n't no joke! Gosh! Think of all the things that's
layin' out there and bellerin' and waitin' for us pore li'l' fellers to
come in amongst 'em and git et up."

"You'll find the same things in the cities up home," said Knowlton, a
bit cynically. "Different bodies and different methods of attack, but
the same merciless animals under the skin. Snakes in silk
suits--foul-mouthed alligators in dinner jackets--hunting-cats and
vampires, painted and powdered--and all the rest of it."

"Yeah. Ye said a mouthful, Looey. But say, Tommy's shovin' some grub on
the table. Mebbe we better hop to it before the flies git it all."

After a glance at the vicious attack already begun by the aforesaid
flies, the pair adopted Tim's suggestion and hopped to it. Manfully they
assailed the rubbery jerked beef, black beans, rice, farinha, and thick,
black, unsweetened coffee which comprised the meal. All three were
wrestling with chunks of the meat when Tim, facing the door, stopped
chewing long enough to mutter:

"Dutchland overalls. Here's the goose stepper."

The heads of the other two involuntarily moved a little. Then their
necks stiffened and they continued eating. Tim alone stared straight at
a burly, black-whiskered Teuton who had halted in the outer doorway. And
Tim alone saw the ugly look crossing the newcomer's visage as he gazed
at the khaki shirts, the broad shoulders under them, and the
unmistakably Irish--and hostile--face of Tim himself.

Catching the hard stare of the red-haired man, he of the black beard
advanced at once, his eyes veering to the door of his own room. Straight
to that room he marched with heavy tread. He opened the door with a
kick, shut it behind him with a slam. The three at the table glanced at
one another.

"Say what ye like," grumbled Tim, "but me and that guy don't hold no
mush party. I don't like his map. I don't like his manners. And he looks
too much like the Fritz that shot me in the back with a kamerad gun
after surrenderin'. I was in hospital three months. D'ye mind that time,
Looey?"

Knowlton nodded. He remembered also that Tim, shot down from behind and
almost killed, had reeled up to his feet and bayoneted his man before
falling the second time. Wherefore he replied:

"He isn't the same one, Tim."

"Nope," grimly. "That one won't never come back. All the same, if you
gents want to chew the fat with this feller I'm goin' slummin' with me
friend Joey Mouthgargle Nabisco Whoozis. Then I