"I'll get one," said Dacres, and presently he returned with a two-foot rule in his hand.
"If it weren't a very serious matter, Dacres, I'd simply roar with laughter," declared the Captain of the "Meteor." "I asked you simply to see what you'd do, and you've simply given the whole show away. Imagine a supposed Frenchman taking measurements in a country where the metric system is in force and using a British two-foot rule."
Dacres flushed under his tanned features.
"By Jove! I must be more careful."
"You must, not only on your account but for the sake of your companion. It's a good thing de la Fosse didn't see what you were up to."
Amid the hearty good wishes and farewells of the "Meteor's" officers and men Dacres and Henri, attired in sombreros, loose grey shirts, buckskin trousers, and native shoes fitted with formidable-looking spurs, set out on their hazardous enterprise.
Soon Dacres found himself in the high-peaked saddle of a mule. Although fairly docile as mules go, this animal required a considerable amount of skill on the part of the rider. Like most sailors Dacres rode awkwardly, hanging on more by good luck than good management, the performance causing the high-spirited Henri no end of amusement, especially when the inapt rider was slung out into the dust no less than three times during the first half hour.
"Pardon me, monsieur, I cannot help it," said young de la Fosse apologetically, although tears of laughter were trickling down his face.
"Neither can I," replied Dacres as he picked himself up and essayed to clamber into the awkward saddle.
"But if you ride thus into La Paz the Valderians will have suspicions," resumed Henri doubtfully. "In Valderia everyone rides superbly."