"Your employer—who is he?"
Captain Brincker scowled. This was treading on forbidden ground. He may have been inwardly disgusted that the man he served should have stooped so low as to pilfer supplies for the expedition, but the matter was not for him to meddle with. He had an odd code of loyalty, a sadly twisted sense of honor, but such as they were he was stanch to them. He would not break with the man who had bought his sword and his services.
"My employer?" said he. "That is not for me to tell you. I shall have to lock you up for the present. It would be most unfortunate to have the expedition of the Juan Lopez spoiled by the tongue of a meddlesome boy. The American government would seize the ship and arrest all hands if the news leaked out. You know too much to be at liberty."
Oddly enough, Walter made no protest, nor was he any longer angry. He perceived that he had blundered into one affair while he was on the trail of another. Captain Brincker had been honest with him, discussing the situation as man to man, and he was justified in guarding the secrecy of his adventurous enterprise against discovery by the authorities. The alarming possibility was that he might think it his duty to inform his employer of Walter's knowledge concerning the stolen merchandise.
"Are you going to report what I found out—that the commissary stores were smuggled on board the Juan Lopez?" asked Walter.
Before Captain Brincker could answer, there came from behind the palms at the other side of the patio the screeching voice of a parrot:
"Viva Panama. Pobre Colombia. Ha! Ha! Ha!"
