"But we must get rid of these things, or they will not fit in with my story when we land."
"Why, what are you going to say?"
"Say! Why, that I am a Spanish gentleman from Santiago, that you are an English friend of mine, and that we have for a freak come over here. I speak the Spanish language perfectly, of course, while you speak it with an English accent. Leave all to me. I'll manage it."
We landed at St. Sebastian in the early moming without difficulty. The change in Salambo's clothes had not only altered his appearance, but it had apparently made a different man of him. He was no longer the wild sea robber, but a refined, courteous gentleman. Instinctively the peasantry saluted him with respect, and we were soon installed in the best place of accommodation in the town.
I was anxious to get away, and feverishly asked him as to my best means of getting to England.
"I have been thinking whether we shall ever meet again," he said, without answering my question. "We have been together nearly two years, and we have come to regard each other as friends. Should we ever settle down, which I doubt in spite of our desires, I hope we shall be able to meet—meet in peace as brothers."
"Why not?" I said, boldly and confidently, "nothing would give me more joy than to welcome you in my old Cornish home."
"Ah, Señor Trewinion," he said, for I had told him my true name, "we have both been away ten years, and when we get to our respective birthplaces we shall find things much changed. And—well, my heart is sad, and I have many doubts."
"I feel that my Ruth is alive," I said, confidently, though my heart sank within me.
"She may be alive, and yet who knows if she loves you? Ah! Señor, do not build your hopes too high. A woman is for ever a woman, a puzzle to themselves, and an unfathomable mystery to men."