"I've come back all right," said he. "But I'm here to offer terms, which you may accept or not, as you wish."
And thereupon, for some reason or other, the Spaniard, Vasco, burst forth into such a rapid stream of language that it seemed to me--who understood not a word of what he said--that he swore with the most amazing fluency and violence. At all events, when at last he ended, apparently for want of breath, it came as a kind of relief to us to hear the lazy drawl of Mr. Forsyth.
"Amicus certus in re incerta," he observed. "Sure friend in doubtful circumstances. Amos, we welcome you. We greet you as Joseph received his brethren."
It was then that Bannister spoke in his natural voice; and, as I listened, I tried to imagine the feelings of those others whom his words took so wholly by surprise.
"Amos Baverstock has not returned," said he; "and I am prepared to take my oath he never will. A certain friend, in very truth, was he who led you here, and then entrapped you that you all might starve to death!"
"Who's that?" cried Trust.
"My name's John Bannister. And it was you, Joshua Trust, who once tried to kill me--who, indeed, left me for dead. Do you remember that day in the mountains, when Amos caught me in Cahazaxa's Tomb? Well, now he has done the same for you. He has buried you alive; and when he comes back for the gold he covets, he will think to find it strewn with the bones of those who were fools enough to believe he was their friend."
I heard Trust groan in the darkness; or, I think, perhaps, a growl describes it better. Forsyth, judging by the tones of his voice, was just as calm as ever.
"Bannister!" he exclaimed. "So this is the end of it all! We are to owe our lives to you!"
"That's a matter," answered Bannister, "for yourselves to settle. How long have you been here?"