“Terra firma I suppose you mean,” laughed Lee.
“Let it go at that,” said Fred carelessly. “What’s one word more or less between friends?”
A stalwart young negro was lying on a bale of cotton, basking like a cat in the hot sun. The leader of a gang of roustabouts came hurrying along looking for men.
“Got a job for you, Sam,” he said. “This steamer’s got to be unloaded in a hurry. Come along now and I’ll put you in a gang.”
“Nothin’ doin, boss,” replied the negro with a yawn.
“Why, what’s the matter with you?” remonstrated his would be employer. “It was only yesterday you were striking me for a job.”
“Ya-as,” replied the other, as he yawned and turned over for another nap, “but dat war yesterday. Ah made two bits dis mornin’, an now Ah got money in mah pocket. Go ’way, man, an’ let me sleep.”
With a gesture of disgust the other hurried away to look for more likely material. The boys looked at each other and laughed.
“You see from that what we’re up against down here,” said Lee. “That’s the way most of them are. As long as they have money enough for their next meal, they’re perfectly satisfied. That man with a few cents in his pockets is as happy as if he were a millionaire.”
They had about two hours before it was time for their train to start, and as it was nearly noon, the first thing they did was to get a hearty meal. Then they spent a little while roaming about the beautiful and busy city, so different in many respects from what Bobby and Fred bad been accustomed to in the North. They were especially interested in viewing the spot where, behind cotton bales, Andrew Jackson and his men had held off the flower of the British Army and won the most notable victory of the war of 1812.