"Good day, my Captain," he cried, cheerily.
The Spaniard raised his head, scowled ferociously, then waved a
long, thin-bladed knife in menacing fashion.
"Aha! So there you are, robber! Be off now before I slit your
greedy little belly!" He spoke in an angry, husky voice. When
Jacket stood his ground he reached for him with a hand upon which
blood and fish-scales had dried. "Didn't I promise to give you to
the soldiers if you came back to bother me?"
Jacket was unabashed by this hostile reception. He grinned broadly
and with an impudent eye he scanned the empty premises. "Where is
my little fish?" he demanded. "As I live, I believe you have sold
it! God! What a miser! For the sake of another centavo you would
see me starve? There's a heart for you!"
"YOUR little fish!" roared the brigand, clashing his blade on the
filthy counter. "No shark ever stole so many fish as you. Come, I
shall make an end of you, and have some peace. Starve? YOU? Bah!
Your body is like a gourd."
"Yes, and quite as hollow. I starve because you possess a heart of
stone. One little fish, no longer than your finger. Just one?"
"Not so much as a fin!" cried the man. "Can I feed all the rebels
in Matanzas?"
"One little fish," Jacket wheedled, "for the sake of Miguelito,
who is bravely fighting in the manigua, to the shame of his
miserly old father, fattening on the groans of good patriots like
me! Must I remind you again that Miguelito was my brother? That I
have robbed my own belly in order to give him food?"
"Liar!"
"It is true.
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