Two men stood on the
top step, one in a sombrero, and the other in black coat and tall
hat. The tall hat, by his gestures, was addressing the crowd, but we
couldn't hear him.
"The President and Alvarez," says Madame Bill, very calm. "They
compromise. My Georgio will be hot and dull."
The crowd cried "Vivo" everything except Bill. They wanted him "al
fuego" just the same, which, as you might say, means something like:
"Oh, take him away. Put him somewhere and boil him!" They seemed
distressed with him that way, and I took it Madame Bill was right
that he'd been too lively with his military, and it was up with him.
A band began to play by the hotel.
"My wife is ever right," says Bill, and began feeling toward the
table for the iced wine. "Carambos! It is not with Madame Bill to be
discouraged. No! Bueno! All right, my wife. What did you say?"
Madame Bill said we'd leave him there, which we did, after closing
the shutters. We left him drinking iced wine, eating mangoes, blowing
smoke, and looking like a porpoise in respect to complexion, but
shorter and fatter than a porpoise, and remarkable youthful.
It came on the Monday following and my cargo was shipped.
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