The proof of it is that I can move my arm." And he moved it, although with a certain difficulty, feeling the weight of an increasing swelling.
"By-and-by I'll tell you how it happened....

I don't believe they'll be anxious to repeat it." Then he remained thoughtful for an instant.
"At any rate, it's best for us to get away from this port quickly....
Go and see our men.

Not one of them is to speak about it!...

Call Caragol." Before Toni could go out, the shining countenance of the cook surged up out of the obscurity.

He was on his way to the saloon, without being called, anxious to know what had occurred, and fearing to find Ferragut dying.