"When I first came here," continued the captain, "I was poor, and the Brazilian army owed me a whole year's back pay. I had spent much on clothes and on horses, trying hard to live like my father's son. Mr. Tetson offered me better pay, and a gayer uniform. I was willing to play at soldiering, for I saw that some gain might be made from it, outside the pay. My brother officers saw this also, and we talked of it often. Then Miss Tetson came to Pernamba. I rode out with her to show her the country. I told her of my father, and of how, when they carried him in from the field, they found that the Order of Bolivar had been driven edgewise through his tunic and into his breast by the blow of a bullet. And when I saw the look on her face, my pride grew, but changed in some way, and it seemed to me that the son of that man should leave thieving and the crushing of the poor to men of less distinction. "Sometimes my heart was bitter within me, and my fingers itched for the feel of Valentine's throat. But I hope I was always polite, Hemming." He got lightly to his feet, and held out his hand. "Young ladies talk so in convent-schools," he said. "Not at all," replied Hemming, gravely, "and I can assure you that your attitude toward all concerned has left nothing to be desired. I will look you up at your quarters after breakfast." Captain Santosa went through the gardens, humming a Spanish love-song. He turned near a fountain and looked up at a lighted window. His white uniform gleamed in the scented dusk. He kissed his finger-tips to the window. "The end of that dream," he said, lightly, and his eyes were as unfathomable as ever. The water dripped heavily on to the gold of his uniform. Hemming went in search of the President, and found him in the billiard-room, idly knocking the balls about with a rasping cue. "Have a game, like a good chap," urged the great man. The commander-in-chief shook his head. "Not now, sir. I came to tell you something about the army," he replied. He was shocked at Tetson's sudden pallor. The yellow cigar was dropped from nerveless fingers and smeared a white trail of ash across the green cloth. "What do they want?" asked Tetson, in a husky voice. "Oh, they take whatever they want," replied Hemming; "the taxes that are due you, and something besides from the unprotected." Then he retailed the case of the poor woman. When he had finished Tetson did not speak immediately. His benevolent face wore an expression that cut Hemming to the heart. "I must think it over," he said, wearily, "I must think it over." CHAPTER IX. MR. CUDDLEHEAD ARRIVES