“What does that mean?” asked Carlo.
“The call to arms, general. It means that the old régime is at an end in Chihuahua. Viva Valdez.”
“Not without a struggle,” cried the general, rushing out of the room.
O’Halloran laughed. “I’m afraid he will not be able to give the countersign to Garcia. In the meantime, excellency, pending his return, I would suggest that you notify Colonel Gabilonda to turn over the prison to us without resistance.”
“You hear your new dictator, colonel,” said Megales.
“Pardon me, your excellency, but a written order—”
“Would relieve you of responsibility. So it would. I write once more.”
He was interrupted as he wrote by a great shout from the plaza. “Viva Valdez!” came clearly across the night air, and presently another that stole the color from the cheek of Megales.
“Death to the tyrant! Death to Megales!” repeated the governor, after the shouts reached them. “I fear, Señor Dictator, that your pledge to see me across the frontier will not avail against that mad-dog mob.” He smiled, waving an airy hand toward the window.
The Irishman set his bulldog jaw. “I’ll get you out safely or, begad! I’ll go down fighting with you.”