There were few street lamps, and in places the houses crowded in upon the narrow strip of gloom through which Dick picked his way with echoing steps. Most of the citizens were in the plaza, and the streets were quiet except for the measured beat of the surf and the distant music of the band. A smell of rancid oil and garlic, mingled with the strong perfumes Spanish women use, hung about the buildings, but now and then a puff of cooler air flowed through a dark opening and brought with it the keen freshness of the sea. Once the melancholy note of a guitar came down from a roof and somebody began to sing in a voice that quivered with fantastic tremolos. Dick went carefully, keeping as far as possible away from the walls. In Santa Brigida, all white men were supposed to be rich, and the honesty of the darker part of its mixed population was open to doubt. Besides, he had learned that the fair-skinned Northerners were disliked. They brought money, which was needed, into the country, but they also brought machines and business methods that threatened to disturb the tranquillity the Latin half-breed enjoyed. The latter must be beaten in industrial strife and, exchanging independence for higher wages, become subject to a more vigorous, mercantile race. The half-breeds seemed to know this, and regarded the foreigners with jealous eyes. For all that, Dick carried no weapons. A pistol large enough to be of use was an awkward thing to hide, and he agreed with Bethune that to wear it ostentatiously was more likely to provoke than avoid attack. Once he thought he was followed, but when he stopped to look round, the shadowy figure behind turned into a side street, and he presently found the man he was in search of in a quiet cafe. He spent some time explaining the drawings of the patterns that would be required before Don Tomas undertook to make the castings, and then languidly leaned back in his chair. His head had begun to ache again and he felt strangely limp and tired. The fever was returning, as it did at night, but he roused himself by and by and set off to visit the doctor. On his way he passed the casino and, to his surprise, saw Jake coming down the steps. Dick frowned when they met. "How did you get in?" he asked. "It's the rule for somebody to put your name down on your first visit." "So it seemed," said Jake. "There are, however, ways of getting over such difficulties, and a dollar goes some distance in this country; much farther, in fact, than it does in ours." "It's some consolation to think you've had to pay for your amusement," Dick answered sourly. Jake smiled. "On the contrary, I found it profitable. You make a mistake that's common with serious folks, by taking it for granted that a cheerful character marks a fool." He put his hand in his pocket and brought it out filled with silver coin. "Say, what do you think of this?"