From the Plaza de los Hombres Ilustres the crowd rolled down the steep of the Calle Otumba, passed into the Calle Mayor, and in a few minutes the city was vomiting hundreds of infuriated men out of her gates on to the beach and wharf. Far away on the azure sea lay the vast bulk of _The Pizarro_, with the flag of the Republic floating at her main-mast, in conjunction with the white pennant of peace. The crowd held their breath, and throughout the vast assemblage there was not a sound. The waves lapping on the beach could alone be heard, and each man in that mighty congregation held his breath. "One gun for 'yes!' Two guns for 'no!'" muttered Jack, in Tim's ear. At that instant a puff of smoke broke from an embrasure of the rear fort, and a gun thundered out its defiance to Xuarez. In another minute, before the echo of the first died away, a second gun from the other fort roared out in the still air, and there was an answering roar from the crowd below. The flag of peace! the flag of the opal were suddenly lowered from the mast of _The Pizarro_, and up went a fierce red banner, foretelling war and disaster. The mob yelled with rage, the guns of _The Pizarro_ sent forth an insolent defiance, and in a few minutes, with the smoke pouring black and thick from her funnels, the great vessel stood out to sea. The War of Cholacaca had commenced. CHAPTER XI. THE DRAMA OF LITTLE THINGS. Many things happen! They are the daily events of our lives, we note them with idle indifference. The lover kisses his dear one, she sighs on his throbbing bosom, He springs on his waiting horse, and waving his hand at parting, Thinks that the morrow for certain, will bring her again to his kisses, Alas! he knows not that Fate is capricious! That never again will the dear one respond to his welcome caresses! "Good-bye for an hour!" ah, sorrow. That good-bye means "farewell for ever." And yet they know not this future, and so, parting happy, Go east and west gladly, to anguish apart till they perish. "Quiere a fumar, Juan," said Dolores, holding out a small case to Jack, with a coquettish smile. "Campeacheanos!" replied her lover, selecting one carefully, "these are for men only. I hope you don't smoke these, mi cara." "No! I but use cigarros de papel. This case belongs to my cousin, Don Rafael. Now it is yours." "What will Don Rafael say?" "Say! Why, nothing, of course. He made me a present of the campeacheanos." "Oh, did he?" exclaimed Jack, suspiciously. "You seem to be fond of your cousin, Dolores!" "Naturally! It is my duty," replied Dolores, demurely, and dropped her eyes. "Oh!" said Duval, briefly, and busied himself in lighting a cigarette.