“Ssh.” Don Ferdinand put his finger to his lips. “Too late,” he said, low-voiced. “He has escaped me. But let us not talk about it here. Come, get into my car. But first I’ll pay this gentleman for his taxi,” he said, pulling out a wallet. “Only,” he added glaring at Captain Cornell, “he is a violent man. He put a revolver into my face and commanded me to order my driver to return here.”
“Sorry,” apologized the flyer. Remembering his conversation with Jack at the ranch regarding Don Ferdinand and his trouble at the mine with “that devil Ramirez,” he also was putting two and two together out of the conversation between the old aristocrat and Jack.
“Oh, I say, you two must be friends,” declared Jack, proceeding to introduce them. “As for the damage to the taxi—” And leaving the sentence unfinished, he reached for his own wallet.
But Don Ferdinand forestalled him. He thrust into the jehu’s hands a sheaf of bills the size of which made the latter’s eyes bulge.
“Is that sufficient?” he snapped in English.
The taxi bandit made a grotesque bow.
“For that price,” he said, “the ol’ boat’s yourn.”
Don Ferdinand never even smiled, but beckoning the four young fellows to follow, climbed into his car. Bob and Frank hung back, whispering. Then, just as Jack was about to enter behind Don Ferdinand, they halted him.
“Say, Jack, we haven’t seen anything yet of the town,” explained Frank. “And we’d like to. No use running away when we just came. As for the taxi we can always get another to take us back across the Bridge, I guess. Explain to Don Ferdinand, and then let the four of us knock around as we intended to do.”
Jack considered, turning to Captain Cornell with a question in his eyes. The latter nodded. He was young enough to enjoy a sightseeing tour and, since they had all escaped unscathed from the crash, saw no reason to return with their original purpose unfulfilled.