Evening Star Newspaper, March 13, 1932, Page 81

;TON, D. C., MARCH bag on the bed and began to hunt for his pass- port. IGHT was fast swallowing the short tropic twilight when Bill heard some one fum- bling at the lock. The sound brought him out of the bed in one bound. He stole to the door and listened. The rattling of dishes told him that the jailers were bringing him supper. But though Bill wanted food, he craved free- dom more. He flattened himself against the door, and waited. Soon the lock clicked and the door opened. “Senor!” a man’s voice called. Bill made no answer. Then, two feet away, a head peered through the opening. Bill struck at it. A crash followed as the tray dropped on the tiled floor. He leaped over the moaning figure sprawled on the threshold. As he ran swiftly across the patio a dark form appeared, framed in the yellow oblong of the doorway of the room where Bill had talked with the two plotters. This one sang out, “Que hay? What is it? What was that noise, Pancho?” Bill guessed that the speaker, coming out of the lighted cafe, could see but little. He was almost upon the fellow when the man saw, and recongnized, him. “The Americano!” he gasped. Bill leaped at him. But he was too late to choke off the startled cry for help that split the silence of the courtyard. It died in a gurgle as Bill caught the man by the throat. The rush carried them inside the rcom. Bill slammed his quarry against the wall, to drop him instantly and dash for the passage that led to the cafe itself. The next moment he halted, crouching. Be- fore his eyes the hall belched enemies. The emost jumped at him. Bill met him with long straight left. Hit in midair, his assail- t fell backward and collapsed like a half- mptied sack of meal, checking the human ream behind him. Then somebody fired. But Bill had slipped aside, to seize the iron- ppped table. And now, holding it in front of im like a shield, he charged. Shouts, curses, ore shots followed as Bill's battering ram oughed into men’s bodies Then the lights went out.” In the gloom nds caught at Bill and he stook them off im shapes attacked him and he beat them Wil At last the pace began to tell cn him A mor clutched at his knees. His breath came great soblike gasps. Then something agdinst the base of his skull and Bill down. Still conscious, but helpless, he motionless while struggling men surged over Feet trampled him. Presently somebods 11 exclaimed, “Por Dios! He is on the floor! and he is very still.” Exhausted, almost stunned, Bill made no effort to resist the hands that fumbled at him to determine whether he still lived. He had made his play, and lost. Thenceforth his cap- tors would leave him no loophole for escape. Or only the one! For there was still the sinister bargain—the bargain to kill a man. By that act, and that alone, he might save himself. But at what cost! Bill knew he would never agree to it. A light appeared—a smoking oil lamp borne by a waiter. “He is hurt,” one of the men observed. “You must have struck hard, Pepe.” Bill could feel the heat of the lamp and smell its villainous reek as the men bent over him. While they talked he seemed to hear other, and familiar, voices strangely inter- mingled with the staccato Spanish of his captors. Voices that spoke English of a sort. He knew that they could not be real. It was delirium. He tried not to listen. Suddenly a shrill, wiry complaint rose above the babble. “ ‘Ere y’ are. Look! I told yer I 'ad the brass to pay fer 'em . . . Wot? It ’int enough fer three drinks? Nothing small abaht you, is there? W'y give us two, then. An’ damn yer soul, you 'and out the reel stuff!” Custard! No fevered brain could reproduce that Whitchaple whine. Custard was there, in the cafe, with Olson and Joe, buying liquor with the peseta they had stolen from him! A smile twitched at Bill's bruised and bleed- ing lips. Then suddenly some one snatched at the lamp and hurled it point-blank into a group of startled men. Darkness. Then a quick flare. Liquid fiames Hcked at dodging feet. Some one shrieked, — “Candela! Fire!” Bill shouted. “Custard! Joe!"” In the rush the two men collided, some to stumble blaspheming into the burning oil. Bill fought his way to the front exit. Swept along the passage, he burst into the big room. “BIi’ me!” Custard gasped. A glass of something, red as carnclian. flew from his grubby paw. His face twisted rue- fully as he threw it. Then, with the odd whinny that served him for laughter, he went into action ROM the wreck of the cafe four figures slunk into the night. Soft breeze blowing against their hot faces. Portuguese Joe forging ahead. “Yus!” Bill heard Custard’s whine beside him. “Ole 'ere, seen you with them Spig coves, ‘E knew they was 'ard cases. 