All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 120: what you’re looking at

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110 “ Run like hell,” he counseled. ‘“‘ But where?” ‘“ Overboard.” | He dragged her across the sand and out into the water. Waist deep they paused and looked back. The young man in flannels had followed to the edge of the water, where he stood holding a handkerchief to his nose and shaking a fist. ‘You come ashore!”’ he yelled. “We can’t, sir. It’s private,” said Pete, with a biand grin. “Come back here. you!” ‘We can’t come back,” said Pete, ‘‘ but we invite you to join us, dear old thing.” The young man stood irresolute, glaring at them. Then he looked down at his flan- nels and edged backward a step from the water. “Tm going to have you arrested!” he cried, as he turned and ran in the direction of the house. Pete waved him a gay salute. Well, come on,” he said to Mary. 66 Wherer”’ ‘To a more friendly coast. use this one any more.’ He struck out into the harbor and Mary followed. I’m going to thrash We can’t CHAPTER XIX. THE SPOILERS. HEY followed the shore for a while and presently a bend in its contour hid their view of the unfriendly har- bor. It was an aimless journey. They were safe from the revenge of the young man in white flannels, but they were as far as ever from any project of rescue. Mary swam in a listless, automatic fashion; there was no longer any zest of sport. She was not tired, but her enthusiasm had oozed away. As for Pete, he also felt that there had been enough swimming for a day. ‘“‘ Shall we try that place in there?’ she asked, lifting her arm above the water and pointing. “Tm for it,” he answered, with a nod. “I’m not going to be a poor fish any lon- ALL-STORY WEEKLY. ; " ger. I don’t care if they meet us with 4 shotgun committee.” . Their second landing place was devoid of a beach, but it had shelving, sunwarmed rocks, upon which they climbed out and sat down. ‘“T never suspected you were a fighter,” observed Mary, the recent picture still fresh in Memory. ‘Tm not. I’m a baseball player, by rights. That was what they call the hit- and-run play.” ‘Well, I think you did evcellently, Peter. I was just getting ready to do something like that myself. Was his nose bleeding?” ‘ Here’s hoping. While I don’t claim to be within a mile of Signor Antonio alen- tino’s class, I have a fixed impression that by this time the young gentleman has a beak like a pelican.” Mary glanced appreciatively at her knight. “I’m glad Mr. Marshall wasn’t there,” she said. 66 Why P”’ “Tf he had hit him the young man would probably be dead, and then we’d have lots of trouble.” ‘“ Now, that,” ‘said Pete, in an aggrieved tone, “ is what I call ungrateful. I hit the bird as hard as I could, didn’t I? I don’t see and need of dragging the bess into this, by way of comparison. Of course, if you can’t get him out of your head—”’ “Nonsense! He’s not in my head. I said I was glad he wasn’t there, didn’t I? And I explained why. I didn’t mean to take any credit away from you at all. Don’t be so sensitive. Are you hungry?” Pete groaned. “There! Now -you’ve done it. I’ve been busy trying to forget it and you’ve de- liberately made me remember it. Of course I’m hungry. If I don’t eat I’m going to die.” “So am I.” Pete stood up and looked about him. -“ T don’t see any coconut palms or bread- fruit trees,” he said. ‘“ That’s what we're supposed to live on, isn’t it? I don’t even see a drink of water. It’s an awful. come- down for a pair of Robinson Crusoes, but it looks as if I'd have to go to somebody’s kitchen door and ask for a handout.” comiclboolk C©