He was in a quandary. It was just one discouraging thing after another. Would matters ever become straightened out? He must go on that launch, for had not the burly captain told him there would not be another in months? He made one more desperate effort. “I am going on the _Aguila_ whether you like it or not. And when I get to Las Palmas--” he began, but the captain stopped him. “Talk all you want to, but if I catch you aboard my boat I’ll throw you into the river,” he threatened. David looked at the man and knew he would keep his word. His mind worked fast; he thought of one other thing. “How soon do you start?” he asked. “In two hours.” “Will you take a letter for me?” “Yes, I will take a letter or as many as you want to send, but I will not take you, so don’t ask it again. Las Palmas is no place for a foreigner. It is terrible there--snakes, insects and fevers. And the boss treats us like dogs.” David ignored these remarks. “I’ll go to the hotel to write the letter and will bring it to you in less than an hour.” He hastened back to his room to prepare the missive, and ignoring a first impulse to write all that had occurred during the last hour, he only stated that he had arrived and was eager to reach the ranch, but had no way of doing so. “When Mr. Rice gets this he’ll ask the captain questions and then he’ll be furious at the way I have been treated,” he thought. “And he’ll make him turn right around and come back for me. Then it will be my turn to show off, just as he did, and it will serve him right. He will soon find out who I am.” He hastened back to the river to deliver the letter, and as he thought the matter over he was glad he had omitted all reference to the captain, for the latter would doubtless read it and if he found anything too personal he would destroy it. Bad as it was, his position could have been a great deal worse. It was now a question of only a few days more of waiting. That was a certainty. But when David reached the river, breathless and perspiring, a new calamity awaited him. The _Aguila_ was gone. He looked up and down the river; there was no sign of the boat. As he stood on the sand, too stunned to move, a sailor came up to him and spoke sympathetically. “Are you looking for the _Aguila_?” he asked. David subconsciously murmered assent. “She left over half an hour ago--right after you went away.” “Thanks.” David turned and slowly walked away. Try as he would to banish the feeling, there was no denying the fact that his experiences were beginning to dim the glamor of the life he had longed for; and that, too, in the face of the fact that so far he had accomplished absolutely nothing. He went to the post office and mailed the letter, hoping that somehow or other it would reach its destination. CHAPTER V A CHANGE OF FORTUNE