“Aw, Rodriguez, you’re just feeling kind of low down, that’s all,” Hal soothed him. “In the morning you’ll be shipshape, you’ll see. Things are just sort of looking black to you.”
“I am dying, Señor Hal!” Rodriguez repeated. “You must listen or I shall not die peacefully!”
“Aw, all right, old top. If it eases you to tell me something, go ahead. But you’ll be as fit as a top in the morning. From what I know of Brazil-nuts, they’re pretty darn hard to crack,” Hal added facetiously.
The ghost of a smile flickered about Rodriguez’ ashen lips but soon he was grave again.
“I am for the Cause,” he said faintly; “I pledged my life, my honor for the Cause if need be, Señor.”
“You don’t mean the rebels?” Hal asked, taking a moment to replenish the fire.
“Ah, you call it that, Señor. To us it is the Cause. We want freedom—political.”
“That’s what all you birds say. But go on, Rodriguez.”
“Señor Goncalves he is a comrade of mine, Señor—a comrade in the Cause. And Señor Pizella....”
“Aha, we’re getting somewhere,” Hal interposed, taking a sudden interest. “Pizella, huh, Rodriguez?”