The detestation with which he uttered the words convinced Ned—if he had, indeed, needed any convincing, that they were in as dangerous a position as could be imagined. One slip and they might find themselves with their backs against a wall, facing a row of insurgent rifles.
“If he ever speaks to me, it’s all off,” thought Ned, with a groan.
But luckily the general confined his conversation to Stark, who, as he went on, grew more confident.
“What seems to be the spirit of the city?” asked the general, after some questions regarding the number of ships in the harbor and so forth.
“Oh, favorable, general, favorable,” responded Stark confidently, feeling secure in his non-committal answer.
“You have been there long?”
“We arrived on the mail steamer yesterday, sir.”
“Indeed! then you were fellow passengers with one of my most faithful followers, Senor Charbonde?”
“Senor, I beg your pardon, I didn’t quite catch the name.”