And, laughing and jollying, Frank pushed Jack to the table, and in similar fashion rounded up Ferdinand, then tumbled the snoring Bob to the floor, whereat Pedro and Carlos chuckled, and under the spell of his geniality, a measure of confidence and cheer was restored to the group.
As they were in the midst of eating, the key once more grated in the lock and Jack, with an eager cry, sprang toward the door, Ferdinand a close second. Nor were they disappointed, for Mr. Hampton and Don Ernesto were ushered in by the guard.
“Well boys, did you think we were never going to return?” asked Mr. Hampton, cheerfully. A glance at Jack had revealed to him the worry in his son’s face.
A chorus of replies answered.
“Jack would have it that the pair of you were cut up in mince meat to be fed to the Inca,” said Frank, after the chorus had died down. “But I told him the Inca was probably feeding out of your hand.”
“Not quite that,” said Mr. Hampton. “But we are hungry. Let us have a minute’s chance to eat a bit, and then we’ll tell you what happened.”
The boys were eager to hear, but forebore until it appeared Mr. Hampton and Don Ernesto had satisfied their appetites. Then the dishes were pushed to one end of the table and, standing about the other end, upon which reposed the lamp, or leaning upon it, for there were no chairs in the apartment, they began to ply the two older men with questions.
“What was it like?”
“Could they all speak Spanish?”
“What did they ask you?”