“Thank you for all of us,” said Tom, as the two, with the lame man and his guards, seated themselves in the waiting boat; “but you mustn’t think this thing has interfered with us. It has been right in our line and strictly according to the programme.”
“How is that?” the lieutenant asked, enjoying Tom’s evident relish for the experience he had just gone through.
“Why, you see we set out not merely for sport, but with the declared purpose of seeking ‘sport and adventure.’ This thing has been sport to us, and you’ll not deny that it has had a distinct flavor of adventure in it.”
“Tom, you ought to be a sailor or a soldier,” was the officer’s only reply.
As soon as they went aboard the lieutenant ordered the lame man taken to his own cabin and the rest of the prisoners to the forehold under a strong guard. When the other boys, who were closely following, came over the side, he invited the four to go with him to his quarters.
“Stop a minute, though. Tell me just what you’ve arranged, Tom, so that I may know how to proceed.”
“Well, I’ve drawn a little information out of the lame man and got him to promise more—all he knows in fact, and that seems to be a good deal. These outlaws are only the agents of conspirators ‘higher up,’ as the phrase goes—ruffians hired by the conspirators to do the work and take the risks, while the men higher up pocket all the proceeds except the pittance allowed to their hired outlaws. The red-faced bully down there, who acts as captain of the band, seems to be an exception to all this. According to the lame man, that burly brute was the originator of the conspiracy, he and some man named Pedro Mendez.”
“What? Pedro Mendez?” interrupted the lieutenant.
“That’s the name the lame man mentioned. Do you know Pedro, or know who he is?”