“Was born in the saddle, and in the saddle there are few Americanos she would not weary,” came Enrico’s answer. “It would be well, with your acquiescence, to swing out the long boat in case the _Dolores_ appears upon us.” CHAPTER VIII “It’s all right, skipper, it’s all right,” Henry assured the breed captain, who, standing on the beach with them, seemed loath to say farewell and pull back to the _Angelique_ adrift half a mile away in the dead calm which had fallen on Juchitan Inlet. “It is what we call a diversion,” Francis explained. “That is a nice word—_diversion_. And it is even nicer when you see it work.” “But if it don’t work,” Captain Trefethen protested, “then will it spell a confounded word, which I may name as _catastrophe_.” “That is what happened to the _Dolores_ when we tangled her propeller,” Henry laughed. “But we do not know the meaning of that word. We use _diversion_ instead. The proof that it will work is that we are leaving Senor Solano’s two sons with you. Alvarado and Martinez know the passages like a book. They will pilot you out with the first favoring breeze. The Jefe is not interested in you. He is after us, and when we take to the hills he’ll be on our trail with every last man of his.” “Don’t you see!” Francis broke in. “The _Angelique_ is trapped. If we remain on board he will capture us and the _Angelique_ as well. But we make the diversion of taking to the hills. He pursues us. The _Angelique_ goes free. And of course he won’t catch us.” “But suppose I do lose the schooner!” the swarthy skipper persisted. “If she goes on the rocks I will lose her, and the passages are very perilous.” “Then you will be paid for her, as I’ve told you before,” Francis said, with a show of rising irritation. “Also are there my numerous expenses——” Francis pulled out a pad and pencil, scribbled a note, and passed it over, saying: “Present that to Senor Melchor Gonzales at Bocas del Toro. It is for a thousand gold. He is the banker; he is my agent, and he will pay it to you.” Captain Trefethen stared incredulously at the scrawled bit of paper. “Oh, he’s good for it,” Henry said. “Yes, sir, I know, sir, that Mr. Francis Morgan is a wealthy gentleman of renown. But how wealthy is he? Is he as wealthy as I modestly am? I own the _Angelique_, free of all debt. I own two town lots, unimproved, in Colon. And I own four water-front lots in Belen that will make me very wealthy when the Union Fruit Company begins the building of the warehouses——” “How much, Francis, did your father leave you?” Henry quipped teasingly. “Or, rather, how many?” Francis shrugged his shoulders as he answered vaguely: “More than I have fingers and toes.” “Dollars, sir?” queried the captain. Henry shook his head sharply. “Thousands, sir?” Again Henry shook his head. “Millions, sir?”