“Then he’s got his little sister along with him, has he?” asked Buster.
“Sure thing,” reported Josh, “and as for you, old croaker George, it’d be doing the right thing for you to beg everybody’s pardon, and especially the boy’s, for thinking such mean things about him.”
“Who was the first to guess that he must be one of that band of desperate Serbian youths, tell me?” demanded George. “I was wrong, I’ll admit, but an ounce of prevention is always better than a whole pound of cure.”
With that he threw away the club which he had been gripping, as though in company with it went all his suspicions.
Presently the Serbian boy came into camp, holding by the hand a pretty dark-eyed little maid of about seven. The boys were immediately smitten with her charms, and no longer wondered that her brother had so openly boasted she was the prettiest little girl in all Belgrade.
Apparently that noted surgeon had done a splendid job, for never had they looked into brighter and more roguish eyes than she possessed. If they had been dulled by cataracts, as Jack suspected was the case, then the curtains had been skillfully removed.
Buster immediately announced that supper was all ready, and would be spoiled by any further waiting; so they sat down, places being prepared for the guests of honor.
While they ate the boys kept up a conversation among themselves. Jack from time to time would hold communication with the Serbian youth, whose appetite proved the truth of his assertion that no food had passed his lips during the whole of the preceding day.
Later on Buster amused himself trying to talk with the little girl and teach her a few words in English. Jack and Josh and George got their heads together, being desirous of settling on what they ought to do with regard to the pair cast adrift in a strange and hostile land.
“They can stay with us all night, anyway, and have breakfast in the morning,” suggested Josh.