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The officer addressed reached out his hand to lay on the shoulder of Jack Starland, who, at that instant, recalled the knockout blow he had given Cadet Hillman of the First Class, one memorable spring morning at old Fort Putnam, West Point. It was the same lightning-like stroke which crashed into the face of the colonel and sent him staggering and toppling back to the opposite side of the cabin.
They were so near that by fiddling back and forth they might by a sudden dash close in. Most likely, had the wind been strong they would have tried this, but the breeze remained so soft that quick action was impossible. The situation was so critical that Major Starland warned the others of what was certain to follow an attempt to board.
He could readily have captured the horse and offered to do so, but Miss Starland refused the favor, saying it was a grateful relief to walk, after having been so long in doors. Accordingly the pony was left to himself. The situation had changed. The danger was transferred to the rear, though it was not likely to threaten for some time to come.
Major Starland had plenty of thinking to do and little work. Having guided the craft out into the middle of the stream, he rested the tiller between his elbow and side and held the boat to its course, while he also lazily puffed at his cigar.
It has been intimated that after Miss Starland had been delivered over to her dearest friend, the yacht dropped down the river to Zalapata, and left Jack there. Captain Winton, who was a cousin of Aunt Cynthia, intended to steam some twenty miles farther eastward to the city of San Luis, where a few needed supplies would be taken aboard.
Whatever the officer may have thought, it was evident there was no change in his intentions. Miss Starland walked lightly forward, fastening her reticule to her girdle, so as to leave her hands free, bowed to the Captain, who snapped off his hat, replaced it, and, slightly stooping, took the tiny foot for a moment in his hand, and assisted her to the saddle and reached the reins to her.
It will be recalled that the catboat, in which Major Jack Starland was descending the river in company with Captain Guzman and the Atlamalcan deserter, Martella, landed them at the spot where the young women had left the tug the night before, the cause for which action on their part has been made clear.
When Jack Starland kindly but firmly declined his offer, he feared that he would become an obstacle to his scheme; and although he hid any such feeling, he would have been glad to have him disappear from the stage of action. What galled Bambos was the fact that the American lady was the guest of his rival, who he knew would do his utmost to woo and win her.
Looking across the mile of rugged country to where the northern stream wound its way, they saw a small sailboat speeding to the eastward, the moderate breeze causing it to careen far to one side. Its prow cut the curling water and the foam spread out like a fan in its wake. "If we had a glass we might study it closely," said Miss Starland regretfully, as she scrutinized the craft.
The gun on the yacht was loaded and trained again, and, had it been fired, would have played the mischief on the Atlamalcan boat. Captain Winton began edging the Warrenia toward the other, with the purpose of running alongside and receiving its submission. Reading his intention, Major Starland called: "Don't do that! You can't trust these scoundrels! They will board!"
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