Part 21 (1/2)
”You never heard one word of him?” persisted Sam.
”Nary a word, sonny. I reckon he's either lost in the jungle or among the mountains, or else the natives have taken care of him.”
”Did he say anything about the trail he was going to take?” asked Randolph Rover. ”I understand there are several.”
”He was going to take the Rumbobo trail, most all of 'em do.”
Simon Hook drew a long breath. ”Say, can I sell you any of these old things of mine cheap?”
”Perhaps you can,” said Randolph Rover.
”We are bound for the hotel now. We will come in later.”
”Glad to see you,” and as they left the shopkeeper waved them a pleasant adieu with his hand. But he never stirred from his chair.
”I guess he has grown tired of trying to sell goods,” observed Tom.
”Perhaps he knows that if folks want the things he has to sell they are bound to come to him,” said d.i.c.k. ”His store seems to be the only one of its sort around.”
The hotel for which they were bound was several squares away, located in something of a park, with pretty flowers and a fountain. It was a two-story affair, with s.p.a.cious verandas and large rooms, and frequented mostly by English and French people.
They had just entered the office; and Randolph Rover was writing his name in the register, when d.i.c.k caught sight of somebody in the reading room that nearly took away his breath.
”Well, I never!”
”What is it, d.i.c.k?” asked Tom quickly.
”Look at that boy reading a newspaper. It is Dan Baxter--Dan Baxter, just as sure as you are born!”
CHAPTER XV
CAPTAIN VILLAIRE'S LITTLE PLOT
d.i.c.k was right: the boy in the reading-room' was indeed Dan Baxter, but so changed in appearance that for the minute neither Tom nor Sam recognized him.
In the past Baxter had always been used to fine clothing, which he had taken care should be in good repair. Now his clothing was dilapidated and his shoes looked as if they were about ready to fall apart.
More than this, his face was hollow and careworn, and one eye looked as if it had suffered severe blow of some sort. Altogether he was most wretched-looking specimen of humanity, and it was a wonder that he was allowed at the hotel. But the truth of the matter was that he had told the proprietor a long tale of sufferings in the interior and of a delayed remittance from home, and the hotel keeper was keeping him solely on this account.
”How he is changed!” muttered Tom. ”He looks like a regular tramp!”
”He's been in hard luck, that's certain,” came from Sam. ”I wonder how he drifted out here?”
While Sam was speaking Dan Baxter raised his eyes from the newspaper and glanced around. As his gaze fell upon the three Rover boys he started and the paper fell to the floor, then he got up and strode toward them.
”d.i.c.k Rover!” he cried. ”Where did you fellows come from?”
”From Putnam Hall, Baxter,” answered d.i.c.k quietly. ”And what brought you here?”
Ordinarily Dan Baxter would have retorted that that was none of d.i.c.k's business, but now he was in thoroughly low spirits, and he answered meekly: