m very far did not
appear to detract from their friendliness. On the other hand, it may
have added a spice to it, somewhat as bitters at times improve a glass
of sherry. One day he asked Max point-blank what he intended doing when
he reached his destination.
"Up to the present I have settled nothing," Max replied. "I am leaving
it to chance to decide."
"It's not a bad idea," Moreas answered. "Brazil is a great place for
chance. Your life is one long gamble from the time you set foot ashore
until they _put_ you under ground."
"The picture you draw is not a very cheerful one," remarked Max;
"particularly for the confiding emigrant."
"Oh, you need not be afraid," said Moreas confidently. "A man who can
shoot as you do will always be able to keep his head above water. And
now I am going to make you a little offer, which it may possibly be
worth your while some day to accept. My advice to you is to try your
luck first in your own fashion, and if you don't succeed, just come to
me and see what I can do for you. Will you agree to this proposal?"
"It's extremely kind of you to take so much interest in me," Max
returned, "and of course I agree. I should be foolish if I did not. But
where and how am I to find you in the event of my being compelled to
accept your offer?"
"That is easily arranged. I will give you my address before I leave the
vessel." Then he added, with pardonable vanity, "It is scarcely
necessary, however; I believe I am fairly well known in Rio."
Next day he handed Max his card, on which his name and address was set
forth with many flourishes.
"At least," said Max to himself as he stowed it away in a safe place,
"there is something here to fall back upon."
CHAPTER VIII.
To disembark in a strange port, particularly a foreign one, is, to the
thinking man, invariably an interesting experience. The difference in
architecture, in costume, in language, and in custom, attracts the
attention and, if one may employ the expression in such a case,
titillates the senses, like the first taste of a rare wine to which one
has yet to grow accustomed.
Of all the cities of South America, Rio de Janeiro is, perhaps, the most
cosmopolitan, the most representative, and at the same time the most
contradictory. It is up to date, yet in many things it is sadly behind
the times; it is beautiful in some respects, yet indescribably hideous
in others; taken altogether it is a human abode full of bizarre
co
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