“Gee whiz! Don’t I wish we could go there!” breathed Tom as they sped back to the dining room.
“Nothing sailing for Cuba for a week, dad,” Jack announced. “Did you see about the trouble in Sonora Province?” he went on with an artless glance.
Mr. Chadwick laughed.
“I knew you were dying to know what was in this telegram,” he said, “and you have certainly adopted a clever way of eliciting that information. I suppose you read of the revolution in the papers?”
Jack nodded.
“They say that property down there is in danger,—lives, too.”
“You might have placed the lives first, my boy. But apparently the papers are right. Here is the source of my information. Read it out aloud.”
He handed the telegram to Jack, who took it and read for his cousin’s benefit:
“Revolution started here. Rebels strong. No troops at hand. The mine in risky position. Come at once if possible. Native helpers and workmen fled.
Jameson.”
“Jameson is my superintendent at the mine,” explained Mr. Chadwick. “We have been experimenting with a new method of smelting the ore on the spot. Hitherto all Cuban ore has had to be shipped to this country for refinement. We save by using my processes and doing it at the mine.”