Bob saw it was of no use to try to get out of the dungeon. It was built partially underground, the walls were of stone and the door a massive wooden one, while the single window was heavily barred. It was hot in the small cell, and Bob suffered very much. But he tried to keep up a brave heart.
One day he heard voices outside of the dungeon window. He listened intently and found that Noddy and Vasco were talking. Vasco, of necessity, had to speak English in talking with Noddy, who understood only a little Spanish.
“Have you got the money yet?” asked Noddy.
“No; and I think we never will get it,” replied Vasco, angrily. “I don’t believe the boy is the son of a rich banker at all. It’s another one of your wild dreams, just like the gold mine the crazy professor was going to locate.”
“Bob’s father is rich,” maintained Noddy. “It ain’t my fault that he won’t send the cash.”
“Well, it’s your fault for getting me into this muss,” went on Vasco, “and it’ll be your fault if we don’t get some money pretty soon. The men are mad and I won’t be able to manage ’em in a few days. They blame it all on you, so you’d better look out!”
“Do you suppose they—they will ki-kill me?” faltered Noddy.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” said Vasco, coldly.
At that instant Bob heard some one come galloping up on a horse. It seemed to be a messenger, for he heard the steed come to a stop, while a man jumped down and began talking rapidly in Spanish.