Juan was as gay as Diego was dull, and received the congratulations of Miguel and a few of the other sailors in very good spirits. At first he was inclined to be offensive to Diego, not by any direct affront to him, but by a little too much ostentation in his high spirits; but later he was more quiet, and seemed to have dismissed Diego from his mind.
As for Diego, he no longer looked at Juan, but kept himself to himself until the coming of night cleared the deck of all except the watch, in which they both were. Then he watched Juan again until he saw him standing alone, when he went over to him and touched him on the shoulder. Juan turned and started.
“Oh,” said he, “you wish me to fight here so that Martin Alonzo will stop us!”
“No,” answered Diego, breathing hard, as if to keep his anger in check, “I don’t wish to fight now. I only wish to say something to you. Some day, perhaps, we shall fight again.”
“I hope so,” answered Juan, with a disagreeable laugh.
“And I hope so,” said Diego, struggling with a sob of rage. He controlled himself and went on: “What I wished to say was that I believed you about your being willing to save me from the flogging. If I had known it before—”
“I tried to tell you once,” said Juan, in an eager, softened tone.
“I know it,” answered Diego, “and it was my fault that you did not. I said unpleasant things.”
“But it’s all right now,” said Juan, joyously. “Shall we shake hands?” and he held out his hand, fully expecting Diego to take it.