'E follered you An when me an’' Joe come to, we follered 'im. We been a-watching, that cantina h'ever sence. An’ when them two blighters come out, an’ you don’'t, we begun to worry abaht yer. That's w'y we barged in. Thought mybe you needed elp.” Portuguese Joe was singing now. in a low and plaintive minor. Bill smiled. Back home. Back among real friends—real friends, after all. The only friends he had in the whole wide world. His smile faded as he tried to brush away thoughts that came crowding in upon him, thoughts of Janet Carson and his father. They had cast him out of their hearts. No room for those two upon that welcoming beach. There, for another night at least, was haven under the stars. Bill wrenched his eyes from the heavens and spoke. ‘“‘Bear right! That's the Southern Cross up there. You fellows are headed for the docks We don't want to go there.” Custard answered out of the darkness. “The 'ell yer sye! That's just where we're a-goin’, mytey. Us blokes ’'int on the beach no more. Shipped on a Austrylian tramp, we 'as. The Sumba. She syls at dyebreak.” Bil! caught his breath. ‘“You—you're leav- ing!” They were on the dock now. A ship's side loomed above them. Suddenly Bill beard his name, as if spoken from three thousand miles away. “Is William Flint there?” Ahead of them the lights of the gangway- revealed a familiar bulky figure. Then down the gangway came a girl in a white coat. Bill halted, unbelieving The next moment he found himself running, unaccountably, and shouting, “Janet! Dad!™” A little later, in a corner of the deserted smoke room, while Bill played havoc with the sandwich tray, James Flint was saying, “You see, we've had various reports of you—Janet and I. You didn't know it; but we two formed a sort of partnership, before you ever left home. The commodity we've handled, Bill, is—you. Since you've been in San Gabriel it's been easy to keep tabs on you. President Pena is my friend. Through him I've just landed a power and light concession. He's been trying to find you today to give you that job you applied for at the old plant that I expect to scrap.” Bill began to laugh—a nervous, high-pitched laugh that was oddly unlike his usual one. “A job! Sure . . . to kill a man. I wonder if you'll believe that the only one I seemed able to land was the job of killing this presidential friend of yours. Because I turned it down 1! look a shade worse than I would have, other- wise. I've been in a fight. It was a pip, too.” “So your friends have been telling me,” his father replied. “Well, I made it worth their while. And the San Gabriel Light and Power Co. will make it worth yours. We need young fellows with gumption, and——" He stopped abruptly. Janet smiled. “You may as well say it, Mr. Flint. Don't we know that Bill has everything you want?” (Copyright. 1932.) Match-Making for Resort Hotels Continued from Second Page pretty an exhibition as I have ever seen, but unfortunately I didn’t have the time to devote myself to esthelic apprecia- tion. Action—and immediate action— was called for. I rushed to Wilkins’ rescue, with Evan- geline shrieking at my heels, but arrived only to see the infuriated old boy seize the astonished (and, I suppose, some- what hurt) Tobias with both hands and fling him over the porch railing. This, 1 thought to myself, ties it. Evangeline will never forgive Wilkins for not letting Tobias play on his head, and Wilkins, in turn, will never devote himself to the owner of such a dangerous animal. What peace could they expect in married life if Wilkins could never feel his head safe from Tobias? What mutual understand- ing could he ever hope to reach with Evangeline with that polished sphere al- ways between them? My fears seemed to be justified. Evan- geline rushed to pick up Tobias and then faced her ex-admirer. “You cruel, cruel man!” she sobbed. “I thought you were so kind and such a true friend. Never did I think I would live to see the day when you would at- tack a defenseless little puppy so brutal- ly. A great, big, strong man like you!” Wilkins was still sore—at least, his head was—but that last sentence got under his skin. “Great, big, strong man,” indeed! “Madam,” he said with dignity, “I am indeed sorry if I mistreated your— your—that, er, puppy, but what could you expect me to do? Let him run on my head until his feet got tired? Ouwr, er, friendship has meant a great deal to me, but it cannot continue as long as you have that dog. I would never feel safe. You will have to choose be- tween him and me.” Evangeline sniffed some more and hugged Tobias to her. “I could never, never give up my Tobias for any man. You mustn't ask me to give him up—it