“Filthy place, this—what with the stench and the heat—One of these days I’ll make it even hotter for the man who is accountable for this!”
“Sh!” cautioned Bill. “Here they come!”
Diego and the other man came into sight between the bars. Diego unlocked the cell door.
“On yer way!” he barked. “De big boss wants ter look youse over.”
“Anything’s better than this hole,” observed Mr. Bolton, and picking up his coat he preceded Bill out of the cell.
“Mebbe—and mebbe not,” said Diego’s partner, and they both chuckled hoarsely.
“How about some water to drink?” inquired Bill.
“Do I look like a soda fountain? Tell yer troubles to de boss. Servin’ drinks ain’t my job.”
The sun’s heat was terrific out on the road, and the glare was blinding. All wind from the sea was cut off by the valley, and the very trees seemed to shimmer under the broiling rays.
They passed several other buildings which looked like barracks and warehouses, but saw no people. If there were any, they remained indoors.