“Some more drousers is kevite imbortant mit me,” insisted Carl.
Rather than waste time arguing, Don Ramon flung off into a neighboring room. He returned presently with a pair of white duck trousers, and Carl climbed into them. They were too long and too narrow, but the Dutch boy contrived to make them serve.
“Now,” said Carl, “get der key of der front gate und lead der vay.”
The don took a key from the drawer of the table.
“Come,” said he, hurrying from the door.
“Id’s a funny bizness,” remarked Carl, following, “dot dis Carlos feller vouldt leaf der door oben und lock der gate.”
“The gate locks itself when it is closed,” explained the don.
“I don’d t’ink, anyvay, dere is mooch use vorryin’ aboudt der boat,” proceeded Carl, as the don unlocked the gate. “Dot Carlos feller vill haf his hants full pulling der vool ofer Bob Steele’s eyes.”
“You do not know Carlos as well as I,” answered Don Ramon ominously. “He is plausible, he has many tricks, and then he is impersonating me! Bob Steele must know me by name, although I have not the pleasure of his personal acquaintance. I am fearing the worst, ah, yes, the worst!”
The gate clanged behind them and the don and Carl raced for the International Hotel. Carl had not seen either of his chums at supper, and he had not spent much time looking for them. The serenade had been uppermost in Carl’s mind, and he had been afraid Bob or Dick might propose something that would interfere with his plans.