Branch, bold buccaneers don't make pretty speeches.
Hitch up your belt and say, 'Hello, Norine!' I'll call you
Leslie."
"Don't call me 'Leslie,'" he begged. "Call me often."
Then he beamed upon the others, as if this medieval pun were both
startling and original. It was plain that he wholly and inanely
approved of Norine Evans.
Enriquez was introducing a new-comer now, one Major Ramos, a
square-jawed, forceful Cuban, who, it seemed, was to be in command
of the expedition.
"My duties end here," Enriquez explained. "Major Ramos will take
charge of you, and you must do exactly as he directs. Ask no
questions, for he won't answer them. Do you think you can follow
instructions?"
"Certainly not. I sha'n't even try," Norine told him. "I'm fairly
bursting with curiosity at this moment."
"Remember, Ramos, not a word."
"I promise," smiled the major.
"Good-by and good luck." Enriquez shook hands all around; then he
bowed and kissed Miss Evans's fingers. "I shall pray that you
escape all danger, senorita, and I shall see that Cuba remembers
her debt to you."
When he had gone the three Americans followed their new guide
through the iron gates.
Major Ramos proved that he knew how to obey orders even though the
other members of his party did not. He remained utterly deaf to
Miss Evans's entreaties that he let her know something about the
plans of the expedition; he would not even tell her where he was
taking her, where the other filibusters had assembled, or from
what port their ship would sail.
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