"I'll tell you all about it when we get back to the hotel," Jimmie
replied. "Do you know any of the gazabos about here? I want some
one to watch the ginks who are watchin' the mutts who are watchin'
the aeroplane."

Dougherty laughed at this suggestion of a treble surveillance and
pointed out a lanky looking individual who was studying the machine
closely from the outer side of the roped-circle.

"That's Pedro," he said. "He's all right. About all I've had to
eat since I came here he's given me. He's a Peruvian Indian, and in
need of money. Give him a dollar, and he'll guard your guards a
month, and never leave the machine, night or day."

"Does he talk United States?"

"Oh, just a little."

Pedro talked quite a little United States, as Jimmie called it, and
a bargain was soon struck with him. Then the two boys started away
together. First they visited a clothing store, where Jimmie looked
at the best suits in stock, and measured Dougherty cautiously with
his eyes. A full outfit of under and outer clothing provided, they
proceeded to the hotel, where Jimmie ushered his new-found friend
into a commodious bathroom.

"Remove some of your real estate," the boy said, "an' hop into these
new clothes. They ain't very nobby, but the best I could get here."

Mike Dougherty stood looking at Jimmie for a moment as if he could