Chapter Thirty.
A cunning scheme.
“Yes,” said the skipper sternly, speaking in very fair Spanish, “you may say you are a friend, but a friend doesn’t come crawling into a camp like a serpent. It seems to me you are a spy; and do you know what is the fate of a spy at a time like this?”
“Yes, yes, señor; a spy would be shot.”
“Right—to save other people’s lives. Where were you going?”
“I was coming here, señor, to the hacienda.”
“So I supposed; but what for?”
The man seemed to hesitate, and tried to speak, but no words would come, for he was either suffering from agitation, exhaustion, or utter fear, and Fitz Burnett’s hands turned wet and cold at the thought of the stern judgment that would be passed upon the trembling wretch if he could not prove his words.
“Do you hear what I say?” said the skipper, in a stern, fierce voice.