His Peruvian friend he could not find, but he looked up
the Chinese trader that he'd first seen him with and who had a shop on
the corner between Martin Jackson's and the faro joint.
"The Chinaman could tell him. Senor Roca had taken the choo-choo back to
Callao--si, si--Oh, yes, for Lima.
"Cogan asked for the name and address and got it. 'Senor Luis Roca,' he
repeated. 'I'll remember that--and the street and number. And some day
I'll take a run down to Peru--to Lima.'
"'Si, si--fine cit-ee. And bull fight--granda, senor,' said the
Chinaman, who, like Martin Jackson, had also a Spanish accent."
* * * * *
The pump-man had come to a full stop. The third officer was standing
near. A regurgitating and ruminating little animal was the third
officer, who always after a meal came up on deck to lean over the
after-rail, and spend a few enjoyable minutes in picking his teeth, and
rechewing the lumps of food as they welled regularly into his throat;
but otherwise a polite little man, plainly waiting for a chance to say a
word to Kieran, but too well-bred to break in on any intimate
conversation. However, Kieran remained silent so very long that the
third officer turned and ventured: "'Adn't you better go below and have
your bit o' dinner afore it's gone, mate?" And Kieran came out of his
dream and said perhaps he'd better and stood up to go below; but on the
top step of the ladder he paused and over his shoulder threw back to the
passenger: "It was a long time, though, before Cogan saw Peru.
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