CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE HAND OF THE WIZARD.
Another kaleidoscopic change had occurred in my fortunes. I think I had been president almost three hours, which was quite enough; some men have not enjoyed the luxury even that long.
And, singular to relate, my first feeling upon hearing the news of the ex-secretary of war was something in the line of keen pleasure.
I was relieved of a load—so poor Sindbad the Sailor must have felt when he finally shook off the Old Man of the Sea from his shoulders.
Yes, and in that exceedingly brief space of time, which the hustling Robbins allowed me in order, as he thought, that I might swallow the keen regret and chagrin that a deposed president should by right experience—in that breathing spell, would you believe it, I had a very distinct and very attractive vision of a jaunty English steam yacht plowing the blue waters of the Mediterranean, with storied Algiers in sight, the uniformed captain being Robbins himself, while the passengers consisted solely of two persons, myself and Hildegarde.
Which must have been conclusive evidence as to the lightness with which I held my receding presidential glory.
Republics might come, and republics might go, and it was very little I cared so long as they left me Hildegarde.
So constituted is man that for the sake of a woman he often counts the world well lost.
Robbins considered that I had had enough time to recover from his staggering blow.
So he began to speak again.
“Are you all right, governor?”
“Splendid,” which was really far from the truth because lack of sleep told upon me.
“Good! Thought you weren’t the man to sit down and cry over spilled milk.”
“Bosh!” I said; “glad the old farce has come to an end. Rather be an American citizen any day than the uncrowned king of this hot region.”
“Well, then to business. We must get out.”
“Why is that necessary? I’ll gladly resign in favor of Toreado, bless his fat old heart! No reason we shouldn’t be friends.”
“I tell you he won’t have it. Jealous of your popularity, I reckon, or else hand in glove with your charming dad-in-law, and sees a chance to make a pile. Anyhow, he’s gathering his men to march here and throw us all in prison.”
“What! more dungeons, moretortillas,frijolesand water! That settles it. Robbins, I’ll do whatever you say. Have you a balloon handy?” I asked in a humorous vein.
“No, but I’ve made sure to have horses ready,” was the quick response.
I was staggered.
It was simply astounding the way in which this wonderful man anticipated things. Here he had been secretary of war less than three hours, yet in that period of triumph, when the ordinary person would have been heedlessly celebrating, my comrade took time by the forelock, and made ready for flight.
Really, those hot-headed people never knew what a treasure they let slip through their grasp when Robbins was turned adrift; in less than a year I believe the country would have emerged from its swaddling clothes and made to assume a position among second-class nations.
Their loss was my gain, however.
“Horses? Then it’s over the mountains to Jalapa?” I said, quickly.
“Exactly. Tell your wife and the little one.”
Thus suddenly had the thunderbolt fallen, but fortunately I had plenty of reserve nervous energy to meet the new crisis.
When I went to the other room I found Hildegarde sitting up; she had heard voices in the front chamber, and, knowing that this was hardly the appropriate hour for a cabinet meeting, had begun to be curious, as well as to worry.
“What is it, Morgan?” she asked.
“Sam has been shorn of his locks—I am a back number. It seems old Toreado was not dead, after all, so they rallied to him, and I’m no longer the exalted president.”
“Oh! I’m so glad,” was what she said, embracing me.
“Are you? That’s good. You are no happier over it than I am, for now we can take that cruise to Egypt—if we ever get out of here safely.”
“Morgan, is there danger?” she said, standing up.
“It would be folly to deny it. Robbins says they are soon coming, inflamed by the sly oldpadresand Toreado’s jealousy of me—coming to put me in that dungeon again and feed me on—— Bah! it makes me tired to even think of it; and consequently I’m afraid we must get out of Bolivar in a hurry.”
“Don’t worry about me—I’m ready to go anywhere with you, Morgan.”
Of course, I kissed her—who wouldn’t?
“You are a good rider, darling?”
“Yes; is it to be on horses, then?”
