On election day the soldiers at Guatira, Guarenas, and Petare, surrounding towns which I visited from Caracas to get a close view of the unique proceeding, doffed their uniforms and donned blouses, with their revolvers strapped on underneath, marched to the polls and voted as often as was required. Other towns throughout the country witnessed the same performance. The peons also voted for Andrade, either because they knew Crespo wanted them to or because the soldiers so instructed them, and they kept at it until the designated number of votes had been deposited. For a popular election it was the weirdest thing that could be imagined, yet it was so proclaimed. As though to disprove this boast it was immediately followed by mutterings of discontent from the better class of citizens, and on the night of Andrade’s inauguration General Hernandez, the famed “El Mocho,” who was Minister of Public Improvements in Crespo’s Cabinet but an opponent of the new President, took to the hills at the head of three thousand troops and raised the standard of revolt. Crespo really was responsible for the curse of Castro, for had he selected a strong man as his successor the mountain brigand never could have commanded a force sufficiently powerful to overthrow him. Within a month Andrade went through the form of appointing Crespo Commander-in-Chief of the Army, in order that he might clinch his dictatorship. For a while Crespo contented himself with enjoying his new title and directing operations from the capital, but the Hernandez revolution finally assumed such proportions that he took the field in person to stamp it out. The two armies met in the mountains near Victoria on June 12, 1898. Hernandez was led into a trap, given a drubbing, and captured. After the battle Crespo walked across the field and was leaning over a wounded man when he was shot from behind and instantly killed. It was claimed that the shot was fired from the bush by one of the escaped rebels, and it was so reported, but no one who was at all on the inside accepted this explanation. The bullet that killed Crespo was of a peculiar pattern and exactly fitted the pistol of one of his own officers, who was not a Venezuelano. I doubt if there was another weapon exactly like it in the whole country. The responsibility for the murder, for such it undoubtedly was, could easily have been fixed, but the cowardly Andrade refused to order a real investigation and, of course, there was no prosecution. Crespo’s body was packed in a barrel of rum and brought to Caracas for burial.