THE BAMBOULA
In the morning Dessalines rode down the mountain to confer at greater length with General Miragoâne. The voluptuary chuckled as he greeted him.
"And La Fouchère?" he questioned. "Was she glad to see you, Aristide, camarade? Can you not manage to get rid of that peacock, her husband! Oh, m'cher! oh, oh!"
Miragoâne detested Dr. Fouchère whom he regarded with a secret awe but thought proud and un-Haytian. Fouchère spoke of Miragoâne as "ce paysan Miragoâne."
"Mon Général," replied Dessalines reprovingly, "it is the time for war, not women."
"Oh,—oh,—you are right, m'cher!" exclaimed the general, accepting the reproof good-naturedly from Dessalines of whom he was sincerely fond; the two promptly became involved in strategy.
Dessalines lunched with his general; later in the afternoon he mounted his great horse and rode slowly up the mountain. Half way to La Coupe he met Fouchère who was riding down in haste.
"Holà, Aristide!" called the latter, drawing rein so sharply that his pony slid for several feet upon his haunches. "Myself, I am for Port au Prince. News comes that there is prospect of fighting at Petit Goâve between the Fouchardists and the Firminists! Peste, this accursed turbulence! I have houses in Petit Goâve and some fool is sure to set them ablaze."
"But you are not going there?" cried Dessalines.
"No; I go to demand protection for my property from the Provisional Government. It can do no good, but may serve to reimburse me in the event of any
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