“Nah, nah!” cried the men; and Philip, supposing that he had threatened to interfere with some of their religious scruples, dejectedly lowered his box. But, as they turned away, our innocent travelers quickly had their eyes opened to the true situation.
“One dollar, one dollar!” cried one of the men, following them up. He was tastefully attired in a fez, a long white burnoose (a garment exactly like a nightgown), and red slippers.
Then Harry, who had traveled abroad, felt equal to the situation. He wheeled around with a look of grieved surprise.
“One dollar?” he exclaimed. “Oh, no, no. Twenty-five cents. One quarter.”
“No, no. One dollar!” spoke the Soudanese.
“One quarter,” insisted the American boy, “or fifty cents for the whole family”; and he waved his arms as if amazed at his own lavish generosity.
“No. Fifty cent for the baby,” suggested the dark dickerer.
“Twenty-five in here, fifty if you will take her into the sunshine. Come along,” said Harry, starting for the door.
“All-a right!” and the Soudanese made the bargain. For the half-dollar, he conducted the baby to a good light, and let her be taken.
This little tot was as bright as a new cowrie-shell; she had around her waist a dozen rows of tiny dry hoofs taken from some small animal, and these gave her great delight. She crowed and jumped, and rattled at every motion.