On the threshold he stopped, however, and knocked. There was no response from within, but, hearing the sound of voices in back of him, he turned quickly to see who was responsible for it. A small group of natives stood in the doorway of each hovel, or in front of it, eyeing him in a curious manner. “Enter!” one of them called to him. “The _patron_ is inside.” David heeded this advice and walked in. He found himself in a long, low room with a hard-packed earth floor. A number of benches lined the walls and at one end were a wooden table and a chair. A man of burly appearance sat on the chair; his back was turned toward the doorway so that David could not see his face, but the neck was dark brown--David did not know whether the color was that of a native or caused by the hot sun. His clothes--a tan silk shirt and khaki-colored riding breeches, with tall boots and huge spurs--were neat and not unattractive. The youth saw that much during the minute he waited respectfully just inside the room. Then, as the man paid no attention to him, he took a few steps forward. “Didn’t I tell you to keep out of here?” The man’s voice sounded like a roar, but still he did not look up from the papers before him. “Wait just a minute--then I’ll kick you out, so you will remember it the next time.” The man stood up and turned quickly. “Well, for the--” he exploded and stopped short in apparent surprise. His face was tanned also and smooth, and his eyes were blue. But for the fierce scowl he wore he would have been a most amiable-looking sort of a person. “Who are you? Where did you come from? How did you get here? What do you want?” The questions were hurled in such rapid succession that David was bewildered. “I am Jones,” he said, after an instant’s hesitation, and he tried to smile. “Jones? Jones who?” “David Jones. You are expecting me.” “Boy, you must be crazy. I am not expecting anybody”--with a sneer--“and furthermore, if I find out who brought you here I’ll break his neck.” “You don’t understand--” David began, but the other interrupted him. “Don’t you tell me I don’t know my own business,” he snapped. “Pardon me. I did not intend to be rude. But I understood that my father and you were old friends and that he had made arrangements for my coming here. He sent several cables----” “Oh, that’s it, is it? Just because he happened to know me he thinks he can send his lazy, shiftless son to me to look after. What does he think this is, a kindergarten? What I want is men, real men--not babies. What do you know, what can you do? Nothing.” David’s first feeling of consternation was giving way; also, he felt decidedly less important than he had when telling of his plans just before sailing, and on the steamer. What did he know after all? What had he ever accomplished? Now that he was actually face to face with the rugged type of man he had held up as his ideal, he felt very small indeed.