“What will the thing cost altogether?” Adam asked.

He looked thoughtful when Alvarez told him, and then nodded.  “All right.  You’ll get some of the guns to-morrow and another lot is on the way.  Go ahead; I’ll help you put the business over.”

Alvarez filled the little glasses with a liquor that had a strong spicy smell and when his guests lifted them touched theirs with his.

“It is what I had hoped, my friend.  If I live, you will not lose.”

He drank and then held his glass slackly poised while he mused.  Kit, who was nearest the arch, turned and glanced out.  He saw the reflected light quiver across the trampled sand and the dusty green of the limp palmettos.  Then, below the latter, there was a pale-yellow flash and the president’s glass fell with a tinkle.  A pistol-shot rang out and Kit, swinging round, saw that a flake of plaster had dropped on the table.  There was some dust on Alvarez’ brown face and on his clothes, but he looked unmoved.

Next moment Adam leaned on the table, steadying a heavy automatic pistol, and three quick flashes streamed from the perking barrel.  Three small puffs of dust leaped up about the roots of a palmetto and as the empty cartridges rattled on the floor Kit thought an indistinct figure stole through the shadow of the fan-shaped leaves.  He was not certain, because the light was dazzling and thin smoke drifted about his head.

He threw his chair back and plunging through the arch ran across the sand and stopped at the top of a narrow street.  Men and women of different shades of color came out of the doors and began to talk excitedly, but there was nobody who looked like a fugitive.  Kit went back after he got his breath and met two or three untidy, barefooted soldiers who ran past.  When he entered the arch Adam was coolly reloading his pistol while the president dusted his clothes.

“It is nothing—­they have tried again,” the latter remarked.  “Still, it looks as if Galdar felt himself stronger than I thought.  Now, with your permission, I will go and give some orders.”  He smiled as he added:  “There will be some prisoners by and by, men my guards do not like, but the fellow who fired the shot will not be caught.”

“What about the sentry?” Adam asked.

Alvarez shrugged.  “It is hot, and perhaps he was half asleep.  I think the man is faithful, and just now I am the soldier’s friend.”

He went off and Adam filled his glass and looked at Kit.  “I feel I’m getting old and want another drink.  I got the bead on the fellow’s dark head and missed him by a yard.  Well, I guess you can’t expect to have steady fingers when you’ve got malarial ague.  It’s a dramatic kind of country, anyhow.”