other
see that he was quite aware of his man[oe]uvres, and that they must not
be attempted in the future. "Are you tired or shall we play another
hand?"

"I think a little rest, Senor, would be acceptable," Moreas responded.
"It is so hot under this awning. I will ask you for my revenge another
time."

With that he rose and lit a fresh cigar. Going to the companion hatch,
he called to the steward to bring a couple of bottles of beer and some
glasses on deck. When these arrived, he insisted that Max and the
captain, who had just arrived on the poop, should join him. To all
appearances he was as calm and as friendly as usual, but there was still
a gleam in his eyes that spoke for the smouldering fire in the brain
behind.

"It is too hot," he said, spreading his arms abroad. "How shall we amuse
ourselves? We have read, we have played, and now we have drunk beer.
What else is there for us to do?"

Then, as if an idea had struck him, he continued:

"I wonder if our good friend, the captain, here, would permit us to have
some pistol practice. There would be no danger, believe me, if we shoot
over the stern."

Max understood what was in his mind. Though he had pretended to do so,
the other had not forgotten the incident of the cards, and now he was
going to give him, in case he should be inclined to spread the report
abroad, an exhibition of his powers with the pistol. It was a hint
delicately administered.

"I don't know that I ought to allow it," said the captain doubtfully;
"but seeing that we have no ladies aboard, and that you promise to fire
over the stern, we will risk it. Don't shoot each other, and don't keep
it up too long, that's all I ask."

Moreas gave his promise and immediately disappeared below, to appear a
few moments later, carrying in his hand a revolver, a piece of string,
and a dozen medium-sized apples. Reaching the deck, he made one of the
apples fast by the string to the wire rope that carried the awning. When
this was done it hung midway between the awning and the taffrail, and
afforded an excellent target.

"Have you done much shooting with the revolver?" Moreas inquired of Max,
as he returned from placing the fruit in position.

"A little," the other replied.

"In that case shall we say thirty paces?"

"Whatever you like," said Max.

The distance was accordingly measured, and a chalk line drawn upon the
deck.

"Shall we bet on the shot," remarked Moreas, taking a box of cartridge