If only Johnny had been able to read Pant’s note! But he had not.
Captain Jorgensen had waited patiently for three days; then, having been offered a cargo of chicle and cocoanuts in Belize, he had given Johnny notice that if bananas were not coming aboard by the evening of the next day, his option would expire and he would be obliged to steam away.
He had said all this in the kindest tone possible. He liked Johnny. He liked Kennedy and his granddaughter, and would do anything within his power, but the company that owned his ship would stand for no further delay.
“It’s all right, quite all right. Very fine, Senor, very fine,” Diaz had said when, in despair, Johnny had sought him out once more. “To-day my men are among the bananas. To-morrow morning you shall have a train load.”
Johnny had doubted his word. He had trudged away up the narrow gauge railway track to see. He had tramped for miles in the shade of great spreading banana plants and had not seen a workman.
“They are not here, will not be here. We will have no bananas. To-morrow the North Star sails away. My plan fails. I have been worse than useless to my friends.
“And yet,” he said doggedly, “there must be some way out. There must!”
Again his eyes followed the long procession of ants. Once more he glanced toward the sky. The veil over the sun had grown a shade deeper.
“They are hurrying faster than ever,” he said as he again watched the interesting procession. “It is as if—”
Once more his thoughts broke short off. This time from just behind the second row of banana plants he felt sure he had caught the low murmur of voices.