But Juan Ramirez suddenly and resolutely checked the thought that perhaps he might be justified in using some of the money intrusted to him by our hero.
“He said that belonged to another. Therefore he would not thank me to use some of it to save his life.”
Such was the simple creed of honor of this Cuban.
He was soon rewarded, however, by a flutter of the eyelids, a sigh from the unconscious one.
“Santa Maria! He still lives!” cried the Cuban, now overjoyed, and working as if his own life depended upon the result.
A minute later Hal Maynard opened his eyes.
Juan bent so low over him that, despite the darkness, our hero recognized his rescuer.
“Ramirez?” he murmured.
“At your service, Senor Americano.”
“But I was dropped into the harbor—weighted.”