“Si. Yes. Pedro Ruiz,” Hi said. “R-u-i-z.” The men looked at him in bewilderment yet with courtesy. They smiled and shook their heads. Hi thanked them and turned from them. He did not much relish shouting aloud in that crowd of foreigners; but he shouted:
“Pedro Ruiz. Pedro Ruiz.”
A couple of lads mimicked his method with some success. He repeated his cry.
“Ah, ha,” Enrique said to him full of pride. “You want Pedro Ruiz?”
“Yes, si.”
“Ah, yes, indeed, Pedro Ruiz.”
“Is he here?” Hi asked.
“No,” Enrique said.
Enrique began a long harangue in Spanish, of which Hi understood not one word. Hi could not make out from the gestures whether Pedro Ruiz had been disembowelled or had been drinking soda water.
“See you,” he said, “can I get a boat to La Boca? A boat to La Boca by the sea?”