Gus was nothing loath, and they set out. They passed down the main street, where they discovered several fine-looking hotels,—quite in contrast with their shabby surroundings,—and then turned down another road close beside the water.
Most all of the people they met were either Spaniards, Frenchmen, or natives. But few Americans were to be seen, and this made both boys feel more strange than did all the other surroundings.
“We are in a different country, and no mistake,” said Oliver. “See what queer ways the folks have! It makes me feel like a cat in a strange garret!”
Presently they drifted into quite a crowd that lined a wharf where a large boat was discharging fruit. Anxious to see what was going on, they pressed their way to the front until a tall Spaniard with a long whip rushed out, and jabbering at all the strangers, drove them off.
“Not a very sociable fellow,” grunted Gus. “By crickety! I thought he was going to fetch me one across the legs!”
It was now getting toward noon, and both boys were hungry. Oliver was for going back to the steamer for dinner, but Gus persuaded him to enter one of the strange eating-houses kept by a native.
“I want to see what kind of stuff they furnish,” he explained.
“All right. Only you must order,” replied Oliver.
So Gus ordered dinner as best he could. While they were waiting for it to be brought both boys felt in their pockets for money to pay for it. Neither had so much as a cent!