“Too often.”
“It must be an interesting country.”
“Lousy,” the captain growled. “Three areas—coastal, the sierra region and the heavily forested slopes that lead to the Amazonian plains. Rain, heat, freezing cold. Lima, the capital, ain’t so bad. They ought to chuck the rest of the country into the Pacific.”
“Oh, it can’t be that bad,” Ken protested. “I hope not, because we’re going there with Mr. Livingston.”
Captain Carter laid aside his menu and stared directly at Ken. In that unguarded moment, concern and hostility were reflected in his lined face.
“You mean I got to nursemaid a bunch of kids?” he demanded.
“That’s an unflattering way of putting it,” Ken replied. “We’ve never been to Peru, but we’re not softies.”
“I’ll vouch for that,” said a voice directly behind the captain.
Unnoticed, Mr. Livingston had crossed the terrace to the table.
“Oh, here you are!” exclaimed Jack in relief. “We couldn’t find you anywhere, Mr. Livingston.”