Evening star., 1921-03-13

passed. He tipped his "lue-pI iHiHSu .
hat to them and looked them stralght
in the eye with glance ootn pehish II
and inscrutable.
"A glorious day. gentlemen
Pug and the consul uncovered rev.
erently before the incorrupt1oie pank-
er. But when he had turned the cor
ner. talking slowly in the shaoow ol
at the cloudless sky. frowned, ana
said, briefly: "Whiskers!
Peterson went on, to the eSplanaoe-
The Liberia had come In from Porto
Bio, bringing cargo OF mlsnt Her-
chandise, canned goods. phonographs.
had conglomerate assortmeh. OIL AZ
venturers in the modern style-JeW-
elry merchants. tintype. artists. lire
insurance peddlers. professional SOL
diers and professional loafers. Ihe
first boat1oad was coming ashore.
propelled across the glittering harbor
by a sweating crew OF haIf-naksd
natives Peterson went down on the
beach and watched the landing; he
liked to come into contact with the
great outside world. the world he had
dreamed of for twenty years. Some
day he and Cora were gong ABOARD
the Liberia. to sail forever out of the
harbor. northward to crowded. gilt
tering cities, to civilization. to pleas
ure. They were almost done with this
land Of sunshine and languor. They
were almost done with the deadly
monotony of the honest years.
Just then John Peterson caught
sight of young man who was in
charge of one of the Liberta's boats.
He was standing upright. shouting to
the oa rsmen as the overloaded craft
shot through the surf and plunged
nose-first into the white sand of the
beach. A tall, sandy-haired young
ster. in a blue flannel shirt and khaki
frn, DAk OF TIM n a
felt his heart leap in his breast.
"As like as two pennies" he thought,
licking his lips.
He tipped his hat over his eyes and
strolled down to the waters edge for
better look at the sandy-haired
American. The youngster stood at
the tiller, shouting orders in pretty
variety of bilingual cuss words,
sort of good-humored. gentle tongue
lashing meant to sting the native
boatmen into something like action.
They jumped out into the shallow
surf. beached the heavy boat. and
stood by while the passengers came
ashore.
Peterson mingled with the crowd. a
towering. conspicuous man of the
north. The tropic sun giIded his
magnificent beard. And the sandy
haired American, suddenly relaxing
to mop his brow with a red bandanna
L.
corruptible banker of Magella. For a
moment their Craze crossed. Peter
son felt a drowning wave of terror,
but his face was expressionless. He
glanced beyond the American to the
open harbor. where the rusty Liberia
dozed at anchor. Then he turned on
his heel and walked slowly back to
he stretched himself in his favorite
wicker chair. clenched his hands. and
gazed with lackluster eyes into the
past.
The sandy haired youngster. in the
meantime had done several astound-
ing things. First he stared after the
towering figure Of the banker as If
he could not believe his eyes. There
was smoldering fury. hate and a sort
of glad surprise in his glance. He
stood rigid by the tiller OF the Lib
erta's boat. unconscious Of the burn
ing sun which beat down on the top
of his head with the whitening in
tensity of sun plus a magnifying
lens. He was like man struck dumb
by a new. great idea or one who has
just realized an overwhelming am
bition. Suddenly he leaped into the
sand and ran after John Peterson at
top speed. leaving the Liberta's land
ing boat to its fate. The native
oarsmen looked after him with star
tied eyes, then shrugged their shout
ders and squatted in the hot sands,
to wait until he chose to return.
These Americani were always a little
pazzi. He would come back-poco
tempo. In such wise, with cowlike
patience, they mixed Italian and
Spanish and gossiped softly on the
rim of the beach.
The sandy-haired youngster reach :
ed the esplanade and found that the
giant banker had disappeared in one