“And now,” declared Pulido anxiously, “you are one of us!”
“I am nothing of the sort,” snapped Roddy. “If my father does not wish to tell me his plans I can’t take advantage of what I learn of them from strangers. I shall go on,” he continued with suspicious meekness, “with the work Father has sent me here to do. Who am I, that I should push myself into the politics of your great country?”
“And the duel?” demanded Pulido.
“I am sure,” hastily interjected Colonel Ramon, “if Colonel Vega withdraws his offensive remark about President Alvarez, Mr. Forrester will withdraw his blow.”
Roddy failed to see how a blow that had left a raw spot on the chin of Pino Vega could by mutual agreement be made to vanish. But if to the minds of the Spanish-Americans such a miracle were possible, it seemed ungracious not to consent to it.
“If I understand you,” asked Roddy, “Colonel Vega withdraws his offensive remark?”
The seconds of Pino Vega nodded vigorously.
“Then,” continued Roddy, “as there was no offensive remark, there could have been no blow, and there can be no duel.”
Roddy’s summing up delighted the Venezuelans, and declaring that the honor of all was satisfied, they bowed themselves away.
Next morning at daybreak the fortress of San Carlos rose upon the horizon, and by ten o’clock Roddy was again at work, threatening a gang of Jamaica coolies. But no longer he swore at them with his former wholeheartedness. His mind was occupied with other things. Now, between him and his work, came thoughts of the tunnel that for half a century had lain hidden from the sight of man; and of Inez, elusive, beautiful, distracting, now galloping recklessly toward him down a sunlit road, now a motionless statue standing on a white cliff, with the waves of the Caribbean bending and bowing before her.