eches and
boots unlaced, Tim emerged from his iron-walled cell into the
cool-shadowed main room, blinked at McKay and Knowlton lounging over
their morning coffee and cigarettes, stretched his hairy arms, and
advanced sluggishly to the table.

"Yow-oo-hum!" he yawned. "Ain't they cute! All dressed and shaved like
they was goin' to visit the C. O. And here's pore Timmy Ryan lookin'
like a 'drunk and dirty' jest throwed into the guardhouse, and feelin'
worse. Top o' the mornin' to ye, gents!"

"Same to you, Tim," McKay nodded.

"Who hit you?" asked Knowlton, squinting at bumps and scratches on Tim's
forehead.

"Nobody. Couple fellers tried to, but they was out o' luck. Oh, I see
what ye mean! I done that meself while I was gittin' to bed."

"Waves must have been running high on the ocean last night. Better drink
some coffee. Thomaz, another cup--big and black."

"Thanks, Looey. 'Twas kind of an active night, at that."

"I heard you come in," vouchsafed McKay. "Were you trying some high
diving in your room?"

"Faith, I done some divin' without tryin', but 'twas ragged work--I
pulled a belly smacker every time. I got to tame that hammick o' mine.
It throwed me four times hand-running and the only way I could hold it
down was to unhook it and lay it on the floor."

"Sleep well then?"

"I did not. Cap, I thought I knowed somethin' about cooties, but I take
it back--I never knowed nothin' about them insecks till last night.
Where they come from I dunno, but I'll tell the world they come, and if
they wasn't half an inch long I'll eat 'em. They darn near dragged me
off whole, and all the sleep I got ye could stick in a flea's eye.
Lookit here."

He extended an arm dotted with swollen red spots.

"Ants!" said McKay, after one glance. "Ants, not cooties. They're
everywhere. Especially under the floor. That's one reason why folks
sleep in hammocks down here. Even then they're likely to come down the
hammock cords and drive you out."

"Ants, hey? Never thought o' that. And I'd sooner spend another night
fightin' all the man-eatin' jaggers in the jungle than them bugs. It's
the little things that count, as the feller said when his wife give him
his fourteenth baby."

He downed the thick coffee brought by Thomaz, demanded another cup,
accepted cigarette and light from Knowlton, and sighed heavily.

"Who tried to hit you?" Knowlton persisted.

"Aw, I dunno. Two-three fellers took swipes at me with bottles and
thing