city now, and I'll see him for you to-morrow. In the meantime, monseer,
you keep them drafts tight in your inside pocket. I'll call for you
to-morrow, and take you to see him. Say! that ain't the District of
Columbia you're talking about, is it?" concluded Mr. Kelley, with a
sudden qualm. "You can't capture that with no 2,000 guns--it's been
tried with more."

"No, no, no!" exclaimed the General. "It is the Republic of Colombia--it
is a g-r-reat republic on the top side of America of the South. Yes.
Yes."

"All right," said Mr. Kelley, reassured. "Now suppose we trek along home
and go by-by. I'll write to the Secretary to-night and make a date with
him. It's a ticklish job to get guns out of New York. McClusky himself
can't do it."

They parted at the door of the Hotel Espanol. The General rolled his
eyes at the moon and sighed.

"It is a great country, your Nueva York," he said. "Truly the cars in
the streets devastate one, and the engine that cooks the nuts terribly
makes a squeak in the ear. But, ah, Senor Kelley--the senoras with hair
of much goldness, and admirable fatness--they are magnificas! Muy
magnificas!"

Kelley went to the nearest telephone booth and called up McCrary's cafe,
far up on Broadway. He asked for Jimmy Dunn.

"Is that Jimmy Dunn?" asked Kelley.