“Do they keep this up all night?” he asked, finally, as a fresh outburst occurred and pandemonium reigned for the time being.
“I really don’t know, but it looks that way. Have you seen enough of the nonsense? If so, let’s adjourn to my hotel, where we may find a little quiet and get some sleep. I have more to tell you in the morning—something you might not believe in the midst of all the riot and romance.”
“Wait, shipmate. There’s a little native girl over yonder who’s been gazing at us this ten minutes past. I think she wants to say something and is afraid.”
As he spoke he smiled in his benign way; rough sailor that he was, Mate Robbins certainly had a face that won confidence, and when he thus allowed his bronzed features to relax, his expression was so inviting that the child hesitated no longer, but darted forward.
Of course, I supposed she was only a beggar, better garbed than the general run of them in Bolivar, and so confident did I feel with regard to this thing that I put my hand instinctively into the pocket where I was accustomed to keeping copper coins, to be used on such occasions.
There I paused, for the child, looking up in Robbins’ still smiling face, said quickly:
“You Amer-i-cano, señor?”
Robbins nodded. He was not the man to deny his country, no matter what trouble might be in ambush.
“You read Amer-i-cano?” asked the waif, still more impressively, her bright, black eyes all the while fixed on his own.
“Passably well,” with a double nod.