CHAPTER XXII.
THE SEARCH.
Toward dusk on Sunday evening, Tom, after a lazy day, having once more perused the paper bound love story which he invariably carried in his pocket, was reminded of his promise to join Jim and Juarez on shore.
He called to Jo, and, while waiting for him, let down into the long boat at the ship’s side some small casks, which were to be filled with fresh water.
“When you get ashore, send the steward on board,” said the professor. “It’s near supper time, and he should be here.”
“What did he go ashore for?” asked Tom.
“He said that he wanted to look for some kind of leaves that he wished for flavoring.”
“H’m,” drawled Tom. “Hope he hasn’t gone to look for something to poison us with.”
“What makes you so prejudiced against the steward, Tom?” asked the professor. “There isn’t anything against him, except that he is a Mexican, and—”
“That’s enough for one thing,” asserted Tom. “I am pretty sure that he is the one that has caused all the trouble here.”