“Then I’m afraid,” began Chubby, shaking his head slowly, “that I couldn’t think of considering your proposition, however wonderful it might be. I’m——”
“It’s no use,” laughed Bob. “A heavy eater doesn’t make an explorer.”
Bob and the naturalist were finally persuaded to follow the fat youth’s suggestion and get a “bite” to eat. Then they continued their sightseeing.
Thus the remainder of the day passed, and they began to look about for a place to spend the night. Chubby resolved to remain with his newly found friends as long as the latter stayed in Cartagena. Then, he told them, he would take a boat to the United States.
The three Americans engaged a small room in a boarding house that was owned by a Canadian. Although it was not the utmost in comfort, they were glad to throw themselves on the hard bed to retire.
They passed a restful night, however, awaking late the next morning.
“What shall we do until train time?” asked Bob, preparing to leave the room.
“Look around some more, I suppose,” Chubby said. “In this country you can always find something you haven’t seen before. There’s a lot that’s funny, too. I’ve been laughing a year at the natives.”
“Maybe they’ve been laughing at you,” Bob thought to himself, but said nothing. The fat little fellow would indeed provoke a smile from many.