“Come to the rescue,” interrupted Joe, smiling.
“And also,” Fekmah went on, “you may have this if anything should happen me.”
“Let’s hope nothing will,” said Bob.
“And now,” began Dr. Kirshner, “I’m going down to the railroad station and find out if we can get a train this morning. I’ll be back in a short time.”
“While he’s gone, suppose we go out,” suggested Joe to his chum. “There’s a lot we can see around here before we leave.”
“All right,” Bob replied. “But we don’t want to stay too long. There might be a train out in an hour.”
The youths decided to see the old section of the city, as they had heard from Dr. Kirshner that many points of interest were to be found there. It was but a few minutes’ walk to their objective, and they turned their eyes about.
As they were passing a café, Bob motioned for his friend to look inside.
A gray-haired, shriveled old man in torn clothing was strumming a guitar and walking from one end of the café to another, holding out a hand for money. But no one seemed inclined to give him any. Evidently this was a common occurrence, for the people paid little or no attention to the old beggar.