Goldfrap John Henry - The Boy Aviators in Nicaragua; or, In League with the Insurgents стр 8.

The men in the bonga were lowering the sails as he spoke and when they had them tied in gaskets each took an oar while the captain ran to the stern with a long sweep.

The men rowed slowly toward the shore till they were almost hurled bow on into the tumbling surf. Suddenly, at a cry from the man in the stern, they stopped work with their oars and the bonga tossed up and down on the racing crests of the big waves while they backwatered.

All at once the man with the steering oar, who had been watching for a large wave to come rolling along, gave a loud command. The rowers fell furiously to work. The boys felt the bonga lifted up and up on the crest of the big combers and a second later they were swept forward, it seemed at a rate of sixty miles an hour. The surf broke all about the bonga, but she hardly shipped a drop.

As the long narrow craft raced into the boiling smother of white foam her crew leaped out in water almost up to their necks and fairly rushed the craft up the beach before the next roller came crashing in.

Well, that beats shooting the chutes, for taking your breath away, remarked Harry as the party strolled along under a palm-bordered avenue on their way to the hotel where they were to lunch. The dripping crew of the bonga followed them carrying the boys smart, new baggage on their heads.

The Hotel Grand Central was a long building with a red-tiled roof and the invariable patio in the center off which the room opened. The boys were delighted with the place. In the middle of the patio, in a grove of tropical plants, a cool fountain plashed and several gaudy macaws were clambering about in the branches of the glistening greenery. The hot dusty street outside with its glaring sun and blazing iron roofs seemed miles away.

As they were about to turn into the sala, in which their meal was to be served, a man bustled out and almost collided with them. It was General Rogero.

Ah, Señor, we seem fated to encounter each other to-day, he exclaimed with a flash of irritation as his eyes met Mr. Chesters.

The next moment he had started back with a quick: peste! as his dark gaze fell on the boys.

Why! exclaimed Harry, thats the fellow who came down on the ship. The man who said he was a diamond salesman and that he had a lot of stones in that black bag! Do you know him, father?

Know him? repeated Mr. Chester in a puzzled tone as Rogero whisked scowling out of sight into an adjoining room.

He was a mysterious sort of cuss, chimed in Frank, kept to himself all the way down and had his meals in his cabin.

Perhaps he had a good reason to, smiled Mr. Chester; your diamond salesman is General Rogero of the presidents army.

As he spoke and the two boys fairly gasped in astonishment at this sudden revelation of the true character of the man with the black bag, Billy Barnes came hurrying up.

Hello, my fellow-passengers, he exclaimed heartily; hello, Frank! hello, Harry! it was characteristic of Mr. Barnes, that although he had met the boys for the first time on the steamer he was calling them by their first names the second day out as I hinted to your father an hour or so ago, Ive run into the biggest story of my career.

You rushed off in such a hurry that I could hardly call it even a hint, smiled Mr. Chester.

Youll get jolly well laid up, Mr. Barnes, if you go rushing about like that in this climate what? put in Blakely.

I beg your pardon, sir, really, burst out the impulsive Billy contritely, addressing Mr. Chester, but you know when a newspaper man gets on the track of a good story he sometimes forgets his manners. But you will be interested in my mornings work.

Heres what Im digging on and if it isnt a snorter of a story never let me see New York again.

Well, what is it, Billy? asked Harry, come on, never mind the fireworks lets have it.

Just this; proudly announced the reporter, General Rogero has only two fingers on his right hand.

Yes? from the boys in puzzled tones.

Well, what of it? from Mr. Chester.

Billy was evidently artist enough to keep his listeners in suspense for he went on with great deliberation.

You remember that when he was a diamond salesman, on board the Aztec that we hardly ever saw him?  well, there was a reason, as the advertising men say. What was that reason? you ask me. Just this; that he didnt want any one to get wise that he was minus three of his precious digits.

Why for?  Because the man who killed Dr. Moneague in New York, was shy on his hands in the same way now do you see! triumphantly demanded the reporter.

If our amiable friend Rogero isnt the same man who murdered Moneague in New York Ill eat my camera, films and all, he concluded.

It doesnt seem to me that you have any proof on which you can base such a serious accusation, said Mr. Chester. Rogero is a desperate man and an unscrupulous one, but I do not believe that even he would deliberately commit such a crime.

Dont you, sir? contradicted Billy, well, I do. From what Ive observed of him, hed stop at nothing if he had an end to gain. The thing in this case though is, what was his motive for killing Dr. Moneague, except that Moneague, so the police discovered, was an agent of the revolutionists down here?

Like a flash the recollection of what Don Pachecho had told him about the bit of parchment on which was traced the secret of the lost Toltec mines crossed Mr. Chesters mind. He hurriedly gave his interested auditors an outline of what he knew about the clue to the treasure trove.

Rogeros the man then for twenty dollars! excitedly cried Billy. He had the thing in that black bag he guarded so carefully. If I only could get hold of it wed have his neck in the halter in a brace of shakes. Ive a good mind to try. The first thing Im going to do, though, is to flash a bit of message to New York to No. 300 Mulberry Street and tell my old friend Detective Lieutenant Connolly that I think a run down here would result in his turning up something interesting. Anyhow , the reporter was continuing, when he was cut short by the sound of a shot from outside and a loud cry of pain. The startled party hurried through the sala and out into the street.

A shot means a story; remarked Billy to his camera as he adjusted it ready for action while he hurried along after the others.

CHAPTER V.

ROGERO IS CHECKMATED

In front of the hotel an excited crowd was clustered about a man who lay in the dust. He was evidently badly wounded if not dead. Near by, a sneer on his evil face, stood Rogero, his still smoking pistol in his hand. As Mr. Chester and the boys hurried up he turned to them and exclaimed:

You see, Señor, that it is not safe to be a revolutionist in these days.

Why its poor Juan! cried Mr. Chester as he bent over the man who had been shot. Good God, hes dead! he exclaimed a second later after a brief examination of the prostrate figure.

Yes; one of your servants I believe, remarked Rogero carelessly, the dog was pointed out to me as being a runaway from Estradas army and, when I called him to me to give him a little wholesome advice, he started to run off so I was compelled in the interests of discipline to shoot him.

There was no more emotion in his voice than if he had been speaking of some ordinary event of life.

This is a cowards trick! exclaimed Mr. Chester angrily, this man was my servant and any complaint you had against him you should have referred to me.