“Hey! Where you going?” This last to the native boy who had suddenly leaped into the water, climbed into his boat and was making off toward the shore.
“Get him!” cried the captain to his first officer.
One of the Yucatan’s boats put off and gave chase.
But the distance was too great to overtake the fugitive, and it was soon apparent that he would make his escape.
“If we had laid hold of him we might have learned something,” said Captain Anderson. “He knows where the girls are. But it’s too late now.”
“What can we do?” demanded Mr. Willing anxiously.
“My advice,” said the captain, “is that you stay behind and put the matter in the hands of the American consul. He can tell you better what to do than I can.”
“Where did the message say to leave the money, Willing?” asked Colonel Ashton.
Mr. Willing passed him the letter.
“Nine o’clock, southeast corner San Francisco street, Tuesday. Check payable to Miguel Martinez will do. Come alone,” read the colonel.