Nor did he content himself with declaring his guiltlessness of the crime imputed to him, but began in his turn to menace his captor and accuser, loading the latter with the bitterest upbraidings. "Vat ish it, Mishter Vild?" inquired Mendez. She blew on the hand cannon and grabbed her bag of gunpowder. “Well!” she declared good-humouredly. The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing.
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