“Then——” he was very impressive. “He tell me letter say this friend of me is one who lead other white man to death!”
That explained why they were so anxious to see the letter, of course. It might not be a letter from his father—but who else in Peru knew him or knew his address? But his father would not get into a brawl. Perhaps he did write that he was led into danger. In that case the Indian was guilty of it.
“The letter has not arrived,” Cliff repeated.
“Maybe it went to the Dead Letter Office,” Nicky suggested. “Maybe the other fellow didn’t address it right.”
The Spaniard did not interpret this; evidently he did not understand, not being familiar with American postal systems.
“White man dead—not letter” he corrected. Cliff smiled.
“We can’t do anything until it comes,” he said, “Then——”
“You give to us?” eagerly. “You not open. We pay——”
“I won’t promise anything like that,” Cliff shook his head, Tom and Nicky doing likewise. “But I will promise not to open it until you are here. That’s fair, isn’t it?”
When the Spaniard had interpreted, his companion said something that made the interpreter laugh with a vicious glint in his eyes.