“You signaled, my uncle!” He spoke in perfect English, and the man answered, briefly in their own tongue, whatever that was. “It is well,” the boy nodded. Then he turned toward Jim and about his lips was a faint smile. “It was considered best that I do not permit it to be known that I understand your language.”
“Holy Hoofs, and we were being little helpfuls trying to teach you,” Jim exploded.
“You have been most generous to us, also the Fentons.”
“Well, we’re glad to have been,” Bob replied a bit weakly.
“My uncle knows men and I too recognize those who are trustworthy, even though I am only twelve years old—”
“Only twelve. Why, you are as tall as I am.”
“Today I am twelve. Because of your great kindness I shall impart to you a little about the reason I am here, if you are interested—”
“I say, we’ve been busting to know ever since we first saw you, but you needn’t tell us a thing unless you want to,” Jim assured him.
“You need bust no longer.” Across the boy’s face a smile flashed. “Let us be seated. We shall be free from interruption.” He spoke as if he were some great personage giving an audience, but there was something about his whole bearing that made the step-brothers have perfect faith in him. They seated themselves on the ground close to him, while his uncle stood on guard.
“Maybe you better close this,” Bob suggested. “We didn’t see anyone else on the island, but you never can tell. Is that what Burnam’s after?”