The Washington times., 1937-08-05

Tim was thinking that he
would have to scour his hands
thoroughly, to get out the odor
of turpentine, before washing
the coffee urns for the next day,
but he was fascinated by the
broadcast of the man hunt.
He listened, leaning on one
elbow on the counter, and looked
out on the highway, keeping his
eye with absent-minded pride on
his new electric sign in front OF
his lunch wagon.
Traffic on the highway was
at the lowest ebb. Mostly hulk
ing, shadowy freight trucks were
rolling by, and Tim did not care
for that kind of trade. He was
thinking that he might switch
off the sign and save on cleo
tricity, but he liked the amber
glow of t., flashing electric
bulbs. Two police motorcycles,
with shrieking sirens, swept past
Tins lunch-wagon, giving weird
reality to the exciting radio de-
scription of the statewide hunt
for the killers. Tim twirled the
dial and got it louder.
"The bandits are armed and
desperate" rasped the old-fash-
toned loudspeaker on the over
head shelf. They're ruthless
killers when cornered. There's
ten thousand dollars reward for
their capture, but it's no job for
Mr.. Average Citizen. The entire
countryside is warned by the
police to be on guard. If you
should see their car, phone to
the police, but be careful. The
two lives that have been lost in
the bank robbery
Tim reluctantly switched on
the radio and walked outside.
through the side door. He dal-
lied on the graveled parking
lot in front of his lunch-Wagon,
inspecting the fresh paint on
the steps to the front en-
trance, admiring it in the glow
of the electric sign over it
flashing to the surrounding
night his brief oneword mes
sage: EAT"
ROUGH CUSTOMERS
He began to set up a barri-
cade of empty egg crates
around the stairs, to protect
the fresh paint job against
possible providers in the night.
or animal footprints. A large
car came tearing down the
road, made a sudden turn,
careened dangerously. and
came to a stop in front Of
Tins lunch-wagon, the rear
wheels digging into the gravel
and leaving tortuous ruts thsA
scratched like scars on Tins
heart.
Crazy drunkS!" he mumhled
jumping out of the way.
Two men hoped out Of the
car and dashed for the lunch
wagon. =,
"Just one minute. gents"
Tim cried out. Il just painted
the front steps. Come in
through the other door. I was
gonna close. It's late"
But the men didn't heed
him. They stepped on the wet
paint, and scrambled inside
the lunch-wagon. One Of them
kicked viciously at a crate that
blocked the way, and parked a
menacing command to Tim to
come inside.
Tim walked in through the
end door, unhurried. He saw
the footprints of wet paint on
the new linleum floor, and
grumbled.
STOP CRYING"
Look what you gents done to
my floor" he complained: I
Just laid a new linoleum floor
and it cost me plenty"
"C'mon, you!" growled the
stockier one of the two. stop
crying, and rustic up some
food for us. Hurry up, we
amt got no time. And no
monkey business, see."
"C'mon, coffee first" or
dered his companion, snatch
ing a cut of pie in his paw
and wolfing it down.
Tim poured out two cups OF
coffee and made sandwiches
for them. They gobbled up the
food ravenously. Tim leaned
on the counter, as though
waiting for further orders ana
looked down on the newspaper
on the floor on, which he had
placed the can of paint. The
faces of his two customers
stared up at him from under
a large headline on the front
page. The men watched him
closely.
"You gents, mind if I sort
of finish the steps," he SAID.
IT want to close soon and go
home"
A WARNING
He reached down under the
counter with one hand. Both
men jumped up, and one OF
them grabbed his hand. Hey!
What're you takin' there be-
hind the counter" Tim
brought UP his hand with the
paint brush, and smiled The
two men exchanged a twisted
grin, and relaxed. They leaned
over the top of the counter
~aw capS and stacks of dishes,