"It's not a bad idea," Moreas answered. "Brazil is a great place for chance. Your life is one long gamble from the time you set foot ashore until they put you under ground."
"The picture you draw is not a very cheerful one," remarked Max; "particularly for the confiding emigrant."
"Oh, you need not be afraid," said Moreas confidently. "A man who can shoot as you do will always be able to keep his head above water. And now I am going to make you a little offer, which it may possibly be worth your while some day to accept. My advice to you is to try your luck first in your own fashion, and if you don't succeed, just come to me and see what I can do for you. Will you agree to this proposal?"
"It's extremely kind of you to take so much interest in me," Max returned, "and of course I agree. I should be foolish if I did not. But where and how am I to find you in the event of my being compelled to accept your offer?"
"That is easily arranged. I will give you my address before I leave the vessel." Then he added, with pardonable vanity, "It is scarcely necessary, however; I believe I am fairly well known in Rio."
Next day he handed Max his card, on which his name and address was set forth with many flourishes.
"At least," said Max to himself as he stowed it away in a safe place, "there is something here to fall back upon."
CHAPTER VIII.
To disembark in a strange port, particularly a foreign one, is, to the thinking man, invariably an interesting experience. The difference in architecture, in costume, in language, and in custom, attracts the attention and, if one may employ the expression in such a case, titillates the senses, like the first taste of a rare wine to which one has yet to grow accustomed.