“It was enough to make anybody mad,” was Hockley’s comment.
“I threatened to sue the city for false imprisonment, but they only laughed at me. So then I hunted up a vessel bound for La Guayra and finally sent the cablegram—and here I am. How have you been?”
“Oh, I’m well enough.”
“Seen anything of the city?”
“Yes, the professor has piloted us to one place and another. But it’s mighty slow looking at old buildings and documents and pictures, I didn’t come for that. I came for a good time.”
“Right you are, and a good time you shall have, so long as we are together. I promised to show you the ins and outs of Caracas and I’m going to do it,” concluded Dan Markel as he slapped Hockley on the back. “We’ll paint the town red, eh?”
CHAPTER XIII
A PLANTATION HOME IN VENEZUELA
“Guess I’ve been asleep, and guess the others have been asleep, too.”
It was Frank who uttered the words as he roused up and rubbed his eyes. Mark was still sleeping and Darry and Sam had just stirred like himself. The professor was dozing with a guide book resting on his lap. Everything around the hotel was quiet, only the dripping of the fountain breaking the stillness.
“It’s a sleepy man’s land during midday,” remarked Darry, as he arose slowly to his feet. “The air takes all the ambition out of a fellow. I don’t wonder that no business is transacted excepting during the early morning and late in the afternoon.”