The signorina stopped.

"Do you mean me, Colonel McGregor?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, "and that fool Martin, too."

"Even in times of revolution, colonel," said I, "nothing is lost by
politeness. But in substance you are right. Let us be sober."

We sat down again, panting, the signorina between her gasps still
faintly humming the psalm of liberty.

"Kindly unfold your plan, colonel," I resumed. "I am aware that out
here you think little of revolutions, but to a newcomer they appear to
be matters requiring some management. You see we are only three."

"I have the army with me," said he grandly.

"In the outer office?" asked I, indulging in a sneer at the dimensions
of the Aureataland forces.

"Look here, Martin," he said, scowling, "if you're coming in with us,
keep your jokes to yourself."

"Don't quarrel, gentlemen," said the signorina. "It's waste of time.
Tell him the plan, colonel, while I'm getting cool."

I saw the wisdom of this advice, so I said:

"Your pardon, colonel. But won't this repudiation be popular with the