The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1910-03-08
CHAPTER TX

Mr. winner secures command.
Captain Harrod, dignified, bare
footed, soft-voioed, unkempt, kept
his lonely vigil on the white
5traight-edge of beach that lay
from Fort Morgan to Perdido Bay
All was of sand, sandy. The sand
colored sandpipers skittered across
the beach before the breezes; pell-
cans in sober beach-gray deliber-
ately skinned the cottony comb
ers bursting on the outer sal. =
bar; porpoises leaped and spouted
in terror when caught in the re-
ceding tide among the sandy shal-
lows near the shore; and once in a
while an evil-eyed shark gloomed
cruelty like spot of darker sand
with cold little eyes) from tie
green water beyond reach Of the
fisherman's gig. To the un,etter-
ed man for seventy years familiar
with such things, however. they
wax undressing.
So one may understand why
Captain Harrod, ignoring land
scape and seascape, devoted him
self to the study of tracks of all
sorts; tracks of foxes examining
the beach for turtles eggs,
months ahead of time; talon
marks of opossums and raccoons
prowling about for crabs, nice
and birds eggs; hoof-marks of
wild hogs, roofing over the mast
under the scrub-oaks; "crawls" OF
alligators. made in nightly jour-
neys between Freshwater Lake
and deep holes in the pools among
the dunes; long scratchy claw
scores of herons from early morn.
ing minuets on the beach; trails
of men going up and down the
sparsely-traveled highway of the
strand; and the footprints of one
in particular, who lurked about
and seemed to be thinking of the
cabin and its inmates. Yes, this
Bedouin sand-science can tell
thoughts by tracks. Tracks in the
sand were to Harrod book, news
paper, telegraph and circulating
library. He knew the language of
sand. He knew several things
that this man might be. A de-
Iserter from the Fort, perhaps,
though such an one would have
been likely to be deserted by the
Icorporal's guard in the scouting
air-ship, and should have skunk in
land by the dense hummocks OF
Bon Secour. Or it might be some
one connected with the revenue
service.
This hypothesis should, of
course, have given the captain no
uneasiness. He was an exem-
plary fisherman, with boat on
shore, and "tresmires" drying on
their stakes, fishing formally on
fine days for reddish, Spanish
mackerel and pompano. HIS
cabin was "Harrod's fishing-camp'
nothing more. What had reve-
huC olLiNClo W w with
BILE piscatorial headquarters as
these? They should not care
about Theodore's hidden inven-
ton. The air-ships keeping their
lanes, east, west, north and south
paid no attention; and if they
were not interested, why need the
revenues bother? The humble
establishment had no connection
with the world save through fish
AS any revenue officer should
have known.
And yet-one day the captain
rearranged his drying nets, solicit
tous as to their draping; and soon
a Shiny sea-monster stuck a blunt
nose out from the water at about
the five-fathom contour line, open-
ed a rectangular mouth, and flicl-
ed square red tongue like an at
CRY snake, until Captain Harrod,
on the highest dune, opened bril-
liant red handkerchief with a
Chautauqua salute, and wiped his
nose deliberately. Whereupon The
sea-monster sank beneath the
brine, and no one but the por-
poises and sharks might say where
a a 4.