There was, too, the necessity of work—hard work, if they were to go off on an unknown and uncertain cruise. And work is, perhaps, even better than hope, to mitigate grief.
So, though the sorrow would have been a terrible one, and almost unbearable, were it not for the ray of light and hope, they were able to hold themselves well together—these young Americans in a strange land.
"Jack, perhaps you had better go and thank Senor Ramo at once," suggested Cora. "He may be able to give you some good advice, too, about fitting up the Tartar for the cruise. He seems to know a great deal about these islands."
"I'll see him at once," agreed her brother. "Just send up my card to him, please," he requested the hotel clerk.
"To whom, Senor?"
"To Mr. Ramo."
"But he is not here—he is gone!"
"Gone?" Jack looked at the clerk blankly.
"Yes. He left, Senor, soon after you went away. He said business called him."
"That is strange," murmured Jack.