Every muscle in it was drawn, and from the tightened lips
streamed such whispered curses as the girl never before had heard.
Next him stood the hermit, solid and still, but with a queer
spreading pallor under his tan. In front of them Sherwen was
crouched, scowlingly alert. The expression of Mr. Brewster and
Carroll, neither of whom understood Spanish, betokened watchful
puzzlement.
Enlightenment burst upon them the next minute. From the motley
crowd below rose a snarl of laughter and savage jeering, the
object of which was unmistakable.
"By G--d!" cried Mr. Brewster, straightening up and grasping the
railing. "They're insulting the flag!"
"I've left my pistol!" muttered Carroll, white-lipped. "I've left
my pistol!"
Polly Brewster's hand flew to her belt.
She drew out the automatic and held it toward the Southerner. But
it was not Carroll's hand that met hers; it was the Unspeakable
Perk's.
"No," said he, and he flung the weapon back of him into the patio.
"Oh! Oh!" cried the girl. "You unspeakable coward!"
Carroll jumped forward, but Sherwen was equally quick. He
interposed his slight frame.
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