Having laughed I made the best of it, and said:
“Offer him five hundred for the two of us. Hang the expense.”
The rifle wavered in the man’s hands, he steadied it, scowled at me, bit his lips, and then burst into shouts of laughter. He sank back against one of the rocks, and pointed at Aiken mockingly.
“I knew it was you all the time,” he cried, “for certain I did. I knew it was you all the time.”
I was greatly relieved, but naturally deeply indignant. I felt as though someone had jumped from behind a door, and shouted “Boo!” at me. I hoped in my heart that the colonel would give the fellow eight hours’ pack drill. “What a remarkable sentry,” I said.
Aiken shoved his hands into his breeches pockets, and surveyed the man with an expression of the most violent disgust.
“You’ve got a damned queer idea of a joke,” he said finally. “I might have shot you!”
The man seemed to consider this the very acme of humor, for he fairly hooted at us. He was so much amused that it was some moments before he could control himself.
“I saw you at Porto Cortez,” he said, “I knew you was the American Consul all the time. You came to our camp after the fight, and the General gave you a long talk in his tent. Don’t you remember me? I was standing guard outside.”
Aiken snorted indignantly.