“Some kind of trouble!” laughed Donald. “Several kinds of trouble would come nearer hitting it.”
“You don’t say so!” and the captain opened his eyes wide.
“Indeed we do,” said Billie.
“Then I’m even more glad to see you,” chuckled Captain Peak. “Suppose you come into the hotel and tell me about it.”
Giving their horses to the mozo, the boys accepted the captain’s invitation; but, after a few words, which indicated that the story was to be a long one, he insisted that its recital be postponed until they had eaten their supper. The suggestion was promptly seconded by Billie, who declared emphatically that the story could wait, but that the supper could not.
If it were not that Captain Peak might be kept waiting too long, it would be interesting to tell you
what and how much Billie ate at that meal. He has since declared it was the greatest he ever ate—which is a most remarkable statement, and easily classes it as “some supper.”
But the longest meal eventually comes to an end, and then the boys sat down with Captain Peak and gave him a detailed account of their happenings from the time they left him a week before up to their return.
“I was sure I was making no mistake when I sent you out,” he declared, when the story was finished. “You evidently stumbled right into the very band I have been looking for. Of course I have heard something of the capture from across the river, the captain of the rurales having given out the information. Naturally he took all the credit, and no mention was made of you boys, which,” continued Captain Peak, after a minute’s reflection, “is a good thing, seeing that the adventure is only just begun.”
“Only just begun!” exclaimed Billie. “I was in hopes we were near the end.”