Dan did not at once enter Donovan's. He stopped in the street, and began to sing "Viva Garibaldi."
Two or three boys gathered about him, and finally a couple of men. One of them handed him a three-cent piece.
"Grazio, signor," said Dan, pulling off his hat.
"What part of Italy do you come from?" asked one of the men.
"Si, signor, I come from Italy," answered Dan, not considering it prudent to understand too well.
"Oh, he don't understand you. Come along."
"His hair doesn't look like that of most Italians."
"Pooh! I'd know him for an Italian boy anywhere."
At this moment the door of the saloon opened, and Dan, putting his violin under his arm, entered.