The left hand of Perez caught at his throat. The knife trembled with the tense strength of the arm that wielded it. But it was not driven home. "Will you listen to me?" said Silver. Juan Perez thrust himself back to arm's length. The gringo was in his power. The point of that knife could find the life with a single slight gesture. But though the Mexican was half mad with shame, there was manliness in him that made it impossible to strike an unresisting enemy. "Now, gringo-now, dog," he groaned. "Take your gun and fight me man to man!" "We are serving the same master, Juan Perez," said Silver. "Will he gain very much if we kill one another? The Drummons will laugh; they will be the ones to gain." "You tore me from my horse in the town; you have beaten me senseless and left me in your own prison; and the people are laughing at me!" cried Juan Perez. "And you," said Silver, "have thrown me into the slime of a dark cellar, and tossed my bread into the foul water, and left me there to starve and go mad in the dark.
