was not long in offering, and Salve seized it at once, so
that the challenge might come from him. The Irishman had taken a fancy
to the boots of the wretched Spaniard who was ill, and was now wearing
them.

"Irishman," said Salve, as the other passed him, when they were lounging
about after dinner, "that is an awkward pair of boots you have on there.
If you take my advice you'll return them to their owner, or--I shall
have to pull them off you."

The Irishman glared at him, but turned pale at the last threat; and
Salve's eye seemed to light up at the prospect of carrying it out. The
former made the mistake of preparing to defend himself instead of taking
the aggressive, and in a moment was knocked down and stunned for an
instant by a couple of unexpected blows from Salve, who flew at him like
a tiger-cat. The crew gathered round. The Irishman seized a heavy iron
pump-handle as a weapon, and Salve a handspike; and Salve kept his word.
He pulled the boots off as the other lay senseless on the deck, and took
them down to the Spaniard.

In point of physical strength, Salve was far from being the equal of
many of these men, who, he knew very well, were now only looking out for
an occasion to get the better of him. His only chance was to take the
initiative on all occasions, and to seem the most reckless and the most
careless of life, and the most eager to fight of them all. He therefore
flew at his man without hesitation on the slightest provocation, and
whenever he threatened took care to keep his word.

The constant strain upon his energy became at last like a fever in his
blood, and the life he was leading began to show itself in his face. He
had come to be reckoned on board as one of those stubborn, unruly
spirits that are common enough among the dregs of humanity to be met
with in ships' holds in that quarter of the globe, and who usually end
their career at the yard-arm, or by a bullet from the captain's
revolver. In this very ship, before they came into Rio, at the time the
Irishman had been put in irons, the captain had, without any hesitation,
shot down from the yard one of the crew, whom he supposed to be the
ringleader of the mutineers. He looked upon Salve now with increasing
distrust, wondering how he could ever have been so mistaken in a man as
he had been in him. "But put a man to herd with rabble, and it's hard
for him not to become one of them," he said; and, deteriorated though he
was, Salve was still t