Aiken gave a sudden start of surprise, and I saw his eyelids drop and rise again. Later when I grew to know him intimately, I could always tell when he was lying, or making the winning move in some bit of knavery, by that nervous trick of the eyelids. He knew that I knew about it, and he once confided to me that, had he been able to overcome it, he would have saved himself some thousands of dollars which it had cost him at cards. But except for this drooping of the eyelids he gave no sign. “No, I won’t cry ‘Long live the government,’” he answered. “That is,” he added hastily, “I won’t cry long live anything. I’m the American Consul, and I’m up here on business. So’s my friend.” The man did not move his gun by so much as a straw’s breadth. “You will cry ‘Long live Alvarez’ or I will shoot you,” said the man. I had more leisure to observe the man than had Aiken, for it is difficult to study the features of anyone when he is looking at you down a gun-barrel, and it seemed to me that the muscles of the man’s mouth as he pressed it against the stock were twitching with a smile. As the side of his face toward me was the one farther from the gun, I was able to see this, but Aiken could not, and he answered, still more angrily: “I tell you, I’m the American Consul. Anyway, it’s not going to do you any good to shoot me. You take me to your colonel alive, and I’ll give you two hundred dollars. You shoot me and you won’t get a cent.” The moment was serious enough, and I was thoroughly concerned both for Aiken and myself, but when he made this offer, my nervousness, or my sense of humor, got the upper hand of me, and I laughed. Having laughed I made the best of it, and said: “Offer him five hundred for the two of us. Hang the expense.” The rifle wavered in the man’s hands, he steadied it, scowled at me, bit his lips, and then burst into shouts of laughter. He sank back against one of the rocks, and pointed at Aiken mockingly. “I knew it was you all the time,” he cried, “for certain I did. I knew it was you all the time.” I was greatly relieved, but naturally deeply indignant. I felt as though someone had jumped from behind a door, and shouted “Boo!” at me. I hoped in my heart that the colonel would give the fellow eight hours’ pack drill. “What a remarkable sentry,” I said. Aiken shoved his hands into his breeches pockets, and surveyed the man with an expression of the most violent disgust. “You’ve got a damned queer idea of a joke,” he said finally. “I might have shot you!” The man seemed to consider this the very acme of humor, for he fairly hooted at us. He was so much amused that it was some moments before he could control himself. “I saw you at Porto Cortez,” he said, “I knew you was the American Consul all the time. You came to our camp after the fight, and the General gave you a long talk in his tent. Don’t you remember me? I was standing guard outside.” Aiken snorted indignantly.