exhibition of your art. If you care to look at our bull-ring in Canalejos, you will find it in the eastern part of our city.” He pointed in the direction and apparently brushed the bullfighter away, for Lubito bowed with the muscular suppleness of his calling and took himself off in the direction indicated.
At that moment the general observed the peon on the black horse, who as yet had not dared to present himself at the sentry-box before the caballeros.
“What are you doing on that horse, bribont” asked the general.
“I was waiting to enter, your Excellency,” explained the fellow, hurriedly.
“Your name?”
“Guillermo Fando, your Excellency.”
“Is that your horse?”
“Sí, your Excellency.”
“Take it to my cavalry barracks and deliver it to Coronel Saturnino. A donkey will serve your purpose.”
Fando's mouth dropped open. He stared at the President.
“T-take my caballo to the… the cavalry…”
A little flicker came into the black eyes of the dictator. He said in a somewhat lower tone:
“Is it possible, Fando, that you do not understand Spanish? Perhaps a little season in La Fortuna…”
The peon's face went mud-colored. “P-pardon, su excellenciat” he stuttered, and the next moment thrust his heels into the black's side and went clattering up the narrow calle, filling the drowsy afternoon with clamor.
The general watched him disappear, and then turned to Strawbridge.
“Caramba! the devil himself must be getting into these peons! Speaking to me after I had instructed him!”
The completely proprietary air of the general camouflaged under a semblance of military discipline the taking of the
