“Steady,” is the response, in low tones.
“Good.”
“Remember the letter,” admonishes Navarro, and as Ashley nods and steps back the duelists signal that they are ready.
A minute later two shots startle into flight a flock of sea gulls that have been hovering along the shore.
With the echoes Capt. Huerta staggers and is immediately taken in charge by the watchful Cardena and the medico.
“Not scratched, eh?” Ashley inquires of Navarro.
“No; but the lead passed close enough for comfort. Unless my aim was poor, Huerta is not seriously hurt. To have killed him would have been to invite serious entanglement.”
Nor is the Spanish captain in any immediate danger of parting with existence. The bullet has plowed through the right shoulder, causing a ragged wound and a great flow of blood, but a few days will put him on his feet again, the surgeon reports to Cardena. Wounded honor is satisfied by the physical wound, and after a brief announcement of this fact and a stiff “Adios” the Spaniards drive away, and Navarro and his American friend are left upon the beach.
“Any trouble with the authorities likely?” Ashley queries, as the two turn cityward.
“I think not. Huerta is a thorough-paced scoundrel, but he has never been accused of being a coward or an informer.”