“You must remember that their 'breakfast,’ as they call it, is eaten in the cool of the morning and usually only consists of coffee and fruit,” said Captain Sparhawk.
A groan from the dyspeptic Mr. Jukes, who had eaten a hearty meal, was followed soon after by the breaking up of the party. There was much to be attended to, but Captain Sparhawk said it would be useless to try to transact business till the late afternoon when the sea breeze sprung up. The interval between riz-tavel and that hour he said was set aside for sleeping, and nobody ever dreamed of interfering with the custom. In fact, he would have found nobody to transact business with.
He warned the boys against walking about in the scorchingly hot afternoon sun also, as it was said to induce fevers. There was nothing left for them to do, therefore, but to pass the afternoon in their rooms, although they would have preferred exploring the town.
When they came down again they found Donald Judson in the lobby. He appeared very disconsolate. He said that no ships for American ports would call at the port for a long time.
“I guess I’m stuck here for the rest of my life,” he complained, and then made a sudden suggestion.
“Say, why can’t you take me with you on that expedition?” he asked, for the boys had told him something about the object of their presence in New Guinea.
“Um—er—I don’t know that Mr. Jukes wants anybody else along,” hesitated Jack.
“I’d work hard and do anything I was told to,” said Donald pleadingly. “Won’t you ask him about it? It’s awful to be stuck here like a bump on a log.”
“Well, perhaps we might see about it,” relented Jack, really feeling sorry for the unhappy plight of their former enemy, mean and despicable as he had proved himself to have been in the past.
“Thanks, awfully,” exclaimed Donald, gratefully, and he went off through the gardens, saying that he was going to get himself a pair of new shoes. Soon after Mr. Jukes, having got over his attack of dyspepsia, appeared, the boys laid Donald’s request before him.