People near him said,
'Americano?' inquiringly, to which Cogan's bull-fighting friends
replied--'Si, si, Americano,' and added a 'Heep, heep, hoo-raw!' to make
Cogan feel more at home.
"That was the morning that Torellas told Cogan that if he wished he
could go into the ring on the occasion of the festival which Peru was to
hold in honor of the American fleet. And such an occasion it was to be!
A welcome from a younger to the older republic. There was to be a great
bull-fight, at which Torellas was to make his last appearance before
going to Spain.
"Spain! Madrid! The highest of honors! Cogan looked at Torellas, but the
matador didn't seem to be so very glad."
The pump-man seemed to be listening to something. "Hear 'em?" he asked.
The passenger cocked up his ears, and heard them--several voices from
the depths of one of the tanks.
"It's No. 11," explained the pump-man, and hurried away. The passenger
saw him disappear into a hatchway. Almost immediately the voices ceased
and shortly four deck-hands hurriedly emerged. Kieran followed. "Beat
it!" he ordered, and they somewhat sheepishly went forward.
Kieran came aft. "What was the trouble?" asked the passenger.
"That bunch of bone-heads,"--Kieran was talking. He was also pinching
the crust from the wick of a candle he held--"they sneaked down there to
have a little game. And brought this candle with them--for light.
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