“Well, that was the whole battery, wasn’t it?” asked Gordon, “and two huts is plural.  I said houses of the people.  I couldn’t say two houses of the people.  Just you send this as you get it.  You are not an American consul at the present moment.  You are an under-paid agent of a cable company, and you send my stuff as I write it.  The American residents have taken refuge in the consulate—­that’s us,” explained Gordon, “and the English residents have sought refuge in the woods—­that’s the Bradleys.  King Tellaman—­that’s me—­declares his intention of fighting against the annexation.  The forces of the Opekians are under the command of Captain Thomas Bradley—­I guess I might as well make him a colonel—­of Colonel Thomas Bradley, of the English army.

“The American consul says—­Now, what do you say, Stedman?  Hurry up, please,” asked Gordon, “and say something good and strong.”

“You get me all mixed up,” complained Stedman, plaintively.  “Which am I now, a cable operator or the American consul?”

“Consul, of course.  Say something patriotic and about your determination to protect the interests of your government, and all that.”  Gordon bit the end of his pencil impatiently, and waited.

“I won’t do anything of the sort, Gordon,” said Stedman; “you are getting me into an awful lot of trouble, and yourself too.  I won’t say a word.”

“The American consul,” read Gordon, as his pencil wriggled across the paper, “refuses to say anything for publication until he has communicated with the authorities at Washington, but from all I can learn he sympathizes entirely with Tellaman.  Your correspondent has just returned from an audience with King Tellaman, who rules him to inform the American people that the Monroe doctrine will be sustained as long as he rules this island.  I guess that’s enough to begin with,” said Gordon.  “Now send that off quick, and then get away from the instrument before the man in Octavia begins to ask questions.  I am going out to precipitate matters.”

Gordon found the two kings sitting dejectedly side by side, and gazing grimly upon the disorder of the village, from which the people were taking their leave as quickly as they could get their few belongings piled upon the ox-carts.  Gordon walked among them, helping them in every way he could, and tasting, in their subservience and gratitude, the sweets of sovereignty.  When Stedman had locked up the cable office and rejoined him, he bade him tell Messenwah to send three of his youngest men and fastest runners back to the hills to watch for the German vessel and see where she was attempting to land her marines.

“This is a tremendous chance for descriptive writing, Stedman,” said Gordon, enthusiastically; “all this confusion and excitement, and the people leaving their homes, and all that.  It’s like the people getting out of Brussels before Waterloo, and then the scene at the foot of the mountains, while they are camping out there, until the Germans leave.  I never had a chance like this before.”