"We're from the Essex," Phil replied, and as he spoke the stranger came toward us.
"Can you speak Spanish?" he asked; whereat I replied glibly:—
"Not a word, and more's the pity, else we might have had companions in our sight-seeing."
"If that's all you're wanting, come with me. I'll show you a good time."
"Do you live here?" I asked, fancying that he spoke like one lately from England.
"Yes, for the time being; and since I have nothing better to do, suppose we travel together."
Every person in the town had been so friendly toward us that we had no reason to suspect evil, and even though we had considered the possibility that any one was wickedly disposed, why should harm come to us who were of so little importance?
Phil was so delighted at the idea of making a friend in this place where almost nothing but Spanish was spoken, that he accepted the proposition without delay, and at once we three set off in company.
Oliver Benson was the name of this friendly appearing lad, as we soon learned; and before we had been together half an hour he knew very nearly as much as we ourselves concerning our position and life aboard the Essex.