“Very well,” agreed Nat.
Leaving the wheel in charge of the rubicund-headed Mr. Tubbs, who was a capable steersman—indeed, there didn’t seem to be much he couldn’t do—the boys withdrew to Ding-dong’s domain—to wit, the engine room.
They were below for about fifteen minutes.
When they reappeared, Nat’s face bore a radiant expression. He walked straight up to the scientist, who was gazing at the sea with an abstracted look as he studied the various forms of life that were visible in the clear water.
“Well?” he asked, facing around, clearly anxious for “the verdict.”
“Well,” repeated Nat with a smile, which was strangely at variance with his words, “I regret to report that we cannot undertake the commission you proposed——”
“What! You cannot? But I——”
“That is,” continued Nat, “for any compensation. But we will agree to land you and your companion at the port you desire, and further than that, we will, from that time, place ourselves under your orders in the hunt for the lost city.”
As Nat spoke these words, the dignified man of science actually capered about, and snapped his bony fingers in huge delight.
As for Mr. Tubbs, he gave a wild “Hurr-oo!” of delight.