The officer hesitated, then: “I see no reason why you cannot,” with a smile. “Jump in.”
The girls obeyed and a few moments later were being rowed toward the not-far-distant shore. There the boat drew up at the wharf, and, signalling to the girls to accompany him if they so desired, the officer leaped lightly ashore and lent them a helping hand. The sailors were ordered to await his return.
“Where are you going?” asked Shirley.
“American consulate,” was the reply. “There has been some trouble here, and Captain Anderson has sent me to find out what it's all about.”
At the consulate Shirley and Mabel remained outside, while the first officer was closeted with the consul.
“We might as well walk around a bit,” Shirley decided. “There is no telling how long he may remain there.”
Mabel was nothing loath, and they made their way to the street. Here they walked along slowly, looking curiously at the native Nicaraguans and the queer buildings, all of old Spanish architecture and design.
“None of this for me,” was Shirley’s decision half an hour later.
“Nor me,” agreed Mabel. “I want to live in civilization.”
Unconsciously the girls had wandered further from the consulate than they realized, and as they were on the point of turning back Mabel caught sight of a familiar figure.