A small crowd gathered at the wharf to see the little steam yacht come in.  Perhaps the former English wandering owner had been here before, and some of them even recognized the vessel.

Scowls greeted her passengers when it was discovered that they were not English but Americans.  Frank and Andy paid little heed to these frowns.  They did not mean to leave the boat, if so be it were possible to have Senor Almirez come aboard.  And for that purpose they had written to him ahead of time, telling him how they expected to reach Barranquila about a certain date.

Several breakdowns of the engine had delayed them, so that they were even now two days behind time.  On this account, as well as through prudence, they meant to stop here as briefly as possible.

Immediately their purser went ashore to make inquiries, and purchase a lot of fruits that could be taken on the river voyage; though for that matter they might expect to get anything they wanted at various villages along the route.

Frank was looking the crowd over closely.

“I think I see him, Andy,” he remarked, presently.

“You mean Senor Jose?” asked his cousin, eagerly.  “I’ve been watching that middle-aged gentleman who seems to be pressing close in on the flank of the crowd.  There, see, he is speaking to Manuel, our purser, now, asking him some question.  He looks up here at us; yes, and waves his hand, with a smile!  That must be Senor Jose, all right, Frank.”

“I’m going down to meet him, to fetch him aboard,” declared Frank, after both boys had answered the signals of the dark-faced gentleman in the white linen suit, and who was also wearing a Panama straw hat.

Three minutes later and Frank reappeared, having the other in tow.

Just as both of them had suspected it was Senor Jose.  Receiving their communication from Maracaibo, he had been on the watch.

“And he tells me, Andy, that there has been no new development since he wrote.  So that fear of yours must be set at rest.  Just depend on it, we’re in this game to win out, and your dear father is going to be found,” Frank went on.

Presently they were deep in conversation.  The boys found Senor Jose a very intelligent gentleman indeed.  He had spent some years in Washington in connection with the embassy of his government, so that he not only spoke and wrote English well, but had a high opinion of Americans; something that the vast majority of his fellow-countrymen failed to acquire, being possibly fed on stories that may have had their inception in German or English trade sources.

From him Frank extracted all the information he could concerning the wonderful country lying between Magangue and the Isthmus of Panama, covering possibly some three hundred miles.  It was little enough.  Most of it, he declared was a terra incognita, being utterly unknown land.

“But,” continued the obliging senor, “you will certainly be able to learn more concerning this when you see my fellow-countryman, Senor Mendoza; for all his life has he lived there at Magangue, and surely he must know something of that country to the south.”