By this time they were at the ferry house. There was no boat in the slip and they had to wait outside for some minutes. When the gates were finally opened they were almost the first in line, but Greg's fare would not let him enter until all the express wagons, milk wagons, mail wagons and other late vehicles had gone in.
"Wait till the last! Wait till the last!" he said. "It's safer."
Greg laughed. "What do you mean, safer?" he asked.
"I wouldn't want to be caught in the middle of the boat if anything happened," the tall man said with the obstinacy of one in his condition. "Drive on last, and stay out on the back deck in the open. It's safer."
"There's nothing in that," said Greg.
"Well, you do what I tell you anyhow. I'm willing to pay for what I want. Here's five dollars on account."
Greg shrugged and took the money. He was sure then that he had the vagaries of a drunken man to deal with.
As his fare desired he let his taxi stand out on the after deck of the ferry-boat. As soon as she left her slip this part of the deck was deserted, for everybody else instinctively pressed up forward to be ready to land. Greg's fare lit a cigar of wonderful fragrance.
"This is nice," he said, taking his ease. "I don't like to be crowded on a boat."
But presently he underwent a feather-headed change of mood. "Let's stroll up to the bow so we can see where we're going," he said.