On board the "Barcelona," freed from the problem of keeping the Isthmians within the Colombian Union, General Herran gave no evidence of any disastrous effect on his own fortunes following his memorable experience of Panama diplomacy. The center of a convivial group of admiring friends, flanked by an inexhaustible supply of "La Cosa Sabrosa,"--the suggestive title given by one enthusiast to the native rum which accompanied them in an endless array of demijohns--this excellent leader of armies appeared to be making a triumphal progress homeward, rather than a decidedly ignominious retreat. His large mirthful brown eyes, peering out of a boyish face fringed by a heavy black beard, were undimmed by regrets and gave no token of the wily, self-seeking politician their possessor was said, by his enemies, to be. "El General," as he was usually called, was, in fact, the best of good fellows; one who, we can well imagine, might easily forget so paltry an adjunct as his troops, lured by the promise of a lively hour or so in a gay city with congenial companions. "Bobo" his detractors might call him, or "tonto"--but never "pendejo" nor "traidor." With General Herran on board the "Barcelona," although not exactly of his party, and certainly not in the least of the military persuasion, was a round-paunched, bullet-headed little man who, arrayed in the flimsiest of apparel, a wide-flapping Panama sombrero coming down to his ears, paced restlessly about the deck, fanning himself vigorously with a huge palm-leaf fan. Although of pure Spanish lineage, there was nothing of the traditional polish of his race in this explosive person's manner or speech. He had rolled about--one can hardly describe his mode of travel by another phrase--among many people and had recently settled down in a delightfully fever-ridden section of Colombia to practice medicine. "Doctor Quinine" he was called--behind his back--and it is said that he had simplified the methods of his profession by administering, on all occasions and for all diseases, the one simple, famous drug, discovered centuries ago by his ancestors in his native Peru. Quinine and a few drastic purgatives summed up his medical creed. If these remedies failed to cure--and they sometimes did fail--why, the unfortunate victim was simply a "canaille," and had, through his own stupidity, or malice, defeated the otherwise infallible result of the doctor's treatment.