from the other, the
engineer-in-chief's only anxiety now was to avoid a collision with either.
Sulaco, for him, was a railway station, a terminus, workshops, a great
accumulation of stores. As against the mob the railway defended its property,
but politically the railway was neutral. He was a brave man; and in that spirit
of neutrality he had carried proposals of truce to the self-appointed chiefs of
the popular party, the deputies Fuentes and Gamacho. Bullets were still flying
about when he had crossed the Plaza on that mission, waving above his head a
white napkin belonging to the table linen of the Amarilla Club.
    He was rather proud of this exploit; and reflecting that the doctor, busy
all day with the wounded in the patio of the Casa Gould, had not had time to
hear the news, he began a succinct narrative. He had communicated to them the
intelligence from the Construction Camp as to Pedro Montero. The brother of the
victorious general, he had assured them, could be expected at Sulaco at any time
now. This news (as he anticipated), when shouted out of the window by Señor
Gamacho, induced a rush of the mob along the Campo Road towards Rincon. The two
deputies also, after shaking hands with him effusively, mounted and galloped off
to meet the great man. »I have misled them a little as to the time,« the chief
engineer confessed. »However hard he rides, he can scarcely get here before the
morning. But my object is attained. I've secured several hours' peace for the
losing party. But I did not tell them anything about Sotillo, for fear they
would take it into their heads to try to get hold of the harbour again, either
to oppose him or welcome him - there's no saying which. There was Gould's
silver, on which rests the remnant of our hopes. Decoud's retreat had to be
thought of, too. I think the railway has done pretty well by its friends without
compromising itself hopelessly. Now the parties must be left to themselves.«
    »Costaguana for the Costaguaneros,« interjected the doctor, sardonically.
»It is a fine country, and they have raised a fine crop of hates, vengeance,
murder, and rapine - those sons of the country.«
    »Well, I am one of them,« Charles Gould's voice sounded, calmly, »and I must
be going on to see to my own crop of trouble. My wife has driven straight on,
doctor?