“They have an idea down here that all Americans are rich, and free to spend their money,” said Mr. Whyland. “The same idea prevails in Europe, and American tourists are generally made to pay a little more for what they purchase than other folks.”
“I wouldn’t mind having some of the things he had to sell, but I have no money to spare,” remarked Oliver.
“Just my case,” put in Gus. “And it makes me mad enough to have to say no, without having some one insist the other way.”
The remainder of the journey took but a short while. Soon the train rolled past a number of ancient and squalid-looking houses, and Mr. Whyland announced that they had reached the outskirts of Panama.
But around the odd-looking station things were not so bad. To be sure all was new and strange to the boys, and they kept their eyes wide open for all such sights.
“They often have most outrageous bull-fights here,” said Mr. Whyland as they alighted.
“I should like to see one,” rejoined Gus. “Not that I would enjoy the sport, but it would be so strange.”
“I would not care to go,” put in Oliver. “I think it is too cruel!”
“It is the height of cruelty,” responded Mr. Whyland. “I went once. It was held on a Sunday, and a friend insisted that I should accompany him. When the poor beasts were brought out, and a number of things done to enrage them, I was disgusted; and when the fight began I grew sick, not only at heart, but physically as well. What sport there is in the thing I cannot see.”