“‘We’re boosting General Rompiro, of course,’ says Denver.  ’We’re going to put him in the presidential chair.  I’m his manager.’

“‘Well,’ says Hicks, ’if I was you I’d be a little slower about it.  You’ve got a long time ahead of you, you know.’

“‘Not any longer than I need,’ says Denver.

“Denver went ahead and worked things smooth.  He dealt out money on the quiet to his lieutenants, and they were always coming after it.  There was free drinks for everybody in town, and bands playing every night, and fireworks, and there was a lot of heelers going around buying up votes day and night for the new style of politics in Espiritu, and everybody liked it.

“The day set for the election was November 4th.  On the night before Denver and me were smoking our pipes in headquarters, and in comes Hicks and unjoints himself, and sits in a chair, mournful.  Denver is cheerful and confident.  ‘Rompiro will win in a romp,’ says he.  ’We’ll carry the country by 10,000.  It’s all over but the vivas.  To-morrow will tell the tale.’

“‘What’s going to happen to-morrow?’ asks Hicks.

“‘Why, the presidential election, of course,’ says Denver.

“‘Say,’ says Hicks, looking kind of funny, ’didn’t anybody tell you fellows that the election was held a week before you came?  Congress changed the date to July 27th.  Roadrickeys was elected by 17,000.  I thought you was booming old Rompiro for next term, two years from now.  Wondered if you was going to keep up such a hot lick that long.’

“I dropped my pipe on the floor.  Denver bit the stem off of his.  Neither of us said anything.

“And then I heard a sound like somebody ripping a clapboard off of a barn-roof.  ’Twas Hicks laughing for the first time in eight years.”

Sully Magoon paused while the waiter poured us a black coffee.

“Your friend was, indeed, something of a manager,” I said.

“Wait a minute,” said Sully, “I haven’t given you any idea of what he could do yet.  That’s all to come.

“When we got back to New York there was General Rompiro waiting for us on the pier.  He was dancing like a cinnamon bear, all impatient for the news, for Denver had just cabled him when we would arrive and nothing more.

“‘Am I elect?’ he shouts.  ’Am I elect, friend of mine?  Is that mine country have demand General Rompiro for the president?  The last dollar of mine have I sent you that last time.  It is necessario that I am elect.  I have not more money.  Am I elect, Senor Galloway?’

“Denver turns to me.

“‘Leave me with old Rompey, Sully,’ he says.  ’I’ve got to break it to him gently.  ’Twould be indecent for other eyes to witness the operation.  This is the time, Sully,’ says he, ’when old Denver has got to make good as a jollier and a silver-tongued sorcerer, or else give up all the medals he’s earned.’

“A couple of days later I went around to the hotel.  There was Denver in his old place, looking like the hero of two historical novels, and telling ’em what a fine time he’d had down on his orange plantation in Florida.