"I travel to Florida once," he said, with much pride. "I show a man how to raise oranges. Stay dare two years, den come back here."
"Why didn't you remain in Florida?" queried Don.
"Wife no like it dare—she have all her family here. But now wife dead and Carlos Remora alone in de worl'."
As they had agreed to pay him well, the native provided an excellent supper, baking among other things some delicious cakes made of banana flour, with grated cocoanut on top.
There were but two rooms to his house, which was only a single story in height. He occupied one, with Danny and old Jacob, while the others of the party occupied the second.
But sleep was next to impossible. The house was certainly clean, so far as dirt was concerned, but it was alive with bugs, ants and other insects, for this portion of Porto Rico is overrun with these pests.
"Oh my!" roared Don, after he had been in bed less than an hour. "I'm being eaten up alive!"
"Ditto," came from Bob. He turned up the light. "What's this on the floor, spots of dirt? No, by gracious, they're moving! And look at the beds!"
"We've struck a bug colony!" put in Dick. "I reckon we're in for it for the balance of this night."
"I'm going outside and sleep on the ground," announced Leander. "If I stay here I'll get the nightmare, sure. Ugh!" And slipping on his trousers, he made a dash for the open air, and the others followed. Soon the owner of the house was aroused, but he could do nothing for them.