by hardships, showed no trace of panic.

"I know all about it," he said. "It is the latest step on the route of
all evil taken by that fanatical person whom I shall presently call
father-in-law. He is not content with arresting people found drinking.
This morning they began to seize people who THINK about drinking. Any
one who is guilty of thinking, in an affirmative way, about liquor, is
to be interned in the Federal Home for a course in mental healing."

"But how can they tell?" asked Bleak, nervously.

"I don't know," said Quimbleton. "Perhaps they have a kind of Third
Degree, flash a seidel of beer on you suddenly, and if you make an
involuntary gesture of pleasure, you're convicted. Perhaps they've
invented an instrument that tells what you think about. Perhaps they
just arrest you on suspicion. At any rate all the folks who have been
thinking about booze are being collected and sent over here. I know
because I've seen most of my friends arriving all morning. I suppose
they'll get me next. I don't much care as long as I've had something to
eat."

"Virgil, dear," said Miss Chuff, "you MUSTN'T give up hope now, after
being so brave. You know I'll stand by you to the end--to the very
dregs."

"If only I had some disguise," said Quimbleton sadly, "it wouldn't be
so bad. But I must confess that these breath detectors and other
unscrupulous instruments they use have rather unnerved me."

Bleak suddenly remembered, and thrust his hand in his hip-pocket. He
pulled out the hank of white beard that had floated down from the
airplane a few days before. It was much crumpled, but intact.

"Good man!" cried Quimbleton. "My jolly old beard!" He clapped it onto
his face and beamed hopefully. "Now, if there were some way of getting
rid of this tell-tale uniform--"

They discussed this problem at some length, sitting in the sheltered
bowl of sand, while Quimbleton finished his lunch. Bleak's suggestion
of stitching together a sort of Robinson Crusoe suit of rhododendron
leaves did not meet Quimbleton's approval.

"No Robinson trousseau for me," he said. "I thought of pasting together
the leaves of The Bartender's Benefactor, but I'm afraid that would be
rather damning. No, I don't see what to do."

"I have it!" said Theodolinda, gleefully. "I've got a sewing kit in the
car--we'll unrip the upholstery and I can stitch you up a suit in no
time. At least it will be better than the C. P. H. get-up, which would
take you in f