“I want to tell you something. When they were going to flog you—”
“You sneaked out of the way,” interrupted Diego, sneeringly.
“I tried to save you,” cried Juan, triumphantly.
“You tried hard,” sneered Diego again.
“Miguel held me at first,” said Juan, exultantly, knowing surer all the time how it would hurt Diego to know it; “but you may ask any of the men if I did not get to the mast just after you had been taken away.”
“When you knew it was too late,” said Diego.
“You know better. I was going to save you the flogging by telling that I cut the gearing.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Diego, doggedly.
“Yes, you do,” said Juan, “and I am going to let you up. I hate you, do you hear me? I hate you! I am going to let you up.”