We went down to the shore in silence. As we emerged from the woods, John Bard came striding up the beach.
CHAPTER XXV
THE END OF A DREAM
I don't think I was ever so glad in my life before to see anyone. There he was in the flesh, dear old John, tall and grave and courteous, like any Spanish don, in a clean tussore suit and the inevitable cigar stuck in a corner of his mouth.
"John!" I exclaimed. "How on earth did you ever get here?"
He stared at me in astonishment. It was obvious that, for the moment, he did not recognise me. Well might he wonder who this begrimed tramp might be who greeted him so familiarly. But then he cried out and clapped me on the back.
"Desmond, by all that's holy! Man, you've given us an anxious time! What have you been up to to get yourself in that condition?"
"It's a long story now ended," I answered soberly, "and it'll keep! At present I can't get over your turning up here!...."
"From inquiries I made about El Cojo and his gang after you left I got seriously alarmed about you," said this most faithful friend. "But when I heard that the Government coastal defence motor-boat, the fastest craft in these waters, was missing, I decided it was time I came to look for you. One of my fruit-ships, the Cristobal, happened to be in harbour, so I came along in her. She's lying outside now. Before we do any more talking I suggest you come aboard with me and have a clean-up. And you look as though you could do with a drink as well!...."