“You’re all right, Bulo,” said Mark, after the merriment was over. “Here’s a souvenir for you,” and he handed the colored boy a medio, which, as mentioned before, is worth five cents.
“Yes, mistair, yes, mistair,” said Bulo, with glistening eyes. And as he stuffed the coin in his shirt, he bowed half a dozen times again, and then, considering himself dismissed ran off, singing at the top of his voice.
CHAPTER XIV
A LOSS OF HONOR AND MONEY
We will now go back to Dan Markel and Hockley, and see how the lank youth fared at the hands of the man from Baltimore.
The proposition of Markel to “paint the town red,” appealed to Hockley, but he looked glum when he heard the words.
“Yes, I’d like to go with you,” he said. “But I can’t.”
“Can’t? And why not, my dear boy?”
“I’ve got to stay around with the professor and the rest. We’re to visit a coffee plantation this afternoon.”
“Oh, that’s dead slow.”
“I know it is, and I don’t want to go, but I don’t see how I’m to get out of it.”