“It was bright light now and the city beginning to come awake.  People came out and took down the shutters of shops.  Indian women went by with loaded baskets of fruit, and other people drove little burros in carts filled with eggs, chickens, and green stuff; and men and women, with fish to sell in big dishes on their heads, came sliding by, and all yelled loud enough to wake a watch below.  Girls with baskets of flowers went by, and one, looking up, spied Cogan and stopped and held her basket up and made a motion for him to buy.  He turned his pockets inside out and threw his hands apart.  That made her laugh, and she took a flower from the basket, touched her lips to it and threw it up to him.  She was a pretty girl,—­all the girls were pretty this morning,—­but she was prettiest of all, and the flower was of a big blue kind which Cogan had never seen before.  He blew a kiss after her and she went singing on her way.  Cogan sang a little himself.  He was beginning to feel pretty good.

“Boys came and gazed up at Cogan, and sometimes men, and some of them laughed, but mostly they paid no attention to him.  He heard a bell tolling and he saw people below him filing toward a gate.  They all carried tin cups.  He looked further and saw that it was a monastery they were heading for, and that at the gate of the monastery two monks in brown habits were passing out bread and filling the tin cups with coffee.  Cogan dropped over the wall, and when he saw that one man had finished with his tin cup he asked him for it.  He knew Spanish enough for that.  The man smiled and handed it over.  Cogan went up to the grating and a monk filled his tin cup with coffee.  Another handed him three slices of dark bread.  Cogan thanked them, but the monks seemed not to hear.  He thanked them again, at which one monk, looking up, set a finger to his lips and motioned him to step aside for the next.

“Cogan finished his breakfast, thanked the native for the loan of the cup, and started to look around.  He first tried to find the park where he had left Tommie, but there were so many parks with trees and flowers and fountains in them!  He crossed a bridge over a river that must have come tumbling all the way from the top of the Andes, it had such a head of speed on.  He patrolled he did not know how many streets, and at last gave up hunting for Tommie, on whose account, anyway, he wasn’t worrying, for he knew that Tommie, an experienced old sailor man, had by this time laid his course for the Consul’s and been taken care of.  He sat on a bench at the curbstone in front of a fruit store to think things over.  It was a comfortable seat, except that every time a trolley passed he had to lift his feet high so he wouldn’t be swept off his perch.