Pedro made an inarticulate sound in his throat and moved away as if with the intention of leaving the newcomers.
“I guess you had better wait a while if you care to get square with that fellow,” said Judson Greene—for it was he—placing one hand upon the lad’s shoulder. “We know all about the affair, and we are ashore to help you out a little if we feel like it. Any place about here where we can get a drink and have a quiet chat?”
Pedro eyed them for a moment from under his black brows, then he gave a little nod, and without a word, trotted off.
A brief period later the three precious rascals, Judson, Chris Spendly and Pedro were busily talking in the back room of a low fonda, or drinking resort, on one of the side streets leading from the water front.
In the meantime the rest of the liberty party was merrily proceeding toward the center of the city, attracting favorable greetings from shopkeepers, and glances of admiration from the pretty girls along the way, for the American naval cadet ashore is both liberal with his money, and gallant in his personal appearance.
Clif, Joy and Nanny were walking together and their hearts were light within them.
Three weeks on board ship with tumbling decks, close quarters and stormy winds made good dry land very attractive.
Joy alone looked gloomy. He was a human paradox. When his spirits were lightest his face showed the deepest depression.
“It’s worth while spending a long time at sea to get such an appreciation of mother earth,” laughed Clif, executing the first steps of a hornpipe. “Eh, Joy, old boy?”
“Oh, I don’t know; there are other pleasures,” sighed the lanky plebe. “And this isn’t such a great place after all. It looks nice enough from the ship, but——”