The horseman had dismounted and was carefully extinguishing the fire, treading on each separate ember until it was out.
"Gentlemen, will you come with me?" he asked, finally. "I'll bring you to your own."
"What does he say?" asked the one who had been called "Captain."
"He is offering a house after the Spanish custom."
"Well, indeed! One of the first things I do when I get on shipboard will be to learn Spanish."
The one riding moved away from the wide-branching oak, where the fire had been, out toward the open. It was bright starlight.
"Let the injured one ride my horse. I will show the path on foot. Come. It is not far to Señor Miramonte's house."
The Commodore interpreted this to his companion.
"If it isn't far I'd rather crawl than ride," the Captain replied. "Where in the world is the path? It's light enough, but I surely do not see any. Say, is that fellow an agent for a bandit or something like that? The pay of an American naval captain is such, you know——"
"Never fear, Hamilton," laughed the Commodore. "Your pay and mine combined, for a year, would be hardly more than a bagatelle for one of these land-and-cattle barons, such as is Miramonte, I believe."