To my surprise the Chevalier, instead of picking up his oar, grasped a bit of the projecting root, and, sword dangling after him, coolly stepped forth upon dry land.
"You and your cursed canting preacher can do as you please," he announced carelessly, staring down at us, "but if you desire to retain me as one of this interesting party, you will wait until I return." "Surely, man, you do not propose attacking the Spaniards single-handed?
This is sheer madness." He laughed lightly at the look of consternation on my face, twisting his moustache between his white fingers, his good humor instantly restored.
"Nay, most valiant hunter of game," he returned gayly.

"_Le diable_! you appear as horrified as your hellfire friend yonder at sight of a crucifix.

_Sacre_! I am not such a fool.

I know when the odds are too great, even although I wear a uniform.

Still, should I chance to meet obstruction during my ramble, it is not likely I shall run from it without a pass or two.