“I doubt that would be our way, captain. There are methods of handling a situation that do not involve force.”
“Yeah? Well, give me my two fists or a round of ammunition!” Captain Carter had finished his dinner. He shoved back his chair. “I’ll be going now,” he announced. “My job is to get your supplies through to Cuertos on time. The Shark will be there. Just don’t come cryin’ to me when the going gets rough!”
With barely a nod to the four Scouts, the seaman left the terrace. Without comment, Mr. Livingston settled the bill for all the dinners.
“Pleasant character,” Jack remarked. “Tough as an old lanyard knot!”
“I wonder where Mr. Monahan found him?” speculated Ken.
“Captain Carter introduced himself—sold the expedition, so to speak. He knows Peru thoroughly.”
“He certainly took a dislike to us,” Jack commented. “Not that I blame him too much.”
War himself related to Mr. Livingston how he had mistaken the captain for a thief.
“I sure am sorry I jumped him the way I did,” he said contritely. “I guess I’m in the doghouse now.”
“No such thing,” the Scout leader smiled. “You acted a bit impulsively, without thinking through the situation. Next time you’ll react more wisely.”