CHAPTER XX.
SPANISH BLOODHOUNDS AND ENGLISH MASTIFFS "Full seven long hours in all men's sight This fight endured sore, Until our men so feeble grew, That they could fight no more.
And then upon dead horses Full savorly they fed, And drank the puddle water, They could no better get.
"When they had fed so freely They kneeled on the ground, And gave God thanks devoutly for The favor they had found; Then beating up their colors, The fight they did renew; And turning to the Spaniards, A thousand more they slew." The Brave Lord Willoughby.

1586.
When the sun leaped up the next morning, and the tropic light flashed suddenly into the tropic day, Amyas was pacing the deck, with dishevelled hair and torn clothes, his eyes red with rage and weeping, his heart full--how can I describe it?
Picture it to yourselves, picture it to yourselves, you who have ever lost a brother; and you who have not, thank God that you know nothing of his agony.

Full of impossible projects, he strode and staggered up and down, as the ship thrashed close-hauled through the rolling seas.

He would go back and burn the villa.

He would take Guayra, and have the life of every man in it in return for his brother's.