“Yeah. A couple of couples.”
“Now we’re getting there! Can you describe them?”
“Can’t say as I could. Didn’t look at ’em, to tell you the truth. Only I do recollect our baggage man sayin’ he was gipped out of two tips, so these two guys must of carried their bags theirselves.”
“Let’s go see him,” suggested Dot.
“He’s a Mexican. Don’t speak English. But maybe I can explain to him what you want.”
They walked about the dock until they found a greasy-looking man who was sprawled on a truck-van, smoking a pipe. The sailor explained what the girls wanted, and the man sat up and stared at them.
Linda could hardly restrain a shudder. She thought that she wouldn’t care about meeting this man alone in the dark, or in the desert. But he seemed pleasant enough. And, to their delight, he gave them the information they wanted. Pointing abruptly at Linda, he told the sailor in Mexican that one woman looked like that girl!
Before the latter had even interpreted his meaning, Linda and Dot had jumped to the correct conclusion and were wild with excitement. Nothing could keep them back now, short of a cyclone. If the weather held like this on the morrow, they would be on their way to Hawaii!
“That settles it!” announced Linda. Then, turning to the sailor, she inquired the exact destination of the “Mona.”
“Honolulu,” was the reply.