“I’ve sent them back,” he said in a voice that showed plainly his dislike at so doing, “and ordered the launch to return and wait for me. Have you the viceroy’s promise for the railroad concession?” he ended covetously; “it means fifty thousand[1] Mexican to you when the deed is signed.”
“Yes, that’s all fixed,” Phil replied, now laughing inwardly at the success of his strategy, as he saw the steam launch with the sailors leave the float and head back to their ship.
“Remember your promise to make way with those three Americans. Their government will do nothing except demand satisfaction,” the foreigner urged earnestly. “That means a little money squeezed from the viceroy’s hoarded savings and half a dozen cut-throats beheaded in the presence of the American representatives.”
“But you only asked that one of them be executed,” Phil returned, aghast at his joke on such a gruesome topic.
“Well, I might have said only one,” Ignacio made answer; “he is the darker of the two midshipmen; the one that dared rebuke me at the council before the viceroy; but the others know too much to go free.”
By this time the party had left the docks and were walking slowly up the street leading to the city gate. The street was in darkness. The few lanterns had not been lighted since the exodus of the foreigners, and as they passed the large buildings, it was plainly seen that the foreign concession had been given over to pillage; the steps and pavement in front were littered with articles which could not easily be carried away by the avaricious Chinamen.
“Have you a revolver?” Phil asked. “I am not armed, and sometimes these robbers are dangerous if they think they can get money.”
Phil wanted to know if Ignacio was armed. He feared that in the struggle which was soon to come a pistol might be accidentally discharged, which would not only arouse the Chinese guards at the gate scarcely a few hundred yards away, but might bring a party of sailors from Commander Ignacio’s ship.
“Yes, two; one in each pocket,” the foreigner answered, shoving his hands in the pockets of his naval tunic. “I always carry them, and I can shoot through my coat from the hip and hit every time.”
“Good,” Phil thought; “they’ll come in very handy for us before the night is over.”