After a bath at the hotel he sought Little and reported his achievement.
"Good work!" chuckled his friend. Then Little whispered: "And who d 'ye suppose Leyden is, after all?"
"Search me," said Barry, his eyes on a group of men along the veranda. "Who?"
"Your coolie kicker of Solo!"
A flash of joy lighted Barry's bronzed face, to be shaded in a moment.
"That's the best news in months, Little. But Gosh! If I'd known, I could just as easily have ripped out another ten fathom of caulking!"
As he spoke, Barry leaned forward suddenly. The group of men along the veranda had drawn his attention by their noisy laughter and greetings, and now he saw his man of Solo appear in their midst. Leyden was flushed and in high good humor; that he was hail fellow well met was obvious. He flung himself into a long cane chair and plunged into a recital that induced a gale of merriment in his listeners. Barry's eyes glittered like points of flame and bored into Leyden's back as if to force notice.
"Go easy, Jack," warned Little, sensing trouble. "Don't start a fuss."
"Shut up!" growled Barry, holding his gaze. "I won't start anything. I'll make him start something though; then I'll sail into him like a rat up a pump!"