His eyes were black and piercing
and might have been pleasant were it not for his disagreeable habit of
not looking directly at the one with whom he was talking. His glance
roved about the place taking in every detail yet never resting long in
any one place.
"How do you do?" pleasantly queried Arnold resolving to be congenial in
spite of his instant distrust of the other. "I'm sorry we ran you down
and ruined your boat, but I'm glad we got you aboard in time to save
your life. It was a lucky accident."
Advancing in his frank and friendly manner he held out his hand in
greeting. The stranger at first drew back, then as if thinking better of
his resolve, he thrust forth his hand for a quick handshake, almost
instantly releasing Arnold's grasp.
"What is your name, may I ask?" questioned Arnold.
"Carlos Madero is my right name, but they call me Charley," was the
lad's almost surly response. "I live at Pass Christian and work on a
shrimping schooner. My boat is gone now."
Arnold busied himself with the operation of the stove for a moment to
regain his composure, for the fellow's manner had angered him
immediately. Presently he turned and said:
"My name is Arnold Poysor. I am from Chicago and so are my chums. We are
down here for a vacation and pleasure trip. We're sorry we smashed your
boat, but if you'll accept it, we'll give you the one we're towing
behind us. We bought it in Mobile."
"All right!" replied Carlos. "You ought to do that much.
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