There was a reception at the Yellow House a few nights later. Pulgar was invited and was present. Guzman soon found an opportunity to engage him in conversation. “I have already found that being President of Venezuela has its objectionable features,” sighed Guzman after they had chatted lightly for a few minutes. “One has to listen to so many ridiculous tales. For instance, I have heard many foolish stories about you, one of them being an alleged threat to kill me the first time you have a chance.” “I don’t know about the others, but I did say that,” replied Pulgar. Guzman shrugged his shoulders, as though wearied. “How often,” he responded, “we say we are going to do things which we may think we will do but which we never do do.” “When I get an opportunity that a gentleman can take advantage of, I intend to kill you, General Guzman,” said Pulgar, still smiling. “Let that be the understanding then,” answered Guzman as he walked away, without displaying the slightest concern. The very next day Guzman sent Pulgar an invitation to come to the palace at three o’clock and go driving with him. Contrary to his custom he ordered that no guards accompany them. They had not gone a quarter of a mile when one of the front wheels came off and both of them were thrown out in a heap. As they disentangled themselves Pulgar drew a revolver but it was not well out of his pocket before Guzman had him covered with his pistol. “Ah, you were prepared for me, I see, General,” said Pulgar. “I am always prepared for friends and enemies alike,” replied Guzman. They put up their weapons and walked back to the palace. “I am sorry our ride was so short,” said Guzman. “It was long enough,” was Pulgar’s reply, “to convert an enemy into a friend.” “In that case it has been truly delightful,” responded Guzman. They shook hands and that was the end of the Pulgar revolution.