“Who is it?” he heard Miguel whisper.
“The boy Diego,” was Juan’s answer.
“Ah! and he was spying on us?”
“I think so.”
There was an instant of silence, during which Diego felt the grasp on his throat relax, and he made a furious, desperate effort to free himself.
“Ah! would you?” said Miguel, angrily, and once more tightened his grasp on Diego’s throat. Then he said, suddenly: “The little spoil-sport! The best place for him is over the rail. Bear a hand, Juan, and we will send him to find better company, since he seems to dislike ours.”
“What! throw him overboard?” demanded Juan.
“What else?”
“No, no. I won’t do it,” was the hasty answer.