wilted handkerchief.
"It is too warm to fight," he said.
"You will find it so," retorted the Englishman.
The colonel looked up helplessly.
"My army," he sighed, "how can I restrain it? I hate to fight, and my head aches. But my army must have some money."
"I don't see my way to help you," said Hemming.
"The revolution is a failure unless you surrender and pay," cried the colonel. "Don't you understand, my dear Hemming? I do not like bloodshed, but—well, you have ruined our gentler plan."