The two men started off, Joanne following close at their heels. She was sure in spite of what the officer said that there was something afoot which concerned the pony even though there might be nothing the matter with his health.
The officer led the way to the captain’s room where, with eyes half frightened, half defiant, stood a begrimed, frowsy, half-clad little lad, mumbling out replies to the captain’s questions.
The captain arose as his visitors came in. “Good-morning, doctor,” he said. “Sorry to trouble you, but we thought you might be able to help us out of a little difficulty. This your granddaughter?”
“My granddaughter, Joanne.”
The captain held out a hearty hand. “Sit down, won’t you?” he said, yielding his chair to Joanne. “I’ve no doubt you’ll be interested in this affair, too. One of our men,” he went on, addressing himself to Dr. Selden, “discovered this boy this morning. He had stowed himself away somewhere in the hold. Do you happen to know him? You speak Spanish, probably.”
“To a certain extent,” Dr. Selden replied looking the lad over critically. “What is your name, muchacho?” he asked in the language mentioned.
“Pablo Lopez,” returned the boy.
“Son of Paulino Lopez?”
“Si, señor.”
The doctor nodded. “Yes, I remember; you are the boy I treated. Why are you here? Why have you run away from home?”