“Hah! I am myself again!” he roared. “Ensign I salute you! Comrades, it is a treat to see you again! How like you El Camino Real in haste, eh? Gonzales, good pirate, come to my arms!”
They laughed as they surged forward and around him, slapping him on his broad shoulders, grasping at his hands, crying jests and strange oaths at their happiness in seeing him again.
“Look around you, comrades!” the sergeant invited. “What you see you like, take it! While our ensign greets the comandante here—a fine fellow, by the way, but not quite up to our Santa Barbara standard—I’ll show you what has been done in the way of defence. There is a corner from where a man can command the slope——”
Gonzales interrupted him with a slap on the back so hearty that it took away the sergeant’s breath.
“A truce to your blabbing!” cried the former pirate. “Thrice have I opened jaws to ask a question, and always you spoke again before I could have a word. Where is this precious Captain Fly-by-Night? If already you have slain him, then—by the saints!—I’ll have at you myself! Hah! Where is the rogue?”
“Ah, wouldst see Captain Fly-by-Night?” the sergeant asked. “A rogue, is he? Now when did he cross your path, good pirate? Is he your friend or foe?”
“Is he? There’ll be one sergeant less for the hostiles to combat if you dare intimate the man to be friend of mine! A pretty scoundrel! Where crossed he my path? Hah! Like a whirlwind he descended upon the pueblo of Reina de Los Angeles one night, as you know very well, Cassara mine! ‘Fray Felipe of San Fernando says I am an honest man, and that you are one,’ he states. ‘I would sleep until an hour before dawn,’ he states. ‘You will care for my animal and give me a couch and food?’ he states.”
“I dare say he got what he requested,” Cassara put in, trying to choke back a laugh.
“Did he? The rogue! Did I not sit up all night, musket in hand, pistol at belt, sword ready, to guard the wretch? Did I not have my Indian prowling around the house alert for sneaks? Did I not rub down the scoundrel’s horse? And in the morning did I not ride with him a short distance on his way and give him my blessing? Hah! ‘These are turbulent times,’ I suggested to him. ‘So I have understood,’ he states. ‘Perhaps you think me a man I am not,’ he states. To my face, the rogue! And, in my wisdom, I wink one eye and slap him on the back and send him on his way. Dios!”
“We all make mistakes,” Cassara observed.