would break my heart.” She drew herself up and looked very regal. “No, Mr. Wilkins, there can be “nothing further between us. My choice is made.” They’'d forgotten I was there, appar- ently, but, touching as the scene was, I couldn’t concentrate on it. Something had to be done to patch things up and I would have to do it. The old brain did double-flips and high jumps. “Evangeline!” pleaded Wilkins. “I have made up my mind,” she said coldly and started to walk off. “Wait!” said I. “Mr. Wilkins, may I speak to you privately for one minute?” Evangeline stood by while I conversed in lowered tones with the distraeted lover. In five minutes they were smiling happily at each other—the day was sav- ed. The Tremont would keep two of its highest paying guests and would, at the same time, know peace. A hotel clerk in his time has to be most everything from a doctor to a judge—but that was the first time I had ever been a toupee salesman. (Copyright, 1932, by Kay Kennedy.) Low Prices Aid Menu-Balanciizg HE present era of low prices for foodstuffs, particularly fruits, has been ideal for the followers of the “acid-ash, alkaline-ash” school of dieting. Under this method of menu balancing it is customary to eat two or three foods the residue of which is alkaline for each food which has an acid reaction. Such a diet naturally places great reliance on fruits for the alkaline reac- tions, practically all fruits but plums and prunes falling im the alkaline group. The cit- rus fruits, while acid, are in reality alkaline in their final state. The theory on which the diet is built is that the blood maintains itself in an alkaline state. When the food has a preponderance of acid content this acid is carried in the blood stream to various parts of the body, where it is ousted from the blood into the tissues, with a re- sultant loss to the tissues. The carbonic .ncid which is generated from the digestion of the carbohydrates is thrown off through the lungs. The acid foods, naturally, contain food ele- ments highly essential to growth and mainte- nance of the body, but the acid residue is held by exponents of the diet to be harmful and therefore they assure the neutralization of the acid by the preponderance of alkaline foods. The diet is easily worked out, for the foods are clearly grouped. All meats, fish eggs, fowl, nuts and cereals fall in the acid class, along with prunes, plums. coffee, tea and cocoa. In the alkaline group fall all vegetables, including the starchy potatoes, all dairy products and fruits. Spinach, of course, leads the list of the al- kalines, showing 113 units of alkali per hun- dred calories, with lettuce, chard, cucumbers, celery and figs well up on the list On the acid side, oysters rank at the top, with 30 units per hundred calories, and sea foods in general rank high. Chicken is far more acid than pork chops, for instance, and the cereals are near the bottom of the list. Therefore, a meal which contains meat amd two vegetables, together with a salad, either fruit or vegetable, can easily stand a desert which would contain flour and egg. A break- fast with orange or grapefruit juice, milk, egg or bacon, toast and fruit other than prunes would meet the requirements of the diet. The proponents of this type of balanced meal claim that it goes far toward limiting fatigue, nervousness, sleeplessness and their attendant evils. With food prices as low as they are, with green vegetables at moderate prices all Winter, at least such a selection of food does not fall in the luxury class. ~ Danger From Quicksands Great ly Exa goerated UICKSANDS, the danger of which has been grossly exaggerated through myth- ical tales of the past, are caused largely by the fact that the sand of which they are composed is underlain with heavy clay. The clay, being impenetrable to water, keeps the sand above in such a moist condition that concentrated weights cannot be borne on the surface. The belief that quicksands “suck” their vie- _tims down is erroneous, of course, for the action is rather the pushing downward of the weight above. Because of its wet nature, the sand is forced aside as the sinking object goes down and then forced back by its own weight with increasing pressure as the f veign object goes deeper. It is this pressure from the side to- gether with the bottomless nature of the sand that gives the impression of a pull from below. Persons caught in denser quicksands can often save themselves by lying out flat, thus distributing their weight over a much greater area than the narrow expanse of their feet. The quicksands are usually found aiound the mouths of large rivers or bays where tide water keeps the sands conrtem‘ly stirred up and wet. A :