Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard
perity. This is what he meant literally. Now his brother was master of the country, whether as President, Dictator, or even as Emperor—why not as an Emperor?—he meant to demand a share in every enterprise in railways, in mines, in sugar estates, in cotton-mills, in land companies, in each and every undertaking as the price of his protection. The desire to be on the spot early was the real cause of the celebrated ride over the mountains with some two hundred Llaneros, an enterprise of which the dangers had not appeared at first clearly to his impatience. Coming from a series of victories, it seemed to him that a Montcro had only to appear to be master of the situation. This illusion had betrayed him into a rashness of which he was becoming aware. As he rode at the head of his Llaneros he regretted that there were so few of them. The enthusiasm of the populace reassured him. They yelled "Viva Montero!" "Viva Pedrito!" In order to make them still more enthusiastic, and from the natural pleasure he had in dissembling, he dropped the reins on his horse's neck, and with a tremendous effect of familiarity and confidence slipped his hands under the arms of Señores Fuentes and Gamacho. In that posture, with a ragged town mozo holding his horse by the bridle, he rode triumphantly across the Plaza to the door of the Intendencia. Its old, gloomy walls seemed to shake in the acclamations that rent the air and covered the crashing peals of the cathedral bells.
Pedro Montero, the brother of the general, dismounted into a shouting and perspiring throng of enthusiasts m whom the ragged Nationals were pushing back fiercely. Ascending a few steps, he surveyed the large crowd
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