Thanking the little hostess, we did as bidden. Martin proved to be a tall German with a fat, jolly face, and willing to do anything for us.
"Dis blace vos belong to Mr. Henry Soule," he said, in reply to my question. "Dis vos a coffee blantation alretty. Mr. Soule vos drive off early dis morning mit two of his friends to see vere dot pig fire vos last night. I dink he been home putty soon."
"Went off to see about that fire," repeated Dan, and looked at Oliver and me. "He must mean that village."
"Yah, it vos a native village vot purnt down," put in the German hostler. "You vos know apout dot, too, hey? How did dot village get on fire?"
"That is more than I can say," answered Dan, and turned to us. "Come, let us get into the house—and get something to eat—if it is to be had."
