“I wouldn’t like to be quoted in this matter, of course,” said Braxton, suavely. “And it might be just as well not to mention to Mr. Matson that I have spoken about it. He might think I was trying to pry into his affairs.”
As Joe and Jim came up just then from the engine-room of the ship which they had been inspecting, the subject, of course, was dropped, and after a while Braxton strode away with a self-satisfied smile on his lips.
The travelers were now in the heart of the typhoon region but luckily for them it was the winter season when such storms are least frequent and although they met a half gale that for two days kept them in their cabins, they were favored on the whole by fair weather and at the appointed time dropped anchor in the harbor of Yokohama.
Now they were on the very threshold of the Oriental world of whose wonders they had heard and dreamed, and all were on tiptoe with curiosity and interest.
The sights and scenes were as strange almost 170 as though they were on another planet. Everything was new to their young blood and unjaded senses in this “Land of the Rising Sun.”
The great city itself, teeming with commerce and busy life, had countless places of interest, but far more enchanting were the trips they took in the jinrikishas drawn by tireless coolies which carried them to the little dreaming, rustic towns with their tiny houses, their quaint pagodas, their charming gardens and their unhurried life, so different from the feverish, restless tumult of western lands.
“Really, this seems to be a different world from ours,” was Clara’s comment.
“It certainly is vastly different from anything we have in America,” replied Mabel.
“It’s interesting—I’ll admit that,” said Joe. “Just the same, I like things the way we have them much better.”
“To me these people—or at least a large part of them—seem to lead a dreamlike existence,” was Jim’s comment. “They don’t seem to belong to the hurry and bustle of life such as we know it.”