"Maybe the professor is a geologist," suggested Tom, "and he may want to get some samples of that hard rock."
"Maybe," admitted Mr. Titus. "But I shall keep my eyes on him all the same. I'm not going to have any strangers, who happen to be around when bombs drop near us, get into my tunnel."
"I think you're wrong to doubt Professor Bumper," Tom said.
A few days after this, when Tom and Mr. Titus were casually discussing the weather on deck and wondering how much longer it would be before they reached Callao, Mr. Damon, who had been playing numberless games of chess, came up for a breath of air.
"Mr. Damon," called Tom, "come over here and meet a friend of ours, Professor Bumper," and he was about to introduce them, for the two, as far as Tom knew, had not yet met. But no sooner had the professor and Mr. Damon caught sight of each other than there was a look of mutual recognition.
"Bless my fountain pen!" cried the eccentric man. "If it isn't my old friend!"
"Mr. Damon!" cried the professor. "I am delighted to see you again. I did not know you were on board!"
"Nor I you. Bless my apple dumpling! Are you still after those Peruvian antiquities?"
"I am, Mr. Damon. But I did not know you were acquainted with Mr. Swift."
"Oh, Tom and I are old friends."