ntleman to death. Is
there no other way we could dispose of him?"

"Pah, _hombre_! You're always harping on the strings of humanity;
striking discordant sounds too. There's no other way by which we can be
ourselves safe. If we let him live, he'd be sure to turn up somewhere,
and tell a tale that would get both our throats grappled by the
_garrota_. The women might do the same, if we didn't make wives of
them. Once that, and we can make exhibit of our marriage certificates,
their words will go for nought. Besides, having full marital powers, we
can take precautions against any scandal. Don Gregorio has got to die;
the skipper too; and that rough fellow, the first mate--with the old
blackamoor _cocinero_."

"_Maldita_! I don't feel up to all that. It will be rank wholesale
murder."

"Nothing of the sort--only drowning. And we needn't do that either.
They can be tied before we scuttle the ship, and left to go down along
with her. By the time she sinks, we'll be a long way off; and you, my
sensitive and sentimental friend, neither see nor hear anything to give
your tender heart a horror."

"The thought of it's enough."

"But how is it to be helped? If they're allowed to live, we'd never be
out of danger. Maybe, you'd like to abandon the business altogether,
and resign thought of ever having the pretty Inez for a wife?"

"There you mistake, _amigo_. Sooner than that, I'll do the killing
myself. Ay, kill _her_, rather than she shall get away from me."

"Now you're talking sense. But see! What's up yonder?"

The interrogatory is from seeing a group of men assembled on the
fore-deck, alongside the hatch. The sky cloudless, with a full moon
overhead, shows it to be composed of nearly, if not all, the _Condor's_
crew. The light also displays them in earnest gesticulation, while
their voices, borne aft, tell of some subject seriously debated.

What can it be? They of the last dog-watch, long since relieved, should
be asleep in their bunks. Why are they now on deck? Their presence
there, gives surprise to the two at the wheel.

And while engaged in expressing it, and interrogating one another, they
perceive the second mate coming aft--as also, that he makes approach in
hurried, yet stealthy manner.

"What is it?" asks Gomez.

"A strike," answers Padilla. "A mutiny among the men we engaged to
assist us."

"On what grounds?"

"They've got to know all about the gold-dust--even to the exact qua