Chapter Twenty Five.
A tropic river.
Strict watch was set, no lights were shown, and a quiet, uneventful night was passed, the boys sleeping so hard that it was with some difficulty that they were awakened, to start up wondering that it was day.
“Why,” cried Fitz, “I feel as if I had only just lain down.”
It proved, though, that they had each had nine hours’ solid sleep, and after a hasty breakfast, preparations were made for ascending the river. The men were armed, the largest boat lowered, and Fitz hung about watching eagerly all that was going on; but, too proud to ask questions, he waited to see how matters would shape themselves.
As he expected, Poole came to him after a time, and in answer to the middy’s questioning looks said eagerly—
“The Don’s hacienda is right up this river somewhere, and the dad is going up in a boat with about half the lads, to see how the land lies, while old Burgess stops at home and takes care of the Teal. And I suppose he will have to take care of you too, you being a prisoner who don’t take any interest in what we do. What do you think?”
“Think? That I shouldn’t do any harm if I came with you, should I?”