At present I am the first lieutenant in
the band of the guerilla chief who is usually known as Manuelo,
'The Smiler.' "
My word, I clapped my hand to the place where my pistol should
have been, but the man only smiled at the gesture.
"I am his first lieutenant, but I am also his deadly enemy," said
he. He slipped off his jacket and pulled up his shirt as he
spoke. "Look at this!" he cried, and he turned upon me a back
which was all scored and lacerated with red and purple weals.
"This is what 'The Smiler' has done to me, a man with the noblest
blood of Portugal in my veins. What I will do to 'The Smiler'
you have still to see."
There was such fury in his eyes and in the grin of his white
teeth that I could no longer doubt his truth, with that clotted
and oozing back to corroborate his words.
"I have ten men sworn to stand by me," said he. "In a few days I
hope to join your army, when I have done my work here. In the
meanwhile--" A strange change came over his face, and he
suddenly slung his musket to the front: "Hold up your hands, you
French hound!" he yelled.
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