"You forget that I am a soldier, Tomba. I am inclined to feel that it will be worth even my own life to make sure that you are where you can no longer plot against the American Government."
"But your own life, Señor Sergente?"
"My own life is less than worthless to me if I may be permitted to lose it in doing one last valuable act for the Flag of my country."
"You are boasting now!"
"As to that, Tomba, you will soon be in a position to know. And I warn you that the slightest sign of treachery on your part will be my excuse for ridding these islands of the disgrace of your presence."
"You are attempting too much," jeered the little brown man. "I see and I admit that you are brave, yet you are bound to lose."
"The time for talking is past, Tomba, and now we come to action," returned the Army boy, speaking slowly and easily. "Come, get upon your feet and obey every order of mine the instant that you receive it. In another minute or two you and I will be in the sunlight again—or else you and I have both already had our last glimpse of the light of day.
Tomba smiled, though he felt the mastery of this young wearer of Uncle Sam's uniform.
"Get up on your feet," ordered Hal. "Stand right before me, your back to me. Do you feel the point of the creese?"
"Yes," answered Tomba in a low voice, though the brown man spoke steadily.