“You mean Nostromo?” said Decoud.
“The English call him so, but that is no name either for man or beast,” said the girl, passing her hand gently over her sister’s hair.
“But he lets people call him so,” remarked Decoud.
“Not in this house,” retorted the child.
“Ah! well, I shall call him the Capataz then.”
Decoud gave up the point, and after writing steadily for a while turned round again.
“When do you expect him back?” he asked.
“After he brought you here he rode off to fetch the Senor Doctor from the town for mother. He will be back soon.”
“He stands a good chance of getting shot somewhere on the road,” Decoud murmured to himself audibly; and Linda declared in her high-pitched voice—
“Nobody would dare to fire a shot at Gian’ Battista.”