After that it was grim, grim, bitter and miserable. We dogs had had
our day. We soldiers of either fortune had tasted our cup of triumph,
and though it was only a taste, it had flown to our brains like heavy
wine, and the headaches and the heartaches followed fast. For some it
was more than a heartache; to them it brought the deep, drugged sleep
of Nirvana.

The storm broke at the moment I turned from Lowell on the steps of the
palace, and it did not cease, for even one brief breathing space,
until we were cast forth, and scattered, and beaten.

As Lowell left me, General Laguerre, with Aiken at his side, came
hurrying down the hall of the palace. The President was walking with
his head bowed, listening to Aiken, who was whispering and
gesticulating vehemently. I had never seen him so greatly excited.
When he caught sight of me he ran forward.

"Here he is," he cried. "Have you heard from Heinze?" he demanded.
"Has he asked you to send him a native regiment to Pecachua?"

"Yes," I answered, "he wanted natives to dig trenches. I sent five
hundred at eight this morning."

Aiken clenched his fingers. It was like the quick, desperate clutch of
a drowning man.

"I'm right," he cried. He turned upon Laguerre. "Macklin has sent
them. By this time our men are prisoners."