of your life. I can do it, too. I learned that in America, at least.
And for the present we are in the same fix. We are here as common
soldiers. My papers were stolen from me in barracks the night my
father died, Velo, so there won't be any proving at all. We are just a
pair of stokers on a transport. But don't think for a _minute_ that I
mean to stay where I am. A Zaidos cannot be kept in the hold. I shall
do something for the honor of my name, you may be assured of that. But
remember _I am Zaidos, the stoker_. As I said, if I find that silly
tongue of yours wagging, I will make--you--good--and--sorry."

He paused, and with keen eyes searched Velo's face to make sure he
comprehended it all.

Velo was silent, and Zaidos returned to his cot, once more conscious of
his fatigue and lameness.

But Velo, turning to the wall, pressed his face to the hard mattress,
and let the deadly hate he bore his cousin fill his very being. He
pressed his hand on the stolen papers hidden in his kit. Zaidos must
die. Zaidos must die! All his evil blood boiled in him. For hours,
when he should have been sleeping off his fatigue, as Zaidos was doing,
he lay hating and plotting. A dozen evil schemes formed in his mind,
but Velo was a coward. _He_ did not mean to be caught in anything that
looked shady. When he was finally rid of his cousin, he did not want
to be unable to appeal to the King and later enjoy the boundless wealth
and vast estates and unblemished honor of the Zaidos name.

Before dawn both boys were called to go into the engine-rooms with
their shift. Zaidos, although lame and aching, was still refreshed by
his slumber and ready for work. But Velo could scarcely drag himself
along. He worked as little as possible, the engineer grumbling at his
poor performance. He kept close to Zaidos, dogging him about like a
treacherous and snapping cur.

His chance came finally. Zaidos, with a great shovel of coal, was
approaching the terrible open door of the blazing furnace. Velo, with
his empty shovel, had just left it. As his cousin passed him he gave a
sly twist to the dragging shovel, which threw the corner of it between
Zaidos' feet. He stumbled and fell headlong toward the open door where
a horrible death seemed reaching for him.

But as he plunged forward, the chief, who was beside him, turned and
shoved his rake against the falling body. It was enough to change the
direction of his fall. He crashed t