“What do I mean?” Why, can’t you see that he wants everybody to know that it was you he kept out of trouble by not telling? He wants to put you in the wrong, so that he will be the favorite on board.”
“I don’t see but he’s that anyhow,” said Juan.
“Perhaps he is,” retorted Miguel, “and isn’t that just the way of it always? He is honest, he is, and you are only a jail-bird; and they all forget that it was you who were to do the trick, and take all the risk, so that we should all be safe back on land.”
“I’m not the only jail-bird,” said Juan, angrily.
“What difference does that make? The other jail-birds will be so glad to make friends with the honest boy that you will get the cold shoulder, see if you don’t, little brother!” Little brother was his pet name for Juan.
“I don’t see why that should be,” said Juan.
“Weren’t you trying to make friends with him?” asked Miguel, cunningly.
It was a conclusive argument, and for a moment Juan had nothing to say. Then he bethought him.
“He saved my life,” he said, as if that explained his attitude towards Diego.