Page 435 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

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 compa-
nies, 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 Montero
had only to appear to be master of the situation. This il-
lusion 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 enthusias-
tic, and from the natural pleasure he had in dissembling, he
dropped the reins on his horse’s neck, and with a tremen-
dous effect of familiarity and confidence slipped his hands
under the arms of Senores 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 whom
the ragged Nationals were pushing back fiercely. Ascend-
ing a few steps he surveyed the large crowd gaping at him.

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard