"He's had Ignacio to tell him about us," he thought to himself.
Ignacio was standing just behind the officer. There was a grin on his face and a look of delight; he rubbed his hands gleefully as he watched what transpired.
The Spanish officer glared at his prisoners sternly. Clif's bearing was quiet and dignified.
"So you are the officer who commanded the Yankee pigs?" growled the man.
"I am an American naval cadet," was the response.
The Spaniard said nothing more for a moment, but continued his piercing look.
"You put on a bold front," he said at last. "You must have looked differently when you were running away."
The remark required no answer, and got none. Clif did not mean to bandy words with the officer; if he wanted to taunt him he was welcome to do so.
"We treat our prisoners more politely," he thought, "but I suppose this is the Spanish way."
Meanwhile the officer went on.