Hunger, apparently, had rendered him furious; but feeling certain in a moment that timidity would do me no service, I started back and said in Spanish,—
"Villain! for what have you dared to strike me?"
"Dared," he reiterated; "ha! ha! much daring there is about it."
"Yes, you dog of a picaro!"
"For what reason did you desert me, you raterillo?"
"Because I could scarcely procure food for myself, and still less for a lazy ruffian like you."
"Ha! ha! I told you what would happen when I wanted food," said he, feeling the point of his knife.
My blood ran cold at these words, and I cast a longing eye upon my lost hatchet; he saw the glance, and trampled upon the weapon with a mocking laugh.
"What do you mean, Cubano?" I asked, in an almost breathless voice.
"Simply this: that as self-preservation is the first law of nature, I am bound to kill you."