“They’ll be Americans,” said Frank. “Uncle Sam’s flag is wide and broad enough to cover them all, if they care to come under the folds of Old Glory.”
At last came the hour when Enrique Morano’s carriage could be expected and soon a fine turnout hove into sight, drawn by a team of white horses.
“That’s as fine a carriage as any in Central Park,” said Frank.
“It is probably of United States manufacture,” answered the professor. “We export a great number of vehicles to South America.”
“Evidently they appreciate good horseflesh,” put in Mark. “Here come a couple of horsemen now. The town is beginning to wake up.”
The horsemen dashed by in a spirited manner, clad in white with broad sashes at their waists, and wearing sweeping hats which flapped gracefully in the warm wind. In the rear rode an attendant, carrying a small hamper filled with refreshments.
As Hockley was not at hand, the professor asked the driver of the carriage to wait a little, while he took a look around the square. But the youth was nowhere to be seen and Professor Strong came back looking somewhat worried.
“He knew when we were to leave,” he said. “I can’t understand this.”
“Oh, Hockley takes his time about everything,” put in Sam. “He said he was down here for pleasure, and that he was going to suit himself.”
“He has no right to keep the whole party waiting,” answered the professor briefly. He said no more, but his eyes showed that his mind was busy.