The stranger stepped out, and it seemed Francis had previously known him. It was a replica of himself!
“Talk!” the stranger sneered, throwing down his pistol and drawing a knife. “Now we’ll just cut off your ears, and maybe scalp you.”
“Gee! Let’s wrestle.” Francis retorted.
“I want your ears,” the stranger answered pleasantly, as he slowly advanced.
“Sure. The man who wins gets the other fellow’s ears.”
“Agreed.” The young man in the canvas trousers sheathed his knife.
They began to fight. Francis was winning, but the stranger planted his foot in Francis’ abdomen. In a moment Francis was lying on his back.
“Why do you wear a mustache?” the stranger muttered.
“Go on and cut my ears,” Francis gasped. “The ears are yours, but the mustache is mine.”
“As for your ears, keep them. I never intended to cut them off. Get up and get out of here. And don’t come here again!”
In greater disgust than ever, Francis turned down to the beach toward his canoe.
“Say, will you leave your card?” the victor called after him.
“My name’s Morgan, that’s enough,” Francis answered.
“Really? No wonder we look alike. Listen,” the stranger said. “I am a Morgan, too.”
“My first name is Francis,” Francis returned. “And yours?”
“Henry. We must be remote cousins[33] or something or other. What are you doing here? As for me, I am looking for the old Morgan’s treasure.”
“So am I,” said Francis, extending his hand.
Henry rowed off to the Angelique with orders from his visitor to the skipper to stay at anchor. Francis slept until late in the morning of the following day.
“Let me tell you an interesting story,” Francis said to Henry. “Day before yesterday, I rowed ashore over on the mainland. The moment I landed, the prettiest girl in the world dragged me away into the jungle. I thought she was going to eat me or marry me. I didn’t know which. Then she passed uncomplimentary remarks on my mustache and pushed me back to the boat with a revolver. She told me never come back.”
“Where on the mainland was this?” Henry demanded.
“The other end of Chiriqui Lagoon,” Francis replied. “It was the ground of the Solano family, I learned; and they are a tough family. But I haven’t told you all. Listen. First she dragged me into the jungle and insulted my mustache; next she chased me to the boat with a drawn revolver; and then she wanted to know why I didn’t kiss her.”
“And did you?” Henry demanded.
“What could a poor stranger in a strange land do? The girl was very pretty.”
“Oh, my God! That was Leoncia![34]” Henry said angrily.
“What if it was Leoncia? Or Mercedes? Or Dolores? Can’t a fellow kiss a pretty girl?”
“You see, this pretty girl is engaged to marry the ruffian in the dirty canvas pants!”
“She took me for you,[35]” Francis said. “And your Leoncia pulled her little revolver on a long-bearded old fellow who wanted to kill me.”
“It was her father, old Enrico[36] himself,” Henry exclaimed. “And the other chaps were her brothers.”
“By the way, Henry, since they all thought it was you, and not I, why did they want to kill you?”
Henry looked at him a moment, and then answered.
“I quarreled with her uncle. He was her father’s youngest brother.”
“Was?” interrupted Francis.
“Was, I said,” Henry nodded. “He isn’t now. His name was Alfaro Solano,[37] and one day we quarreled. It was in the little town over there
