“Surely, most just and wise,” cried the Porteño, “and I am certainly not the man to be unwilling to show you that I am a respectable person. Of course I am not carrying about with me any such large sum as you have, but if it is a matter of a thousand or so pesos, I never go about without that amount on my person.”
Here he pulled back his coat a bit and displayed a smaller roll of bills, though with the extreme circumspection of the city-bred man. The countryman seemed entirely satisfied with this proof of honesty and, shaking hands with the other most heartily, assured him that he had every confidence in him. Then he turned his simple face questioningly upon me.
I could not, of course, being a mere vagabonding “errand boy,” make any display of wealth. But it seemed so eminently my duty to keep an eye on the Porteño until the countryman’s money had come into indisputably honest hands that I determined to invent myself a small fortune with which to keep my standing in the case. I drew out the nine pesos and some change in my pocket with an apologetic countenance and addressed my companions:
“I’m sorry not to be able to show at once that I am a person of means, but I am so well aware of the dangers of large cities that I never carry with me more than enough for the day’s expenses, and of course you are not interested in seeing this tiny amount,” which I then put back into my pocket.
“But you must have money somewhere,” asked the Porteño, anxiously, “just enough to show this gentleman we can be trusted to carry out his commission? Come over here a moment. You will excuse us for a minute, won’t you?” he added, addressing the campesino.
“Yes, but señores,” cried the latter, almost in tears, “you are not going to talk about anything to my hurt?”
“On the contrary, it is entirely for your good,” answered the townsman. “Just excuse us a moment until we arrange this matter to your satisfaction.”
The two of us crossed the street, where the Porteño asked me again if I could not show I had money.
“Why, yes,” I lied, determined now at all costs not to let him take unfair advantage of the incredibly simple estanciero, “I have money in the—er—the German bank and in the German consulate. But how can I get it out, to-day being Sunday? Of course, if the bank-book would be sufficient proof for our friend, I could hurry home and get that.”
“Where do you live?”