At the cannibalistic comparison, Schomberg muttered a faint sickly “don’t.” Ricardo hitched himself up in his seat and glanced down his outstretched legs complacently.
“I am tolerably light on my feet, as a general thing,” he went on. “Dash me if I don’t think I could drop a pinch of salt on a sparrow’s tail, if I tried. Anyhow, they didn’t hear me. I watched them two brown, hairy brutes not ten yards off. All they had on was white linen drawers rolled up on their thighs. Not a word they said to each other. Antonio was down on his thick hams, busy rubbing the knife on a flat stone; Pedro was leaning against a small tree and passing his thumb along the edge of his blade. I got away quieter than a mouse, you bet.
“I didn’t say anything to the boss then. He was leaning on his elbow on his rug, and didn’t seem to want to be spoken to. He’s like that—sometimes that familiar you might think he would eat out of your hand, and at others he would snub you sharper than a devil—but always quiet. Perfect gentleman, I tell you. I didn’t bother him then; but I wasn’t likely to forget them two fellows, so businesslike with their knives. At that time we had only one revolver between us two—the governor’s six-shooter, but loaded only in five chambers; and we had no more cartridges. He had left the box behind in a drawer in his cabin. Awkward! I had nothing but an old clasp-knife—no good at all for anything serious.
“In the evening we four sat round a bit of fire outside the sleeping-shed, eating broiled fish off plantain leaves, with roast yams for bread—the usual thing. The governor and I were on one side, and these two beauties, cross-legged on the other, grunting a word or two to each other now and then, hardly human speech at all, and their eyes down, fast on the ground. For the last three days we couldn’t get them to look us in the face. Presently I began to talk to the boss quietly, just as I am talking to you now, careless like, and I told him all I had observed. He goes on picking up pieces of fish and putting them into his mouth as calm as anything. It’s a pleasure to have anything to do with a gentleman. Never looked across at them once.
“ ‘And now,’ says I, yawning on purpose, ‘we’ve got to stand watch at night, turn about, and keep our eyes skinned all day, too, and mind we don’t get jumped upon suddenly.’
“ ‘It’s perfectly intolerable,’ says the governor. ‘And you with no weapon of any sort!’
“ ‘I mean to stick pretty close to you, sir, from this on, if you don’t mind,’ says I.
“He just nods the least bit, wipes his fingers on the plantain leaf, puts his hand behind his back, as if to help himself to rise from the ground, snatches his revolver from under his jacket, and plugs a bullet plumb centre into Mr. Antonio’s chest. See what it is to have to do with a gentleman. No confounded fuss, and things done out of hand. But he might have tipped me a wink or something. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Scared ain’t in it! I didn’t even know who had fired. Everything had been so still just before that the bang of the shot seemed the loudest noise I had ever heard. The honourable Antonio pitches forward—they always do, towards the shot; you must have noticed that yourself—yes, he pitches forward on to the embers, and all that lot of hair on his face and head flashes up like a pinch of gunpowder. Greasy, I expect; always scraping the fat off them alligators’ hides—”
“Look here,” exclaimed Schomberg violently, as if trying to burst some invisible bonds, “do you mean to say that all this happened?”
“No,” said Ricardo coolly. “I am making it all up as I go along, just to help you through the hottest part of the afternoon. So down he pitches, his nose on the red embers, and up jumps our handsome Pedro and I at the same time, like two Jacks-in-the-box. He starts to bolt away, with his head over his shoulder, and I, hardly knowing what I was doing, spring on his back. I had the sense to get my hands round his neck at once, and it’s about all I could do to lock my fingers tight under his jaw. You saw the beauty’s neck, didn’t you? Hard as iron, too. Down we both went. Seeing this the governor puts his revolver in his pocket.
“ ‘Tie his legs together, sir,’ I yell. ‘I’m trying to strangle him.’
“There was a lot of their fibre-lines lying about. I gave him a last squeeze and then got up.
“ ‘I might have shot you,’ says the governor, quite concerned.
“ ‘But you are glad to have saved a cartridge, sir,’ I tell him.
“My jump did save it. It wouldn’t have done to let him get away in the dark like that, and have the beauty dodging around in the bushes, perhaps, with the rusty flintlock gun they had. The governor owned up that the jump was the correct thing.
“ ‘But he isn’t dead,’ says he, bending over him.
“Might as well hope to strangle an ox.
