“Did you hear that, fray?” Sergeant Gonzales demanded, whirling upon old Felipe. “More insults, and I cannot avenge them! A caballero insults me and will not fight, and I cannot fight a fray! By the time we clash with these pirates I shall be in a fine rage, and work it off on their worthless bodies. Ha!”
Don Audre Ruiz gave a gasp and called some of the caballeros to his side.
“Look!” he directed. “They are making some poor devil walk the plank! By the saints, ’tis Zorro!”
“Zorro!” the others cried.
“Look! And the little señorita is standing at the rail, forced to watch!”
There was a moment of horrified silence. The face of Don Audre Ruiz was white as he contemplated the fate of his friend. The caballeros said not a word, but those who had glasses watched, and the others strained their eyes in an effort to see.
And then Don Audre Ruiz gave a low cry of horror and turned quickly away, as though he could endure the sight no longer.
What he had seen had been enough. There were traces of tears in his eyes, and his voice choked.
“He is gone!” Don Audre said. “Don Diego, my friend! We can only avenge him now!”
“Gone!” Sergeant Gonzales cried, sudden tears in his eyes, too. He brushed them away roughly and blinked. “Don Diego gone? Then, by the saints, will my blade be thrust as it never has been thrust before! Now, by the saints—”