“I supposed you had told him already. I saw you talking with him.”
“I didn’t tell him. I wish you to tell him.”
“I?” exclaimed Juan. “I won’t do it. Why should I?”
“Because he dislikes you, and it will put you in favor with him if you do it. If I let you tell him it will make us quits again.”
“Betray my comrades to please you!” said Juan, scornfully. “I won’t.”
“How would it betray them? Don’t you see that if you don’t tell I shall have to? You don’t want me to have a right to fight you,” said Diego, bitterly.
“I won’t do it, anyhow,” said Juan.
“He trusted you; he took your word, and I think that puts you under obligation to tell him instead of telling the sailors, especially as it won’t do them any good to know. I think you’re afraid to fight, that’s what I think.”
“No you don’t,” retorted Juan. “Well, I’ll tell Martin Alonzo, though I don’t want to; and I’ll fight you some day, and I will beat you so that you will never ask me to fight again.”
“Thank you,” said Diego, joyously, “and I’ll never call you ugly names again, nor sneer at you.”