CHAPTER XXXIV.
A SPANISH BILL OF FARE.
"I want some soft-boiled eggs, but I don't suppose you
know a soft-boiled egg from a gas stove, eh?"
The waiter at the hotel Royal, in Santiago, regards Jack Ashley with an expression as blank as a brick wall.
"Don't get the idea, I see," remarks Ashley. "Well, let me think. 'Huevos' means eggs, I know that much, but what the deuce is soft-boiled? I believe 'blondo' is soft, and soft eggs might express the idea. 'Blondo huevos,'" he tells the waiter, and the latter, though apparently puzzled, disappears.
For the next ten minutes Jack is occupied in receiving and sending back orders of eggs—eggs cooked in every conceivable style except soft-boiled. Finally in despair he selects a dish nearest to his wants, and gets along all right until he decides to have some chicken. An examination of the bill of fare fails to discover anything that looks like chicken, and the case appears hopeless.
"If I only had my phrase book with me I might do some business," he reflects. "As it is, I don't see any way out of it except to draw a picture of a chicken. Hold on; 'gallina' means hen, unless I have forgotten my studies, and if there is anything consistent in the linguistic diminutives of the Spanish language, 'gallinoso' must be the equivalent for chicken." So he orders "gallinoso" with a complacence born of a problem happily solved.
The waiter simply stares and waits patiently.
"'Gallinoso' doesn't go, then." Ashley looks the bill of fare over again. The most attractive item is "salchichas con aroz," but he does not dare risk that. Finally a happy thought occurs to him.
"Todos!" he orders. "Todos! Todos!" The waiter, with a grin of intelligence, hurries away and Ashley heaves a sigh of relief. "Great word, 'todos,'" he soliloquizes. "Most significant word in the language."
