“I asked him to give up, and he said, not if I killed him.”
“Then I told him something that I knew would hurt him worse than a beating, and let him up. After that he would not fight any more.”
“By my faith!” said Martin Alonzo, in a tone of extreme exasperation, “and what was this wonderful thing that you told him? You must indeed have the gift of language if you can cool the hot blood of a lad like Diego by words. What did you tell him? I may need to know the words some day. What were they?”
Juan hesitated and then tossed his head with a sort of pride and defiance.
“I showed him how he had done me an injustice,” he said.
“Well,” said Juan, “I will tell you, since you urge me. It was I cut the rudder gearing.”
“Ah!” said Martin Alonzo, knitting his eyebrows.
“Diego knew it was I; but would not tell you because--because--well, he was too generous.”
Martin Alonzo knew that it was because Juan had interfered to save Diego’s life, and it pleased him to have Juan refrain from telling that.
“When you were going to have him flogged, I had intended to tell you rather than let him be flogged; but he did not know that, and was so angry with me that he said hard things to me. When we were fighting--when I had him down, I bethought me how it would hurt him to tell him that I had intended to save him, and I did it. If I had not been angry I would not have done it, but I did, and that is why he could not fight any more.”
[Illustration: “‘COME, SPEAK OUT, BOY!’”]
Martin Alonzo looked into his flushed face for a minute, and then put his hand on his shoulder and said:
“You two boys ought to be friends, and will, eh? after this?”
Juan was pleased with the friendly words and manner, as, of course, he could not help being; for it was much as if a sponge had been passed over some of the degradation of his past. He looked his gratitude, but did not make any answer.
“What!” said Martin Alonzo, “can you not forgive him?”
“It isn’t that,” answered Juan, with a short, embarrassed laugh. “He won’t forgive me, and wishes to fight again, some time when we can finish.”
Martin Alonzo stared in wonder, as well he might.
“But,” he said, “I thought you said he would not fight any more.”
“Nor will he until he has become quits with me; and the way he will be quits, he says, is by making you my friend.”