Fitz met him half-way, caught him by the collar, and with his face flushed and eyes flashing, whispered something in his ear. "No!" cried Poole. "You don't mean it!" "I do," said Fitz, and he whispered a few more words that made his companion stare. "Shall we?" cried Fitz excitedly. "Oh, I don't know," replied Poole. "It would make such a scare." "I don't care," said Fitz. "It will make Don Ramon ready to jump out of his skin. I don't know what he won't say when he gets the news; and besides, I feel as if I had a right." Meanwhile the people were beginning to arrive to crowd the _salle_ where the President and the skipper were ready to receive them, and the President had risen at once, and amidst a tremendous burst of applause, to begin a speech in which he intended to congratulate his hearers upon the end of the war and the commencement of what he hoped would be a long term of peace, when he and all present were startled by a terrific roar as of thunder close at hand, followed by what seemed like a minute's silence, when the echoes began to speak, carrying on the sound along the valley and up into the mountains, where it rolled and died out, rose again, and was eddied on and on, to finally fade away in a dull whisper. For the time no one spoke, no one stirred, but stood as if turned to stone, as so many statues where but a few minutes before all was animation and suppressed excitement consequent upon what was looked upon as the successful determination of the revolution. Upon every face horror was now depicted, cheeks were pale, eyes dilated and staring, and fear with all its horrors seemed to have enchained the crowded _salle_. There was one pale face though that seemed to stand out the central figure of the gaily-dressed and uniformed crowd. It was that of the President, who slowly stretched out his hands on high, his fists clenching and his features convulsed. There was no horror there in his looks, but one great reflex of the despair within his heart. "Oh," he groaned, "and at a time like this, when I have fought so hard, when I would have given up my very life for my unhappy country. Gentlemen, we have a new enemy to contend with, and that is Fate. Am I to own that all is lost, or appeal to you, my faithful friends, to begin again to fight the deadly battle to the very last?" "But what is it?" cried one of the officials. "Yes," shouted another, "what does this mean?" The President smiled bitterly, and stood for a few moments gazing back sadly at his questioners as the crowd began to sway to and fro, some of those present beginning to make for the door, but in an undecided way, and swaying back to press once more upon their leader, as if feeling that he was their only hope. He seemed to read this in their faces, and suddenly the blood began to flush like a cloud across his pallid brow, nerving him as it were to action.