“Wait a minute, Dad. Give me a chance to get my breath. You must hear this.”
The two older men paused, expectant. Presently Jack recovered sufficiently to attempt an explanation.
“Frank there,” he said, pointing to his still quaking comrade. And then he explained what Frank had proposed.
“I hope we won’t give you offense, Don Ernesto,” he said, with quick compunction.
The latter, however, was a jolly sort. And he was struck with the originality of the idea. With a comical gesture he put his hand to his head, removed his toupee and held it aloft while Mr. Hampton, seeing what he was about, pulled a long face and made several mysterious passes before him.
They had moved close to the table and stood revealed in the light of the rekindled lamp.
A wild shriek came from the doorway. They swung about startled, Don Ernesto still holding his toupee aloft. The shriek brought Bob and Ferdinand to the floor. Even Carlos and Pedro sprang upright on their couch.
“Great guns, I forgot the jailer was sitting over there,” said Mr. Hampton. “Look at him.”
“Hurray,” cried Frank. “It worked.”
“What do you mean? What worked?”