When the captain of the Kansas spoke like that there was no gainsaying him. Even Christobal, whose jealous suspicions were ever ready to burst into flame, was roused to enthusiasm by his cool gallantry.
But, ere the Spaniard turned to go, a disturbing thought forced its way to his lips.
“We have every confidence in you,” he said, “and I admit that it should be a simple matter to prevent the savages from gaining the upper hand. Yet, accidents happen. Suppose they manage to rush your defense?”
“They will not do that while I and every other man on deck are alive. If the worst comes to the worst, you have a revolver—”
“Yes,” said Christobal.
“It will suffice for two, but not for a hundred.” The two men, united by the very bond which threatened to bring them into antagonism, looked into each other’s eyes.
“Is that your last word?” asked Christobal.
“It is.”
“I feel sure that you are right. Good-by!”
They shook hands. They were nearer a real friendship then than either of them thought possible, and the bond which held them was love for the same woman.