CHAPTER XXXVI.
JUANITA.
The sun is creeping up the range of hills when Ashley
and Navarro leave the Hotel Royal and set forth at a
smart pace for the meeting with Capt. Raymon Huerta.
Ashley is in his usual good spirits, and the enlivening
influence of his society is appreciated by Navarro, whose
thoughts are plainly of a dejected nature.
Half a mile or more down the beach that stretches east of the city three men are in waiting. Two of them are Capt. Huerta and Senor Cardena; the third is evidently a surgeon.
The preliminaries for the exchange of shots are quickly arranged. Ashley, with the fifty-yards range in mind, proposes the comfortable distance of twenty-five paces, and Cardena assents. Then the revolvers are handed out and carefully scrutinized, and Huerta and Navarro face each other on the sands.
"How's your nerve, old man?" Ashley asks Navarro, as he gives the latter's hand an encouraging squeeze.
"Steady," is the response, in low tones.
"Good."
"Remember the letter," admonishes Navarro, and as Ashley nods and steps back the duelists signal that they are ready.
A minute later two shots startle into flight a flock of sea gulls that have been hovering along the shore.
With the echoes Capt. Huerta staggers and is immediately taken in charge by the watchful Cardena and the medico.
"Not scratched, eh?" Ashley inquires of Navarro.
"No; but the lead passed close enough for comfort. Unless my aim was poor, Huerta is not seriously hurt. To have killed him would have been to invite serious entanglement."
Nor is the Spanish captain in any immediate danger
