Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard
tion. The doctor, pathetically enough, believed that he had forfeited the right to be indignant with any one—for anything. It was simple dread. Had the fellow heard his story by some chance? If so, there was an end of his usefulness in that direction. The indispensable man escaped his influence because of that indelible blot which made him fit for dirty work. A feeling as of sickness came upon him. He would have given anything to know, but he dared not clear up the point. The fanaticism of his devotion, fed on the sense of his abasement, hardened his heart in sadness and scorn.
"Why not, indeed?" he re-echoed sardonically. "Then the safe thing for you is to kill me on the spot. I would defend myself. But you may just as well know I am going about unarmed."
"For Dios!" said the capataz, passionately. "You find people are all alike. All dangerous. All betrayers of the poor who are your dogs."
"You do not understand—" began the doctor, slowly.
"I understand you all!" cried the other, with a violent movement as shadowy to the doctor's eyes as the persistent immobility of the late Señor Hirsch. "A poor man among you has got to look after himself. I say that you do not care for those that serve you. Look at me! After all these years, suddenly, here I find myself like one of these curs that bark outside the walls—without a kennel or a dry bone for my teeth. Caramba!" But he relented with a contemptuous fairness. "Of course," he went on, quietly, "I do not suppose that you would hasten to give me up to Sotillo.
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