"Nothin'. It's just one of those words a person keeps hearin' all his life and never does know what it means, unless he asks somebody. I heard a little about one last night, and I thought I'd ask; that's all."
"Last night?" Ogle said; and there was a gleam in his eye. "You mean after I saw you?"
"After that?" Tinker groaned. "My soul, no! My folks weren't talkin' to me all night about impresarios!" He took the young man by the coat lapel. "Listen! I got to go back up to our rooms in a minute;—I been out of 'em longer now than there's any safety in. I got an idea I may be leavin' here for some other place in about an hour; I haven't been told yet, and I know better'n to ask for any say in the matter—under the circumstances. Murder, no! But if I'm still here by evening, for heaven's sake send up and see if I'm alive, and if I am, say you got to see me on business, or to go to a fire, or anything. And listen! Did you see that petrified man up in the museum at Algiers that they boiled in tar or something? What did they do that to him for?"
"He was a Christian martyr, I believe."
"Is that all?" Tinker said. "Golly! I thought maybe he went out and ate some o' this Arab Koos
