“It was as I surmised,” said the professor. “Two pipes burst and let out an immense amount of steam. One of the firemen had his leg scalded and an engineer had his left hand badly lacerated. They are now repairing the damage done, and they say that by morning we will be able to steam along the same as usual.” “I’m glad to know it’s no worse,” observed Frank, while Hockley wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead. “But it’s queer the pipes should burst. They must be old.” “The engineer says he told Captain Sudlip about the pipes needing repairs before we left La Guayra. But the captain put him off and told him that he would have the repairs made at Havana.” “If that’s the case then that fireman and that engineer will have it in for him,” was Mark’s comment. “And they ought to have it in for him,” came from Frank. “Those men might have been steamed to death, and we might have been blown up in the bargain.” “Just what I say,” added Sam. The rain soon cleared off and that evening the countless stars came out to brighten up the view of the sea. The boys made themselves easy on the deck, taking in the scene, the single exception being Hockley, who sat close to a cabin light, reading a novel he had picked up at a bookstall in La Guayra. “Did you see that novel Glummy is reading?” said Sam to Frank, as he drew up his chair. “I didn’t notice particularly. What is it, something deep?” And Frank smiled. “Very deep,” went on Sam, disgustedly. “The title is ‘Pete Prankley, the Sassiest Boy in Sawtown; Or, Out for a Hundred Laughs a Day.’ Did you ever hear of such rot? I don’t see how Jake can read it.” “That’s on a level with another book he was reading--at the hotel in Caracas. That was called ‘Gold Nose Hank, the Mine Discoverer; Or, The Whoop-Up at Stampede Hollow.’ Just for fun I looked through the book and made a note of the things that happened. Gold Nose Hank shot down three Indians, two road robbers and one government detective. His enemies fired forty-six shots at him but never touched him. He located nine gold mines, said to be worth fifteen million dollars, and saved the life of the girl five times, once from a stampede of cattle, once from the Indians, once from a road robber, and twice from drowning in a river which he afterward forded without getting his cartridge belt wet. And all that for ten cents.” At this Sam burst into a merry laugh. “That author believed in giving his reader his money’s worth, didn’t he?” “Glummy seems to have got a mania for that sort of a story lately. The professor once took a book away from him and burnt it up. But now Glummy puts the books out of sight as soon as he sees the professor coming.” “If he keeps on he’ll be wanting to follow in the footsteps of Gold Nose Hank or Pete Prankley,” said Mark, who had listened to the talk. “If he does it will get him into trouble. He will find--listen!”