“About fifty miles.”
“Will you tell us now, if you please, what arrangements you made with the boatman?” continued Bark, doing his best to smooth the ruffled feelings of the young Spaniard.
“Certainly I will; but I want to say in the first place that I had rather return to the Tritonia at once than be bullied by Stout or by anybody else. I don’t put on any airs, and I mean to treat everybody like a gentleman. I am a Spaniard, and I will not be insulted by any one,” said Raimundo, with as much dignity as an hidalgo in Castile.
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” said Bill mildly.
“Let it pass; but, if it is repeated, we part company at once, whatever the consequences,” added Raimundo, who then proceeded to explain what had passed between Filipe and himself.
The plan was entirely satisfactory to Bark; and so it was to Bill, though he had not the grace to say so. The villain had an itching to be the leader of whatever was going on himself; and he was very much afraid that the late second master of the Tritonia would usurp this office if he did not make himself felt in the beginning. He was rather cowed by the lofty stand Raimundo had taken; and he had come to the conclusion that he had better wait till the expedition was a little farther along before he attempted to assert himself again.
“Have you any money?” asked Raimundo, when he had finished his explanation.
“Yes. Both of us have money; and we will pay our share of the cost of the boat,” replied Bark, who was ten times more of a man than his companion in mischief.
“Is it Spanish money?”