``You'll proclaim yourself an idiot, if you don't get down from there,'' Clay said, laughing.``I thank you for permitting me to serve with you, gentlemen.I shall have great pleasure in telling our President how well you acquitted yourself in this row--battle, I mean.And now I would suggest that you store the prisoners' weapons in the Palace and put a guard over them, and then conduct the men themselves to the military prison, where you can release General Rojas and escort him back to the city in a triumphal procession.You'd like that, wouldn't you?''
But the natives protested that that honor was for him alone.
Clay declined it, pleading that he must look after his wounded.
``I can hardly believe there are any dead,'' he said to Kirkland.
``For, if it takes two thousand bullets to kill a man in European warfare, it must require about two hundred thousand to kill a man in South America.''
He told Kirkland to march his men back to the mines and to see that there were no stragglers.``If they want to celebrate, let them celebrate when they get to the mines, but not here.They have made a good record to-day and I won't have it spoiled by rioting.They shall have their reward later.Between Rojas and Mr.Langham they should all be rich men.''
The cheering from the housetops since the firing ceased had changed suddenly into hand-clappings, and the cries, though still undistinguishable, were of a different sound.Clay saw that the Americans on the balconies of the club and of the theatre had thrown themselves far over the railings and were all looking in the same direction and waving their hats and cheering loudly, and he heard above the shouts of the people the regular tramp of men's feet marching in step, and the rattle of a machine gun as it bumped and shook over the rough stones.He gave a shout of pleasure, and Kirkland and the two boys ran with him up the slope, crowding each other to get a better view.The mob parted at the Palace gates, and they saw two lines of blue-jackets, spread out like the sticks of a fan, dragging the gun between them, the middies in their tight-buttoned tunics and gaiters, and behind them more blue-jackets with bare, bronzed throats, and with the swagger and roll of the sea in their legs and shoulders.An American flag floated above the white helmets of the marines.Its presence and the sense of pride which the sight of these men from home awoke in them made the fight just over seem mean and petty, and they took off their hats and cheered with the others.
A first lieutenant, who felt his importance and also a sense of disappointment at having arrived too late to see the fighting, left his men at the gate of the Palace, and advanced up the terrace, stopping to ask for information as he came.Each group to which he addressed himself pointed to Clay.The sight of his own flag had reminded Clay that the banner of Mendoza still hung from the mast beside which he was standing, and as the officer approached he was busily engaged in untwisting its halyards and pulling it down.
The lieutenant saluted him doubtfully.
``Can you tell me who is in command here?'' he asked.He spoke somewhat sharply, for Clay was not a military looking personage, covered as he was with dust and perspiration, and with his sombrero on the back of his head.
``Our Consul here told us at the landing-place,'' continued the lieutenant in an aggrieved tone, ``that a General Mendoza was in power, and that I had better report to him, and then ten minutes later I hear that he is dead and that a General Rojas is President, but that a man named Clay has made himself Dictator.
My instructions are to recognize no belligerents, but to report to the Government party.Now, who is the Government party?''
Clay brought the red-barred flag down with a jerk, and ripped it free from the halyards.Kirkland and the two boys were watching him with amused smiles.
``I appreciate your difficulty,'' he said.``President Alvarez is dead, and General Mendoza, who tried to make himself Dictator, is also dead, and the real President, General Rojas, is still in jail.So at present I suppose that I represent the Government party, at least I am the man named Clay.It hadn't occurred to me before, but, until Rojas is free, I guess I am the Dictator of Olancho.Is Madame Alvarez on board your ship?''
``Yes, she is with us,'' the officer replied, in some confusion.
``Excuse me--are you the three gentlemen who took her to the yacht? I am afraid I spoke rather hastily just now, but you are not in uniform, and the Government seems to change so quickly down here that a stranger finds it hard to keep up with it.''