Finally they turned in at the big gateway of the Japanese Inn, tired and thirsty and with curiosity somewhat satisfied. A Japanese waiter, dressed in his white garments, received them smilingly and led them in through the building to the lanai, or veranda, opening on the beach.
They passed between the tables, where sat every kind of people—millionaire tourists, common sailors, magnificently gowned women, natives, townfolk—and finally dropped into chairs at a small table set among the palms and looking out on the sea. The place was set aside by itself, out of the glare of electric lights, and the two boys sighed contentedly as the music blared out inside and their little waiter bobbed respectfully.
"Mebbe you have some whiskey?" he queried with bland innocence. Bob grinned.
"No, thanks," chuckled Mart. "Nothing in that line for us. Plain ice cream and melon for me."
"Same here," nodded Bob. The little waiter bobbed again and was gone.
"Golly, ain't this quiet an' restful!" breathed Mart. "This place is just like fairyland to me, Holly. I'd like to stay here a week instead of two days!"
"Oh, we got enough ahead of us," laughed the other happily. "By juniper, this place is crowded! He must have stuck us off here in the corner because we didn't look like good spenders, eh?"
At this juncture the little Japanese returned with their melon and ice cream, which he set down rather superciliously. Mart, who had been paid off that day, in common with the rest of the crew, handed him a dollar.
"Here, keep the change, and don't come back for a while. We won't order any more, and we're going to stay right here, savvy?"
The little waiter bowed low, grinned cheerfully, and vanished behind the palms that hedged in their table. Both boys were rather glad to be out of the crowd, however; they could hear perfectly, could get occasional glimpses of the people around them, and out beyond them the white surf broke and maintained its low thunder as the tide came in.