“Yes,” said Maccario, who stood up, “when it pleases him, and I think it is scarcely likely we shall sit at meat with him again. You will pledge a faithful comrade and a valiant soldier, without whom we might never have been the masters of Santa Marta.”
The men were on their feet in a moment, and Appleby felt his heart throb as he glanced down the long row of faces. Many were still grimed with dust, and the brown hands that held the glasses stained with the black fouling from the rifles, but there was no mistaking the good will in the dark eyes. Then the glasses went up with a shout that filled the great room and rang out through the open windows across the silent town, and Appleby, who never remembered what he said, found himself speaking hoarsely.
He sat down while the shouting broke out again, and saw a man in the doorway signing to him.
“The Senor Palliser is permitted to see you. It is recommended that you lose no time,” he said when there was silence.
Maccario laid his hand sympathetically upon Appleby’s arm. “It is well to be prepared,” he said. “I am afraid that by to-morrow there will be another of your countrymen struck off the roll of the Sin Verguenza.”
Appleby rose and followed the man with his heart beating painfully, and it was only by an effort he retained his tranquillity when he was led into a room in the banker’s house where a lamp was burning. Its flame flickered in the draught, for the lattices were open wide, but it showed the drawn white face that was turned expectantly towards the door.
“I am glad you have come,” said the wounded man. “I don’t think I realized what was going to happen, or where I was, until an hour ago, and then I was horribly afraid the man wouldn’t find you. You see, I don’t suppose there’s more than another hour or two left me now.”
Appleby set his lips as he glanced down at the white face, and felt that this was true. Then his eyes grew a trifle dim as he laid his hand on Tony’s arm.
“Why,” he said hoarsely, “did I ever let you go?”
Tony smiled. “There is no necessity to reproach yourself. You know just as well as I do that you could not have stopped me, and I’m not sure that after all I’m very sorry. There is nobody who will not get on just as well without me.”