first voyage, a large body of skillful adventurers had
"Good! Good!" choked Thorne. "I was scared--helpless....Dick, it worked splendidly. We had no trouble. What on earth did you do?"
"I made the row, all right," said Dick.
"Good Heavens! It was like a row I once heard made by a mob. But the shots, Dick--were they at you? They paralyzed me. Then the yells. what happened? Those guards of Rojas ran round in front at the first shot. Tell me what happened."
"While I was rushing Rojas a couple of cowboys shot out the lamplights. A Mexican who pulled a knife on me got hurt, I guess. Then I think there was some shooting from the rebels after the room was dark."
"Rushing Rojas?" queried Thorne, leaning close to Dick. His voice was thrilling, exultant, deep with a joy that yet needed confirmation. "What did you do to him?"
"I handed him one off side, tackled, then tried a forward pass," replied Dick, lightly speaking the football vernacular so familiar to Thorne.
Thorne leaned closer, his fine face showing fierce and corded in the starlight. "Tell me straight," he demanded, in thick voice.
Gale then divined something of the suffering Thorne had undergone --something of the hot, wild, vengeful passion of a lover who must have brutal truth.
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