Suarez had sufficient tact not to make this statement publicly. He told Christobal, and the doctor passed on the information to the captain. Both men went to the poop with their glasses, and carefully examined the coast line. Courtenay was the first to break an oppressive silence, and his low pitched voice announced stirring tidings. “Do you see those canoes yonder?” he said. “There were three under the trees before Suarez discovered the smoke on Guanaco. Now I fancy I can make out nearly a dozen. Though they are not launched, they have been put there for some purpose. Would you mind going forrard and asking Mr. Boyle to summon all hands on deck? He knows exactly what to do. Remember that I regard you and Miss Maxwell as non-combatants, and expect you both to remain in the saloon. If these painted devils really mean to attack, some of us will get hurt, and then your services will be of greater value than in the fighting line. And, if I do not see Miss Maxwell before the trouble begins, please tell her she need fear no alarm. We shall be able to beat off our assailants with comparative ease.” When the captain of the _Kansas_ spoke like that there was no gainsaying him. Even Christobal, whose jealous suspicions were ever ready to burst into flame, was roused to enthusiasm by his cool gallantry. But, ere the Spaniard turned to go, a disturbing thought forced its way to his lips. “We have every confidence in you,” he said, “and I admit that it should be a simple matter to prevent the savages from gaining the upper hand. Yet, accidents happen. Suppose they manage to rush your defense?” “They will not do that while I and every other man on deck are alive. If the worst comes to the worst, you have a revolver—” “Yes,” said Christobal. “It will suffice for two, but not for a hundred.” The two men, united by the very bond which threatened to bring them into antagonism, looked into each other’s eyes. “Is that your last word?” asked Christobal. “It is.” “I feel sure that you are right. Good-by!” They shook hands. They were nearer a real friendship then than either of them thought possible, and the bond which held them was love for the same woman. Courtenay, using his glasses again, saw that a number of Indians were launching the canoes simultaneously. He counted nine small craft, each holding five or six men, or men and women—at the distance, nearly three miles, he could not be certain whether or not they all wore the distinguishing head-dress of feathers. Against wind and current they could not possibly reach the ship under half an hour, and the smallness of the fleet surprised him. He stooped and patted Joey, who was at peace with the world after a good dinner. “We are in luck’s way, pup,” he said. “These rascals might get the better of us by sheer force of numbers, but there are not fifty of them, all told. Poor devils! They are coming to the slaughter!”