“I thought I was big,” Captain Cornell said to Bob, “but you’re bigger. Certainly the coat isn’t too tight.” And he flexed his arms. “Well, here we are.”
As he spoke the taxi nosed out upon the bridge, going at a snail’s pace and stopping alongside of the first official. A number of other similar stops were made, in order to satisfy a variety of officials, both American and Mexican. Then they rolled off upon a narrow, rough, unpaved street lined with little saloons. They were open-front establishments, and from them came a glare of light and a blare of noise. Up and down the sidewalks, under wooden canopies, pushed and surged a noisy crowd. Taxis and private cars sped recklessly up and down or shot from side streets at dizzying speed.
“Whew,” said Jack, “you know you’re in a foreign country all right.”
“Good-bye, Uncle Sam,” cried Bob gaily, looking back and waving his hand. Then a cry of alarm burst from his throat, he leaped to his feet, and the next moment was hurled into Jack’s lap as the taxi was struck from the rear with a sickening crash and went careening drunkenly across the uneven roadway to end up against an iron pillar supporting a sidewalk canopy.
CHAPTER VII.
DON FERDINAND AGAIN.
Captain Cornell was first to emerge from the taxi which had lost its left front wheel in the impact against the pole and canted downward like a ship sinking by the head. He emerged as if shot from a cannon, for the crazy door had been wrenched open by the shock, and he had been tossed through the aperture. Alighting on hands and knees, he quickly got to his feet and turned to see how his companions fared.
“Anybody hurt?” he sang out, peering inside.
From the heap, three muffled voices filled with various degrees of mirth answered that their owners were not in desperate straits, and he experienced a sense of relief. Any or all of his charges well might have been seriously injured. But as he saw them struggling to untangle themselves, he grinned through a split lip caused by his face brushing the sidewalk.
“Lucky for me,” he thought. “Wouldn’t have dared face their fathers.”
Then he felt someone plucking his sleeve and whirled about. A mixed crowd of Mexicans and tourists drawn by the crash hemmed him in, and over the heads of the crowd he could see several be-spangled dance hall girls from a nearby resort standing on tiptoe to behold.