We took them on deck, and whilst their boat was being brought alongside, and they were waiting for the Governor to come up from the Captain’s cabin, they were awfully keen on the after 9.2 gun. ’Make shoot many kilometres?’ the fat chap asked. ’About thirty,’ I told him, doing a rough calculation in my head, and he told his black pal, and they jerked their thumbs towards the mountains. It didn’t take much brains to guess that they were wondering whether we could shell the city of Santa Cruz itself. They looked at that gun jolly respectfully after that. Later on that day, we learnt a lot about local politics from two English merchants, who came off to call and feel English ’ground’—as they expressed it—under their feet again. They looked jolly cool in their white clothes and pith sun-helmets. ’It’s a mighty change from a week ago,’ they said. ’All the Europeans and Americans here at Los Angelos and up in Santa Cruz were practically prisoners, some had actually been thrown into San Sebastian—the old fort of Santa Cruz—and we were all expecting notice to quit the country, when they heard that you were coming along, apologised to the chaps in San Sebastian, and let the rest of us along. We’re glad to see you, you bet we are, for there’s trouble coming.’ ’What? Where?’ we asked, frightfully keen to know, all the mids. crowding round and keeping as silent as mice. ’Revolution! that’s what’s coming. It’s as certain as we’re sitting here. Old Canilla, the President, is hated everywhere, except in his own province of Santa Cruz and the city itself. The country will revolt directly the Vice-President—de Costa—gives the word. It’s been coming for years, but Mrs. President, the old lady who’s to be buried to-morrow, was the Vice-President’s sister, and, though they hate each other like poison, she kept the peace between her husband and her brother. ’Every one called her _La Buena Presidente_, and now she’s gone’—they shrugged their shoulders—’we don’t know what will happen. The very day _La Buena Presidente_, poor old lady, died, General Angostina was shot in the back—he was the most popular general in the country and backed the de Costas—and no attempt has been made to arrest his assassins, who boast about it at the Military Club. In fact, the paper this morning says that one has been promoted for "services to his country."’ ’_La Buena Presidente_?’ the A.P. sang out; ’that’s the name of the new cruiser building for them at Newcastle.’