“Oh, Dalky!” cried Ruth, “Jack’s been run away with and the two girls have been kidnapped!”
“Impossible! In broad daylight?” exclaimed many voices.
Nancy tried to explain all that had happened in so short a time, then Mr. Dalken laughed. “Exactly what I advised you against. If we had landed last night every one would have been whipped into a separate vehicle and carried off to a different hotel. These drivers are paid to drag visitors to the various houses willy-nilly, and once the tourists arrive, they are so frightened at their experience, they usually remain where they have been left. But where did the man take Polly and Eleanor?”
While he spoke, such a clamor and wrangling of drivers at the elbows of each one in the group, drove Mr. Dalken distracted. Finally he turned and held up a hand for silence. Little cared these black men for New York authority or prestige. They all wanted a fare, and that was all.
“There’s but one thing to do—each one of us get in a separate hack and tell the man to drive you to the Spring Hotel. When you arrive there tell him to wait for me—that I carry the purse. That will cool their blood and have them ready for me when I arrive.”
Mr. Fabian laughed, but it was the only solution to rid themselves of being pulled to tatters by the myriad of besieging men. Quickly then Mr. and Mrs. Fabian got in one cab, Mr. and Mrs. Ashby in another, Nancy and Ruth with Mr. Dalken got in a third, and all started off.
As far as weather went, the day was beautiful and calm. But the old rackety hacks went seesawing over the yellow road whence one could see the blue edge of the sea far out beyond the coral reefs. White bits of sail on distant little vessels made bright spots on the blue glassy horizon. Finally, after a drive of not more than ten blocks, but a trip which the wily drivers had stretched out into twenty blocks by going round about the town, the first load of shaken-up passengers reached the hotel verandah. The driver brought his horse to a sudden stop with a wild hurrah and a flourish of the limp whip. Then he sprang to the ground and demanded his money.
“You’ll have to wait for the last man to arrive. He has the money,” explained Mr. Fabian, as instructed.
Such a volley of expletives then poured from the man’s mouth that Mrs. Fabian covered her ears and ran for the hotel porch. But a diversion occurred in having the second hack arrive and crash into the first one. The Ashbys stepped out with shaking nerves and white faces.
“Oh, such a drive!” gasped Mrs. Ashby, but the driver interrupted her by demanding his money.