With another deep bow, he withdrew.
We turned, mystified, to Old Barlow. He was strangely nervous.
“Pack your suit-cases and beat it!” he advised. “I know these devils—polite as they can be, and damned likeable, but don’t you trust them. You heard him say, ‘Tell no one!’ He’ll take you away in a car, and not a soul on earth will ever see you again, or learn what’s happened to you. So beat it just as fast as you can!”
We packed our suit-cases. We bade each other farewell. Eustace was determined to go back to Manzanillo, and catch a boat to San Francisco. I was determined to go to Vera Cruz, catch a boat for Cuba, and see something more of Latin America before I returned home. Only one thing was certain. The expedition had reached a temporary halt.
CHAPTER IX
INTERMISSION
I
There was nothing thrilling about my escape from Mexico. I simply rode down the railway to Vera Cruz, boarded a steamer without molestation, and sailed away.
The reflection that I was now a fugitive gave me a sense of international importance. It did seem a trifle uncomplimentary on the part of the Mexican government that no one sought to interfere with my departure. Still, there are some little slights that one is willing to overlook, especially if one be a fugitive.
II
Fellow travelers were always interested in my story.