Holcombe engaged the entire first floor of the hotel the next day, and entertained the officers and the residents at breakfast, and the Admiral made a speech and said how grateful it was to him and to his officers to find that wherever they might touch, there were some few Americans ready to welcome them as the representatives of the flag they all so unselfishly loved, and of the land they still so proudly called “home.”  Carroll, turning his wine-glass slowly between his fingers, raised his eyes to catch Holcombe’s, and winked at him from behind the curtain of the smoke of his cigar, and Holcombe smiled grimly, and winked back, with the result that Meakim, who had intercepted the signalling, choked on his champagne, and had to be pounded violently on the back.  Holcombe’s breakfast established him as a man of means and one who could entertain properly, and after that his society was counted upon for every hour of the day.  He offered money as prizes for the ship’s crew to row and swim after, he gave a purse for a cross-country pony race, open to members of the Calpe and Tangier hunts, and organized picnics and riding parties innumerable.  He was forced at last to hire a soldier to drive away the beggars when he walked abroad.  He found it easy to be rich in a place where he was given over two hundred copper coins for an English shilling, and he distributed his largesses recklessly and with a lack of discrimination entirely opposed to the precepts of his organized charities at home.  He found it so much more amusing to throw a handful of coppers to a crowd of fat naked children than to write a check for the Society for Suppression of Cruelty to the same beneficiaries.

“You shouldn’t give those fellows money,” the Consul-General once remonstrated with him; “the fact that they’re blind is only a proof that they have been thieves.  When they catch a man stealing here they hold his head back, and pass a hot iron in front of his eyes.  That’s why the lids are drawn taut that way.  You shouldn’t encourage them.”

“Perhaps they’re not all thieves,” said the District Attorney, cheerfully, as he hit the circle around him with a handful of coppers; “but there is no doubt about it that they’re all blind.  Which is the more to be pitied,” he asked the Consul-General, “the man who has still to be found out and who can see, or the one who has been exposed and who is blind?”

“How should he know?” said Carroll, laughing.  “He’s never been blind, and he still holds his job.”

“I don’t think that’s very funny,” said the Consul-General.

A week of pig-sticking came to end Holcombe’s stay in Tangier, and he threw himself into it and into the freedom of its life with a zest that made even the Englishman speak of him as a good fellow.  He chanced to overhear this, and stopped to consider what it meant.  No one had ever called him a good fellow at home, but then his life had not offered him the chance to show what sort of a good fellow he might be, and as Judge Holcombe’s son certain things had been debarred him.  Here he was only the richest tourist since Farwell, the diamond smuggler from Amsterdam, had touched there in his yacht.