He looked up and as the man whose back was toward them did so and made a half turn on his folding seat, all three boys started and their jaws dropped.
“Mr. Coleson!” gasped Nicky.
It was Mr. Coleson all right—the owner of the plantation where they had stayed in Jamaica.
“Hello, young fellows!” he replied briskly, swinging further around in his chair. “So you came back!”
They were still speechless with surprise.
“I’m rather glad you did,” Mr. Coleson went on. “Did you find any treasure?” He turned a grinning face to wink at Senor Ortiga who frowned heavily at the boys.
Nicky shook his head. “You know right well we didn’t!” he declared. “You sent us away to have a clear field here.”
“Nevertheless I gather that there is treasure buried in such spots,” said Mr. Coleson. “You might have found some.”
“We found something else, though,” said Nicky, fixing a meaning look upon the Spaniard.
“Liquor! Of course!” Rodriguez Ortiga agreed shortly. “How did it happen that my beloved brother didn’t put an end to you—I rather expected that he would!”