You see, in these isles, one must never pay the price demanded. The native holds the highest regard and esteem for those who know the ropes and stick to one price generally it is four to five times less than that asked. Remember this when you go shopping, ladies, said Mr. Dalken.
But what will you do about Polly and Nolla and the two lost boys? asked Ruth, anxiously.
We will go over on the verandah and order long cool drinks of orangeade and wait for them. They will come, all right, when the driver hears that they wish to stop at this hotel, said Mr. Dalken.
Arent you a little worried? asked Mrs. Courtney.
No, not in Kingston. It would have been different in Havana or Hayti. Here, every one is as honest as the drinks and they are temperance and pure. No synthetic orangeade for your money. The laughing tone and reassuring manner of their host made his friends feel confident that soon the lost members of their party would arrive with varied tales of adventures.
Meanwhile young Baxter had managed to cause such a drag on the horse, to which he clung like grim death, that the animal stopped on a side lane where the blinding dust measured at least ten inches in depth. Natty Jack, in his once immaculate white flannels and silk shirt, looked for all the world as if he had been purposely caked with Jamaica dust an inch thick. Even his hair and eyebrows stuck out in yellow thickness. As the horse stopped Jack let go and sat down upon the ground with a heavy sigh.
Aigh, you-all pays me free dollahs! demanded the driver.
The owner of the animal now stood over Jack and scowled fiercely. Mebbe dat hoss goin to git heaves fon all dis hawd wuk. Mebbe youse gotta pay foh my hoss, too!
This was too much for poor Jack! He sprang up and there, in the isolation of that Jamaica lane shadowed by over-hanging palms, he started a regular fight with the driver. The astonished man, never thinking of striking back, went flat upon his back in the same dust where his victim had been seated a moment before.
Jack jumped into the front seat of the hack, whipped up the nag with the same whip the driver had brandished over him just a minute previously, and before the amazed fellow could think, his vehicle had passed out of sight around a corner of the lane.
While this went on, Ray sprinted as swiftly as if he was running a Marathon, but he was no match for the whipped horse which carried his friend to only goodness knows where. But Ray could not keep up the pace overlong, so he quietly subsided in front of a fruit stall and paid for a reviving drink of green cocoanut milk, thereby earning himself a stool upon which to sit and rest from the frightful strain in a tropical temperature.
While he sat there slowly sipping the cooling beverage, the carriage with Polly and Eleanor seated within drove past the fruit vendors booth. Ray was too exhausted to jump up and follow, but he decided that the girls were on their way to the Spring Hotel. Hence he turned his attention again to the drink.
The driver of the surrey in which the two girls had climbed, had no intention of taking his fares to the well-known Spring Hotel, because he was paid extra for every guest he could deposit at a small and practically new boarding house of third-rate class. Naturally this landlady found great difficulty in securing guests, and she found it necessary to pay the hack drivers a commission for their collaboration.
Polly and Eleanor saw themselves whisked along mean streets lined on both sides with a bungalow type of houses; these dwellings apparently were filled to overflowing with people of varied shades of black and brown, down to a pale yellow. Every now and then the driver of the vehicle had to swerve out of the way for a tramcar track at street crossings. At such crossings the girls saw the business street, down which the cars had their tracks, busy with tourists and shop keepers who called from their emporiums to attract attention to their wares on sale.
For all the world like the East Side in New York, isnt it? asked Eleanor, as both girls gazed with interest at all they saw.
After driving his fares in and out of many byways, the hack man brought his horse up before a shabby house of somewhat larger dimensions than any bungalow the girls had yet seen. Here he opened the broken-hinged door of his surrey and bowed to let them know they were to step out and pay their bill.
Several indolent guests, who plainly showed their plane of life, sat upon the rickety chairs
on the narrow verandah which hung desperately to the front of the Hotel. The landlady, a great bulk of light yellow tint, came out to greet her new guests.
Polly glanced over the place in amazement, and Eleanor felt inclined to double up in laughter. She had to cover her mouth with her hand in order to choke back the wild shout of amusement that would demand a vent.
Why, what do you call this place? demanded Polly of the driver, frowning upon him in stern anger.
Dis am de ho-tel you wants to come to, replied he.