“I don’t know as my uncle wants anybody along,” said Sam, to whom Baxter addressed his remarks.

“Well, won’t you speak to him about it, Sam?  I can’t find anything to do here, and the captains to whom I’ve applied don’t want me on their ships,” pleaded the former bully of Putnam Hall.

Sam was easily touched at all times, and he knew that Baxter must feel lonely and wretched so far from home and without friends or capital.  He at once went to his brothers and his uncle and laid the big youth’s proposition before them.

“We don’t want him,” said Dick promptly.

“I don’t believe he would be of any use to us.”

“I would rather give him some more money just for him to stay behind,” added Tom.

Mr. Rover was thoughtful for a moment.

“And what do you say, Sam?” he asked at length.

“Well, I don’t like Baxter any more than the others do.  But it seems awfully hard on him.  I don’t believe he knows how to turn.”

“We might give him enough money to get back to the United States with.”

“I’d rather have you do that, Uncle Randolph,” said Dick.  “I don’t want him with me.”

“I will have a talk with the misguided boy,” was the conclusion reached by Randolph Rover; but he got no chance to speak to Dan Baxter until late in the afternoon, and then, to his astonishment, Baxter’s manner had changed entirely, he intimating that he wanted nothing more to do with them.

For in the meantime something which was bound to be of great importance to the Rovers had occurred.  In Boma were a number of persons of mixed French and native blood who were little better than the old-time brigands of Italy.  They were led by a wicked wretch who went by the name of Captain Villaire.  Villaire had been watching the Rovers for two days when he noticed the coldness which seemed to exist between, our friends and Baxter.  At once he threw himself in Baxter’s way and began to it pump the youth regarding the Americans.

“Zay are going into the interior, you have remarked,” he said in very bad English.  “Are zay verra rich people?”

“Yes, they are well fixed,” answered the tall youth.

“And zay do carry zare money wid zem?”

“I guess not —­ at least, not much of it.”

“You are zare friend, eh?”

“Hardly.  Out in America we were enemies.”

“So?  You hata zem?”

“Yes, I hate them,” muttered Dan, and his eyes shone wickedly.  “I’m only treating them in a friendly way now because I’m out of money and must do something.”

“I see.  It ees a good head you have —­ verra good,” murmured Captain Villaire.  “Do you know, I heara dem talk about you?”

“Did you?  What did they say?”

“De one boy say you should be in ze jail; didn’t you robba somebody.”

“He had better keep his mouth shut.”

“You lika do somet’ing wid me?” continued the French native, closing one eye suggestively.  He was a close reader of human nature and had read Baxter’s character as if it was an open book.