lf, Inkspot's nature took entire possession of him,
and he bounded to the table in ecstatic recognition of the bit of metal.

The men now swore at Inkspot, but as they saw he was unarmed, and not
inclined to violence, they were not afraid of him, but they wondered at
him. The horse-dealer took the piece of gold out of his pocket and held
it in his hand.

"Did you ever see anything like that before?" he asked. He was a shrewd
man, the horse-dealer, and really wanted to know what was the matter with
the negro.

Inkspot did not answer, but jabbered in African.

"Try him in English," suggested the thin-nosed man, and this the
horse-dealer did.

Many of the English words Inkspot understood. He had seen things like
that. Yes, yes! Great heaps! Heaps! Bags! Bags! He carried them! Throwing
an imaginary package over his shoulder, he staggered under it across the
floor. Heaps! Piles! Bags! Days and days and days he carried many bags!
Then, in a state of exalted mental action, produced by his recollections
and his whiskey, he suddenly conceived a scorn for a man who prized so
highly just one of these lumps, and who was nearly frightened out of his
wits if a person merely pointed to it. He shrugged his shoulders, he
spread out the palms of his hands toward the piece of gold, he turned
away his head and walked off sniffing. Then he came back and pointed to
it, and, saying "One!" he laughed, and then he said "One!" and laughed
again. Suddenly he became possessed with a new idea. His contemptuous
manner dropped from him, and in eager excitement he leaned forward and
exclaimed:

"Cap' 'Or?"

The four men looked at each other and at him in wonder, and asked what,
in the name of his satanic majesty, the fellow was driving at. This
apparent question, now repeated over and over again in turn to each of
them, they did not understand at all. But they could comprehend that the
negro had carried bags of lumps like that. This was very interesting.

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE "ARATO"

The subject of the labors of an African Hercules, mythical as these
labors might be, was so interesting to the four men who had been drinking
and smoking in the tavern, that they determined to pursue it as far as
their ignorance of the African's language, and his ignorance of English
and Spanish, would permit. In the first place, they made him sit down
with them, and offered him something to drink. It was not whiskey, but
Inkspot liked it very much, and