"Ah, Cascaes, that's you, is it? And I thought once you claimed to be a gentleman, and agreed not to go at me from behind? Well, I'm afraid there's only one kind of medicine that will suit you, and that's the kind one gives to dogs that turn treacherous. Have you got any suggestions to make?"
The Portuguese held his tongue.
"Ready to take your gruel, are you? Well, I propose to give you a full dose. Hi there, driver, pull up. Wake, you sleepy head! What is it? Why, I've picked up a passenger whilst you've been nodding, and now we want to get down for a minute. Here, give me your whip."
*****
Carter's arm was lusty and his temper raw. Moreover, the whip, being the property of a Las Palmas tartana driver, was made for effective use.
"I may not cure you," said Carter between thumps, "of a taste for cold-blooded assassination, but I'm going to make the wearing of a coat and breeches an annoyance to you for the next three weeks at any rate." After which statement, as the whip broke, he flung the patient into the aloe hedge at the side of the road, got back into the tartana and told the driver to hurry on to the Isleta, or they'd miss the boat.
CHAPTER XX
MAJOR MEREDITH
"The Liverpool Post," said Mrs. Craven, "allows itself to hint gently that you've been rather persecuting Mr. Carter, Kate. Now, I don't call the Post a sensational paper, nor is it given to introducing personal matters, as a rule."
"I wish it would mind its own business and leave mine alone," said Kate crossly.