Their astonishment must have reflected itself on their faces, for, with a light laugh, the white-ducked individual burst forth with explanations. On account of the revolution his waiters had all left—been impressed into the army, he explained, so he had to do the waiting himself. Anyhow, it was the off season, so he did not so much mind. Where were the revolutionists? Oh, quien sabe? Over in the mountains somewhere. The mountains acted as a natural barrier to Boca del Sierras, he was happy to say, and so long as the brave government troops could keep the insurgents on the other side of the range all would be well.
Having taken the orders, he hurried away. While he was gone the boys’ talk reverted to various topics, when suddenly Herc, who had been gazing at the harbor below them, exclaimed:
“Why, this is the place the Donna Mercedes sailed from.”
“So it is,” responded Ned, “and, by the way, that reminds me, Stanley, that I promised to show you those papers before I handed them over to Lieutenant Timmons.”
“Good gracious! haven’t you done that yet?” demanded Herc.
“Haven’t had an opportunity to,” rejoined Ned. “Unfortunately, in the service you can’t walk up to an officer and say, ‘I’d like a word with you.’”
“Like our friend in Brooklyn,” grinned Herc, recalling the dark-skinned man, Senor Charbonde.
“Exactly,” laughed Ned. The lad dived into his blouse for the papers from the Donna Mercedes. Since that night in the boat, when for a time it seemed that they were all doomed, the boys had struck up a great friendship with Stanley, who was an older man than either of them, and had seen many years of service in the navy. Like many another man of superior intelligence and character, he had had no opportunity to rise, either through lack of interest or ill luck, and was still a boatswain’s mate. Of his former life the boys knew little. But with the readiness of youth to form warm friendships, they had struck up one with this man and had already told him of their discovery on board the Donna Mercedes. Not till that moment, however, had an opportunity presented itself to consult him about the papers. As Stanley knew Spanish pretty fluently both boys felt that he would be an invaluable aid in revealing to them what secret—if any—the papers held.
Just as Stanley laid his big, brown paw on the bundle of faded documents the polite waiter pro tem. of the Villa Espenza appeared, carrying the soda on a silver tray. He set it down with a bow and flourish, and accepted payment with an indifferent air. His sharp, dark eyes, however, in the roaming glance they had taken over the table, had noted the papers which Stanley had just appropriated. An expression of deep interest, which, however, he succeeded in masking from the boys, came into his face as he did so. Clearly the unctuous proprietor of the Villa Espenza was in deep thought as, with another bow and flourish, he moved away.