as any jaguar in those deep woods behind his castle. The
Admiral returned to his discourse with Mexia, who might drop some useful
hints as to the road to El Dorado.

"We have met before," said De Guardiola. "It was you who led your
landing-party, capturing the battery."

"The fortune of war, senior! What says your proverb--"

"I gave ground, it is true.... There may come an hour when with a whip
of iron I will drive you from Nueva Cordoba. Did you lead the attack
upon the town?"

"Not so, senor. Sir John Nevil very valiantly held that honor, and to
him Nueva Cordoba surrendered."

"Last night--when I thought to take you by-surprise--were you the
leader then?"

"Yes, senor."

"Wore you," the Spaniard spoke slowly--"wore you black armor? Wore you
in your helm a knot of rose-colored velvet?... Ah, it was you unhorsed
me, then!"

"Again, senor, the fortune of war."

A spasm distorted for the moment De Guardiola's every feature. So often
of late had chagrin been pressed to his lips that the cup had grown
poisonous. When he spoke it was with a hollow voice: "Had not Mexia come
in between us!... The light caught the velvet knot upon your helm and it
flamed like a star. I, Luiz de Guardiola, lying at your feet, looked up
and saw it blaze above me like an evil star!" His hand fell heavily upon
the table. "The star may fall, Englishman!"

"The helm that bore the star may decline to earth," answered Ferne. "The
star is fixed--beyond thy snatching, Spaniard!"

Thrust in Mexia, leaving El Dorado for the present less gilded plight of
the Spanish: "Fifty thousand ducats! Holy Virgin! Are we Incas of
Peru--Atahualpas who can fill a hall with gold? Now, twenty thousand--"

"I will not pay one peso," said De Guardiola. His voice, low and
vibrant, was as a warder thrown down. On the instant, all the length of
the table, the hurried speech, the growing excitement, the interchange
of taunt and bravado, ceased, and men leaned forward, waiting. The
silence was remarkable. Down in the square was heard the sentinel's
tread; from a bough that drooped against the wall a globe of vegetable
gold fell with the noise of stone-shot.

"Raze every house in Nueva Cordoba," went on the Spaniard, "play the
earthquake and the wave--then sail away, sail away, marauders! and leave
the fortress virgin, and the treasure no lighter by one piece, and Luiz
de Guardiola to find a day when English dogs shall cringe before him!"

He had risen from