The battle was going against him. The commander-in-chief, himself ruler of the South American republic, sent an aide to the rear, ordering General Blanco to bring up his regiment at once. Ten minutes passed; but it didn’t come. Twenty, thirty, and an hour—still no regiment. The aide came tearing back hatless, breathless.
“My regiment! My regiment! Where is it? Where is it?” shrieked the commander.
“General,” answered the excited aide, “Blanco started it all right, but there are a couple of drunken Americans down the road and they won’t let it go by.”
