“Certainly,” answered Bob, his wonder continuing to grow.
The don carried a canvas bag whose contents jingled musically with every movement. While Bob and Dick escorted their caller below, those on the sailboat hauled in the plank and stood off toward the shore.
Speake, Gaines, and Clackett were still busy stowing the supplies and getting the Grampus shipshape below decks. The two boys and their guest made themselves comfortable in the periscope room.
Don Ramon, as Bob looked at him now for the first time, had the appearance of a courtly gentleman. He was swarthy, well dressed, and his dark eyes, as they stared about him curiously, looked like points of polished jet.
The don took a cardcase from his pocket and extracted a square of pasteboard bearing the coat of arms of his native country, his name and the information that he was Spanish consul at Belize. He handed the card to Bob, who, in turn, passed it along to Dick.
“We have heard a good deal about you, don,” remarked Bob, “but this is the first time we have ever met.”
“And I have heard much about you,” was the answer, in most gracious tones; “very much to your credit. The recent performance of the Grampus made a deep impression upon me, and that is why I am here to-night. If you wish, you can render a great service to the cause of right and justice; possibly it hangs upon you to terminate the uprising in the unhappy little republic that lies to the south.”
Bob and Dick were all interest on the moment.
“What do you mean, don?” asked Bob.