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Updated: June 5, 2025
In unlacing the senor's helmet, the evening that he was taken prisoner, I was unlucky enough to twitch his mustachios. You recollect the fact, of course, senor?" "Perfectly," said the Spaniard; and then, half-amused and half-pleased, in spite of his bitter wrath, at Cary's quickness and delicacy in shielding Rose, he bowed, and
Don Miguel did not appear; but presently she descried a phantom-like figure ascending the flight of steps to the veranda. Could that be he? If so, he was bolder in his wooing than Grace had been prepared for. But surely that was a strange costume that he wore; nor did the unconscious harmony of the gait at all resemble the senor's self-conscious strut. And whither was he going?
Jerry sitting inside, with a patchwork quilt over her shoulders, her eyes holding a shade more of wistfulness and less twinkle, perhaps, but with her lips quite ready to smile upon her visitor. Teresita sat down upon a box and curiously watched the pretty señora try to make a small, triangular piece of cloth cover a large, irregular hole in the elbow of the big señor's coat sleeve.
Nevertheless, the Senor's bland revelations filled him with vague uneasiness. SHE was safe with her brother now; but what if he and the other Americans were engaged in this ridiculous conspiracy, this pot-house rebellion that Father Esteban had spoken of, and which he had always treated with such contempt?
It was composed of the first and second mate, a vicious-looking Peruvian sailor with a bandaged head, and, to the Senor's astonishment, the missing passenger Hurlstone, seated on the deck, heavily ironed. "Tell him what you know, Pedro," said the first mate to the Peruvian sailor curtly.
The gloomy Cuban at once rushed upon me, as if he would have taken me into his arms. "The Inglesito of Rio Medio!" he said. "Ha, ha! Much have I heard of you. Much of the senor's valiance! Many tales! That foul eater of the carrion of the priests wishes your life! Ah, but let him beware! I shall save you, Señor I, Don Vincente Salazar."
While Febrer was greedily eating, with the appetite aroused by his gladsome news, the boy's eager eyes roved about the room to see if he could discover the letter which had so piqued his curiosity. Nothing was in sight. The señor's good spirits finally enlivened him also, and he laughed without knowing why, feeling obliged to be in a good humor since Don Jaime was so.
The broad brim of her hat seemed to form an aureole around the rose-pale face in which trembled the dark drops of her eyes. "Greeting, Almond Blossom!" called Febrer, smiling, but with hesitation in his voice. Almond Blossom! As the girl heard this name on the señor's lips a flush of color momentarily overspread the soft whiteness of her face. Had Don Jaime heard that name?
The two were talking with great animation. The Ironworker seemed to be giving advice, and the sick boy was listening with affirmative gestures. "And what of that?" Febrer asked. The Little Chaplain seemed to pity the señor's simplicity. "Be careful, Don Jaime. You don't know the men of the island. This conversation at the forge means something. This is Saturday, courting night.
"Ah, I'm afraid that won't wash," remarked Bates, catching the look of astonishment and perplexity on my face as I turned my regards away from the hatchway. "The captain means to pump the Portuguese, if he can, but from the cut of the senor's jib I fancy there is not much to be got out of him; he looks to be far too wide-awake to let us become as wise as himself.
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