The destitute lad’s face brightened wonderfully. The money—about twenty dollars—was more than he had seen in a long time. He fingered the coins greedily.
“I—I’m much obliged to you and to your friend, too,” he muttered rather shamefacedly, “and—er—I’m sorry I ever played you mean tricks.”
“Never mind about that now,” said Jack, cutting him short. “My advice to you is not to hang about here, but to get a job on the first ship that touches here and go home.”
“I’ll go down to the shipping offices right now and see what the chances are,” promised Donald, and with a new spring in his step he started out of the hotel.
“What a change,” exclaimed Jack, when he had gone. “I never thought Donald Judson could become so humbled.”
“He is certainly blue, and that is hardly surprising,” agreed Billy. “But the question is whether his seeming repentance is sincere.”
“Let’s hope all that he has been through has taught him a good lesson,” said Jack.
“It surely ought to have,” said Billy, and then the subject was dismissed by a tall, half-clothed native striding into the lobby and beating stridently on a huge brass gong inscribed with queer characters.
“What’s that for?” asked Jack of the clerk behind the desk who looked like a German.
“Dot iss for Riz Tavel,” replied the clerk.