Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 23, 1924 — page 7: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SHIFTING SANDS. so when he recovered and scrambled to his feet groggily. ‘““ Pay me!” Captain Scruggs counted out the money in American bills. : “Now, you write me a statement that you owed it to me and my time is up on your blasted tub!” Scruggs laboriously wrote as dictated, using an old memorandum book resting on the head of a barrel. The sentry witnessed it. Watson put the leaf in his pocket. “* Now—you kicked me once on that ship —you blasted, bullying devil! I’m going to give it back to you—with interest!” He collared Scruggs and began using his right shoe upon him with astonishing force and rapidity. Scruggs now screeched in dead earnest for the police. His yells were. making an awful racket in that resounding warehouse. “Hey! Shut up that row!” The sentry collared Scruggs. ‘‘ Watson, you go ahead and report at the guard room. ‘This here blackbird from furrin parts says he wants to file a complaint against you. I gotter take him on up to the officer of the day. The guard detail is near the gate. And if I should never see you again—you should lose your way or anything—I want to say I ain’t never seen a more satisfactory job of lickin’ done up in Yazoo County!” Taking the hint, Watson walked rapidly across to the other side of the warehouse, out on the wharf, and toward shore. The sentry insisted that he must have a formal complaint before he arrested a free-born American citizen, and forced the protesting Scruggs to accompany him—in a different direction from that taken by Watson. Elated, feeling that scores had been evened up, and with self-respect returning, Breck Watson hurried out and down the coconut shaded road through Cristobal to- ward Colon. He had an idea that distance between him and the guard would save a lot of talk. He came abreast of the Panama Railway Station, saw the conductor give the go- ahead signal, and the waiting passenger train began to slowly pull out. Something whispered to Watson that Old Panama might be healthier for him than 165 Colon and international complications. He dashed past the ticket chopper at the gate, caught the rail, and swung up on the rear platform of the moving train. CHAPTER II. LOOSE TONGUE. T Panama City, Watson left the depot hurriedly, making for a clothing store, where he invested in a complete new outfit, hat and shoes. included. Then he found an American barber shop on Avenida Central, and luxuriated in a scalding hot bath and a prolonged cold shower afterward. Dressing, he submitted to the ministrations of the barber. There stepped out of that shop later a jaunty, clean shaven chap with a square jaw, closely cropped hair and clear, scintil- Jant blue eyes of peculiar directness, Around the edges were little lines that gave him an expression as if half laughing. The same hint lurked about the corners of his mouth, and when his lips smiled his even white teeth added to his appearance. He held himself upright—the Windsor Castle was a bad dream. The immaculate, rejuvenated Watson had only three dollars left, but he felt him- self a man and a gentleman again. Buying a package of American cigarettes, and light- ing one, he sauntered up to the great Tivoli Hotel, on Zone territory—American head- quarters in Panama City. : In the hotel writing room he indited sev- eral sizzling epistles to his late connections in business. He demanded a remittance sufficient to ease him financially, and ex- penses home for further conversation on the subject of his being cut adrift without warning five thousand miles from the USA. Realizing the necessity of temporary em- ployment, Watson walked down to the American consulate general, where the con- sul, good friend and aid to his countrymen, was interested immediately he heard Wat- son’s story. “What can you do?” he inquired en- couragingly. ‘ Well,” mused Breck, “ I’ve punched Gomichbooks eee