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"It is Yoto. He says he is going ashore, and you will not forbid him." Senor Perkins approached the ship's side. "Come here," he said to the man. The Peruvian sailor rose, but did not make the slightest movement to obey the command. "You say you are going ashore?" said Perkins blandly. "Yes, Patrono." "What for?" "To follow him the thief, the assassin who struck me here;" he pointed to his head.
"He has escaped again with his booty." "You are very foolish, my Yoto; he is no thief, and has no booty. They will put YOU in prison, not him." "YOU say so," said the man surlily. "Perhaps they will hear me for other things," he added significantly. "And for this you would abandon the cause?" The man shrugged his shoulders.
Without changing his bland expression, Senor Perkins apparently allowed his soft black eyes to rest, as if fondly, on the angry pupils of the Peruvian. The eyes of the latter presently sought the ground. "My dear Yoto," said Senor Perkins softly, "I scarcely think that this question of personal damage can be referred to the State. I will, however, look into it.
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