“So Robbins says, to Jalapa over the mountains. That wonderful man has everything ready. He’s a perfect marvel to me. But time is valuable. Wake the girl, and we will start.”
It was awfully sudden; she had gone to sleep the wife of a president, to dream perchance of marble halls and grand palaces; then to awaken to the fact that she was plain Mrs. Kenneth, and must make a wild fight over a mountainous country, to save her wretched husband from a daily diet of miserable fare, was quite enough to unnerve the best of them.
But Hildegarde, bless her! was a thoroughbred.
It was quickly done.
Carmencita proved game enough, and ready to accept of anything rather than be parted from the only being on earth she loved.
“All ready,” I announced to Robbins, as we fled into the other room.
He was looking a bit anxious as he stood by the door listening to the confused jumble of shouts over near the cathedral; at our coming I thought I saw him hustle something bright and steel-like into his pocket, and could easily guess he had feared there would speedily be use for it unless we made haste.
“We’ve just got time. Sorry to have our castle tumbled down so suddenly, madam, but it is always an honor to be the wife of even an ex-president. There they come, by the church. This way, down thecalle. A miss is as good as a mile, I reckon. There’ll be some mad hornets about here, presently.”
“Do you think they’ll try to chase us?” I asked, in a low voice, as we hurried away.
“Well, nothing surprises me nowadays, and in this beastly country. That old man—begging the lady’s pardon for referring to her dad—is hardly the one to let a good thing slip out of his hands for lack of a few horses, and goldenouzasto hire trackers. But we’ll give ’em the slip, see if we don’t?” was his reply.
“I’m afraid it is true—he is very determined. Why, it was his threat to injure you, Morgan, that made me obey him,” said Hildegarde, clinging to my arm closely.
“Why, I don’t believe the old villain had the remotest idea where upon the face of the earth such an individual as myself could be found, or that he was in any position to hurt me.”
“I think the same way now, but at the time he told such a plausible story I was forced to believe he had it in his power to injure you. Yes, I fear he will never give up the pursuit while he has life.”
There was no time to say more, but secretly I expressed a fervent wish that something might speedily befall the vindictive old schemer, whom I positively believed to be a fraud, yet whom my wife had accepted as her worthless parent.
The approaching party streamed down thecalle; I could see the shovel hats in the van, and smiled to think how easily the affair had been won by them in the first round.
Little I cared—the game was not worth the candle to me; my honors had been unsought, and were relinquished without regret.
Luckily, they did not appear in time to discover the little group that hurried out of the other end of the narrowcalle—perhaps they could not dream that the president of three hours would think of such a thing as flight, and expected him to be sound asleep, as he might havebeen, but for that remarkable secretary of war, who could sniff battle in the very air.
We made several turnings.
“Hark!” exclaimed Robbins, with a laugh.
Surely, those were angry shouts; the mob had discovered the empty nest, and some of the inmates of neighboring houses might give them points as to the direction we had taken.
“It doesn’t matter—here are the horses,” said our magician, simply.
He led them out of a shed.
I had to rub my eyes, for I feared this was all a dream—feared that I was a boy again; reading the “Arabian Nights,” and that when I awoke, gone would be the splendid steeds, my gallant comrade in arms, the fair lady, and all.
But it was real—the horses curveted and whinnied their delight, and I wondered how Robbins had managed to secure such splendid mounts, forgetting that as secretary of war he had the power to requisition anything he desired, that would be for the public weal.
And only three hours in office—think what he might not have done in a month—a year!
Wretched Bolivar! But, then, some people never know when they are well off.
Two of the horses had side saddles—I had no idea there was such a thing in Bolivar, but he had ferreted them out; nothing seemed to escape his scent when on the track.
Hildegarde had always been a fine horsewoman, and Carmencita would take to the exercise with the readiness ever shown by confident youth.
We were all quickly mounted, and Robbins led the way; perhaps many an ex-president had quitted Bolivar in thesame fashion; but we were only too thankful to shake the dust of the tropical metropolis from our shoes.