“He has done just the right thing. If we had been alone we could not have managed the matter at all.”
“I could have managed it well enough myself.”
“You can’t speak a word of Spanish, nor I either.”
“I don’t even know where that place is—Dragona—or whatever it is,” growled Bill.
“I am not to blame for your ignorance,” said Raimundo. “You heard every thing that was said; and, if you don’t like it, I am willing to get along without you.”
“Come, Bill; we must not get up a row. Raimundo has done the right thing, and for one I am very much obliged to him,” continued Bark.
“He might have told us what he was about,” added Bill, somewhat appeased by the words of his fellow-conspirator.
“We had no time to spare; and he could not stop to tell the whole story twice over.”
“Where is the place we are going to?” demanded Bill in the same sulky tone.
“Tarragona, a seaport town, south of here. How far is it, Mr. Raimundo?”