At this Hockley was horrified, feeling that he was getting deeper and deeper into difficulty.
“Haven’t you any pity on a fellow who has been cleaned out?” he pleaded.
“I am a poor man—I must have my money,” returned the hotel keeper, stoutly.
“All right, you shall have it,” answered Hockley. “But you’ll have to wait until I get back to the other hotel and get the cash.”
“I will go with you,” answered the hotel keeper, who was unwilling to trust the youth out of his sight.
Valise in hand Hockley tramped back to the hotel at which our friends were stopping. He fully expected to find Professor Strong and the others awaiting him, and wondered what explanation he should make concerning his plight.
When he learned that all were at the plantation still he did not know whether to be glad or sorry. He hunted out the hotel clerk and asked concerning the professor and the others.
“I would like to borrow a little money until they get back,” he said. “Professor Strong will make it good when he settles up.”
The money was at once forthcoming, and Hockley settled up with the keeper of the Hotel Ziroda. He would not pay for Markel, and the hotel man said he would keep whatever had been left behind until the bill was settled. But the man from Baltimore had left little of value outside of a newspaper containing some dirty linen.
It was a very crestfallen youth who slipped into the dining room for breakfast and one who was in a humor to eat but little. As he gulped down a cup of coffee Hockley meditated on the situation. He wanted to smooth matters over with Professor Strong but did not see his way clear to doing it.