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José shrugged, calmly drank the coronel's wine, lighted the coronel's cigar, leaned back in the coronel's chair, and eyed the coronel with imperturbable insolence. "See here, José," demanded McKay, "you've had something up your sleeve all along. Now come clean! What is it?" José puffed airily at the cigar, saying nothing. "What orders did Schwandorf give you?"
José recovered himself and lifted his coffee cup. "I do not understand you, Nunes," he replied, languidly. "I am but the humble puntero of the crew engaged by these señores. My only work has been to earn my pay. And you may ask el capitan whether I have earned it." "Ay, he has," corroborated McKay. "Killed two of his own crew in our defense." The coronel's jaw dropped.
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