pushed her to the landing at the cove.

During all these movements of the commander of the felucca Captain Brand
was by no means an inattentive observer; and, indeed, he was so
extremely critical that he stuck the tube of a powerful telescope
through an aperture of the curtains around him, and not only looked at
his cautious visitor, but he actually watched the expression of his
uneasy eye, and almost counted every wrinkle--finely engraved as they
were--on his swarthy visage; but, if Captain Brand's own visage
reflected an index of his mind, he did not seem over and above pleased
with what he saw.

"Has a bundle of papers under his arm! I can see the hilt of that
delicate blade, too, sticking out from his wristband. Ah! I've seen him
throw that short blade from his coat-sleeve and strike a dollar at
twenty yards! Wonderful skill with knives you have, Don Ignacio; but you
never yet tried your knack with _me_! Oh no, my Tuerto--bird of ill omen
that you are! We can't do without one another just yet, so let us wait
and see what's in the wind!"

Soliloquizing these remarks, Captain Brand withdrew his telescope as the
commander of the felucca approached, and, with a cheerful smile, waited
to receive him. A few moments later the one-eyed individual mounted the
rope-ladder stairway, carefully feeling the strands, however, and
looking suspiciously around him as he stepped lightly on the piazza.

"_Ah! compadre mio!_" exclaimed Captain Brand, in Spanish, as he seized
his visitor by the flipper, and squeezed his fingers till the pressure
on his valuable rings made him wince, as he was led into the large and
spacious saloon, while at the same time the captain gave him a hearty
slap between his narrow shoulders.

"_Ah! compadre!_ How goes the friend of my soul?"

The small man gave no symptoms of joy at this warm greeting; but,
screwing his wiry frame out of the captain's caresses, his eye flashed
like a spark of fire quickly up and down and all around the apartment,
as if making a mental inventory of the furniture, and not omitting his
tall companion, from the crown of his head to the toes of his straw
slippers, when he quietly remarked through his closed teeth,

"_Como estamos?_"--"How are we?"

"Ah, Don Ignacio, _poco bueno, poco malo_! Half and half. Just getting
well over that maldito attack of Yellow Jack."

"Hum! more bad than good. No? I've brought you some letters from the
agent at Havana."

"Thanks--thanks, m