“You mean about Cuba?”
“Of course. Wonder why the governor wants to know about a vessel for that island.”
“He wants to go there, I suppose,” rejoined the practical Tom.
“I don’t see what could take him there, except that iron mining property he bought recently, not far from Santiago.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s something urgent. I saw his color change when he read that wire, and anyway, a telegram always means a rush order somewhere.”
By this time they were in the library, and turning to the shipping columns of the papers.
“Nothing for Cuba for a week,” declared Jack after a prolonged scrutiny of the sailing list. “Well, that settles—— Whew! Tom, maybe this sheds some light on the subject.”
He pointed to a glaring headline on the opposite page:
“AMERICANS IN DANGER IN CUBA. REVOLUTION IN SONORA PROVINCE.”
“‘Sonora Province,’ why that’s where dad’s mine is located,” rushed on Jack breathlessly. “Depend upon it, that’s what’s up.”