The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1905-01-12
md wiped that palm upon his trousers

facing the Marquesas headdress. Eyes.
sir; they're queer game down there"
In the Marquesas islands, You
mean?" said Wilbur. I
Yes, sir, they're queer game. When
they amt tattooin' themselves with
Scripture tex's they git from the mis-
sionaries, they're pullin' out the hairs
all over their bodies with two clam
shells. Hair by hair, you understan'."
"PulPn out 'er hair?" said Wilbur.
wondering what was the matter with
his tongue.
'"They think it's clever-think the
women folk like it,
| Wilbur had fancied that the little
man had worn brown sweater when
| they first met. But now, strangely
enough, he was not in the least sur
prised to see it iridescent, like ri
geon's breast
"Y' ever been down that way?" in
quired the little man next.
Wilbur heard the words distinctly
enough, but somehow they refused to
fit into the right places in his brain.
He pulled himself together, frowning
heavily.
"What -did-you-say?" he asked
with great deliberation, biting off his
| words. Then he noticed that he and
his companion were no longer in the
| barroom, but in a little room back of
| it. His personality divided itself. There
was one Ross Wilbur, who could not
| make his hands go where he wanted
them, who said one word when he
thought another and whose legs below
the knee were made of solid lead;
then there was another Ross Wilbur
Ross Wilbur the alert, who was per-
fectly clear beaded and who stood off
to one side and watched his twin broth
er making monkey of himself, with
out power and without even the desire
Of helping him.
This latter Wilbur heard the rides.
cent sweater say:
"Bust me, if y amt squiffy, old man.
Stand by bit, an We'll have ball."
"Can't have got-return-excepti
ly-and the round table-pull out hairs
wi tn clamsh'ls,'' gabbled Wilbur's
stupefied double, and Wilbur the alert
said to himself: you're not drunk.
Ross Wilbur; that's certain. What
could they have put in your cocktail?"
The iridescent sweater stamped twice
upon the floor, and trapdoor fell
away beneath Wilbur's feet like the
drop of gallows. With the eyes of
his undrugged self Wilbur had
a. Of 70, ho1~ ~
struck the floor as he went down, and
he fell feet first into a whitehall boat.
He had time to observe two men at the
oars and to look between the piles that
supported the house above him and
catch glimpse of the bay and CLINT
of the Contra Costa shore. He was
not in the least surprised at what had
happened and made up his mind that
it would be good idea to lie down in
the boat and go to sleep.
Suddenly, but how long after his ad-
vent into the boat he could not tell, his
wits began to return and settle them
selves like wild birds flocking again
after scare. Swiftly he took in the
scene.
The blue waters of the bay around
him, the deck of a schooner on which
he stood, the whitehall boat alongside
and an enormous man with a face like
setting moon wrangling with his
friend in the sweater, no longer rides
cent.
what do you call it?'' shouted the
red man. Il want able seamen. don't
6gger on working this boat with dane
ing masters, do I? We amt exactly do
ing quadrilles on my quarter deck. If
we don't look out Wen step on this
thing and break it. 1t amt ought to be
let around loose without it's MAJ
"Rot that!' vociferated the brown
sweater. II tell you he's one of the
best sailor men on the front. If he
amt, We'll forfeit the money. Come
on, Captain Kitchell; we made show
enough gettin' away as it was, and
this daytime business amt our line.
D'you sign or not? Here's the advance
note. I got to duck my nut or I'll have
the patrol boat after me-
"1ll sign this once" growled the 9TH
er, scrawling his name on the note.
but if this swab amt up to sample
he'll come back by freight, an I'll drop
In on me dear friend Jim when we
come back and give him a reel nice
time, an you can lay to that, Billy
Trim" The brown sweater pocketed
the note, went over the side and row.
ed off,
Wilbur stood in the waist of a
schooner anchored in the stream well
off Fisherman's wharf. In the for
ward part Of the schooner a Chinaman
in brown duck was mixing paint Will
bur was conscious that he still wore
his high hat and long coat, but his
stick was gone and one gray glove was
slit to the button. In front of him
lowered the enormous red faced man.
A pungent reek of some kind of rancid
tat or oil assailed his nostrils. Over
by Alcatraz ferryboat whistled for
Its slip as it elbowed it's way through
the water.
Wilbur had himself fairly in hand
by now. His wits were all about him,