"Hurt?" echoed the man, speaking good English, although with a very perceptible foreign accent. "Not at all, señor; only my limbs—they are so cramped from confinement that I cannot stand. Soon they will be all right. But who are you?" and suspicion suddenly flamed in the dark eyes. "How does it happen that you know of my trouble and have come here? Are you a confederate of the rascally Don Carlos?"
"Ton Garlos?" repeated Carl. "I don'd know dot feller from Atam. I vas a shdranger in dis blace, und all I know iss der Amerigan consul, Misder Hays Chordan und Toctor Armsdrong, und——"
"You are American?" interrupted the other eagerly.
"Yah, so; Amerigan mit a Dutch accent."
"How do you happen to be here?"
"Id vas a plunder, dot's all," answered Carl. "A pulltog chaced me und pooty near caught me, doo. I got ofer der vall from der odder site und couldn't get pack some more. Vat a high vall iss aboudt der blace! Und so smoot' und shlippery as I can't dell."
"What were you doing in the other yard?"
Carl didn't want to mention that part of it, but it seemed necessary in order to convince the man of his harmless intentions.
"Vell," he answered diffidently, "I vent der mit meinseluf to serenate a yoong laty py der name oof Miss Sixdy——"