The Spaniard held out his hand.
"It is a bargain," he said--"I promise. But I must warn you that you are merely throwing your life away, for you will certainly be killed. However, that is no more than you deserve for saying that bullfighting is an unworthy sport. I will meet you here to-morrow morning if you should wish to arrange any particulars.
Good day, Sir."
As the Spaniard turned and walked into the shop with the bed-maker, Polynesia, who had been listening as usual, flew up on to my shoulder and whispered in my ear, "I, have a plan. Get hold of Bumpo and come some place where the Doctor can't hear us. I want to talk to you."
I nudged Bumpo's elbow and we crossed the street and pretended to look into a jeweler's window; while the Doctor sat down upon his bed to lace up his boots, the only part of his clothing he had taken off for the night.
"Listen," said Polynesia, "I've been breaking my head trying to think up some way we can get money to buy those stores with; and at last I've got it."
"The money?" said Bumpo.
"No, stupid. The idea--to make the money with. Listen: the Doctor is simply bound to win this game to-morrow, sure as you're alive. Now all we have to do is to make a side bet with these Spaniards-- they're great on gambling--and the trick's done."