"There'll be fighting, presently," predicted Mr. Cumberford. "Having failed in all else, the Mexican will find a way to board us—in the night, probably—and will try to slice us to goulash or pepper us with bullets, as opportunity decides."
"Great heavens!"
"To be sure. To avoid getting to those great heavens, where you don't belong, I advise you to arm yourself properly and be ready to repel the attack."
Then Cumberford went on deck and found the captain.
"How about Ramon Ganza?" he asked.
"I think Ganza kept swimming and reached the shore, where his men dragged him to cover. The fellow seems to bear a charmed life."
"That's bad," observed Cumberford, shaking his head regretfully. "I've an idea, Captain Krell, that unless we manage to capture Ramon Ganza during the next twenty-four hours, he will manage to capture us."
"So soon?" asked the captain.
"He won't dare to wait longer. There's help coming."
"Well, sir, in that case——" The captain hesitated.