Evening star., 1932-03-13


x not frightened; only angry because IN
\ some unaccountable fashion he had
slipped backward just as he reached
for the steamng dish. Then he awoke
The maddenng odor of food still tickled his
noStrils; and he could still feel the warmth OF
the steam on his hand But the food smell
quickly resolved itself into the salt pungency
of the beach. And he that the heat
his hand more than the scorching of
the tropic sun.
Famished, and with his belt pulled to its last
hole, Bill lay inert and tried to put thoughts of
food out of his mind. To be sure, he had the
one small COMA peseta-that man had flung
him the day before, for carrying a trunk. But
it too precious to spend unless the hunger
pangs became too much for him. Even then
there were his mates, Custard the little
Cockney, Olson the hulking Swede and Portu-
guese Joe With them he meant to share what
scant sustenance the money would buy.
Presently an insistent pounding in his head
sent his hand to temple. He found lump
there. Something had struck him-perhaps
even knocked him out momentarily. Bill reused
himself. He began to realize what had
happened. That fall-it wasn't entirely a
dream His head had undoubtedly dropped
matter of inches For it no longer rested
his folded coat but in the sand itself Bill
grouped. Then he sat up suddenly. The coat
was gone! And with it had vanished the
money-all that stood between him and starva-
ton.
Bills eyes, blue as the sky above him. soon
ceased their blinking to stare, blazing. at three
figures huddled a little distance away. Then
rage, indignation and resentment seized him
by the scruf of his tanned neck and yanked
him bodily to his feet. His beach comber
friends were going through his coat With
roar he rushed them.
THE startled trio, unashamed as they were
unwashed, scrambled up and faced him in
half circle. Flotsam though they were-these
three sailors-in the 10 days he had spent on
San Gabriel's beach Bill had welcomed their
friendship. Friends! They had beaten him;
robbed him He knew them, at last, for the
scum they now proved themselves.
A wolfsh twist of Custard's lips barred broken,
yellow teeth he jeered, II loves to spoil these
Yankee toffs. Barmy e is Lemme ave first
crack at i'm mytes"
Swede Olson grunted And the beady eyes of
the Portuguese impersonal as two black
buttons as he waited knife in hand.
Bill lunged toward Custard. That runtish
whelp of the British lion promptly forgot his
hearts desire. With an oath he sprang behind
the screen OF Olsons bulk. Bill wheeled. Flat
footed in the sand and caught off his guard
Portuguese Joe could only stand and take it.
Bill presented him with beauty on the button
Then as Bills bony knee found the pit of his
stomach Portuguese Joe folded up like rare
monstrous peach covered with blond fuzz, which
Olson's fist, grazed Bills head as he turned.
Bill bided his time. He danced in and out,
while Olson swung at him with savage sweeps
which threatened to rip his head off.
Meanwhile Custard bobbed and and
raved behind him. wy don't yer 1T i'm? 1t
i'm just oncel"
1T bain't so easy" Olson complained IF
he'd yoost stand still"
Giving ground before the rushes, Bill all but
stumbled over the PROSTATE form of the Por
tuguese. AS he backed away from this hazard
Custard darted forward and bent over the
motionless figure. He was looking for the knife.
Bill promptly crced Olson until he was HIM
self between his two antagonists. And turning
suddenly he grabbed Custard from behind. He
lifted him high in the air, screaming. And
Olson bore in Bill flung Custard at him. Two
heads cracked like twin gourds. And Custard,
screaming no longer fell into the sand. Olson
halted. right smashed like the slashing
kick Of race horse against his jaw. He paved
at Bill AS If he did not clearly see his weaving
opponent He wide open as night club
when Bill stung him with left to the face.
Olson roughed him then wipe of a horny
hand tore at Bills ear. A thumb nail gouged
his cheek. Unheeding, he planted right over
the mans heart and two more on the point of
his chin.
Abruptly the big beach comber sat down in
the sand and rested his head on his arms. "Ay
bain't feelin' goot," he observed
"All right! Your licked. Just remember that"
Bill Flint picked up his rumpled coat and
thrust his hand in a pocket. 1t was gone-the
peseta. They got it, he exclaimed.
Somehow that tenuous anchor to windward
had heartened Bill amazingly. Possessing that,
he could still laugh when his belly tapped
against his backbone. And now the fact that
it was gone coupled with the manner of its
going plunged him into despair. He raised
Sta red Tn,
spite of its Fifth avenue tailor's label no old
clothes man would have wasted second glance
at it. 1t buns coat now-and looked it.
He stood there briefly and gazed at the trim