CHAPTER XVII.
A SERIOUS SERENADE.
While Jordan was preparing his telegraphic report, Bob and his chums started in quest of lodgings in the town. They finally found rooms in a small hotel, dignified by the name of International, and there they established their temporary headquarters and rested for several days.
One evening, however, Carl, who sometimes was inclined to be sentimental and romantic, borrowed a guitar from a Spanish waiter at the hotel, and went out to serenade Ysabel Sixty, in true Spanish fashion.
He managed to escape, unnoticed by either Bob or Dick, and without confiding his purpose to them; so, well pleased with himself, he strolled on through the quiet streets.
It was a rare evening in old Belize. The moon was like a big yellow topaz pinned to a cushion of blue-black velvet, and around it lay the stars like scattered diamonds. Carl could not see the moon or stars very distinctly, for it was so beastly hot that the perspiration trickled into his eyes and half blinded him.
The zephyrs, laden with spicy fragrance from orange groves and pineapple fields, breathed softly through the palms; but Carl could not enjoy the zephyrs, for a cloud of mosquitoes was pestering him.
The house before which Carl paused was a whitewashed bungalow. Between the bungalow and the street ran a high brick wall. The iron gate leading into the yard was locked, and Carl climbed the wall.
Carl was not very well acquainted with the lay of the land in Belize. By an error of judgment he had got into the wrong yard, and by another conspiracy of circumstances he began pouring out his enraptured soul under the window of a room in which Captain Reginald Pierce, of the local constabulary, was trying to sleep. Miss Sixty was staying with relatives a block farther on, around the corner of the next street.
Utterly unaware of his mistake, Carl fought the discomforts of his situation and heroically burst into song.
Carl knew how to play the guitar, for he had once been a member of a knockabout musical team, and he could get music out of anything from a set of sleigh bells to a steam calliope. If he had been able to use his voice as well as he used the guitar, Captain Reginald Pierce would probably have slept on or even have been lulled into deeper slumber; but there were flaws in Carl’s youthful baritone.