I, THE KING ] By WAYLAND WELLS WILLIAMS. (Copyright, 1124.) (Continurd from Kwterdajr.) “And you think you'd make a bet ter one than I.—Well, possibly you would. But the decision about that rests with the natives, and if they’d thought you’d make a better one they’d have asked you.” "Huh, they’d have asked me, p'raps, if I’d gone out for it.” "Do you mean to imply that I went out for it? Tou're talking nonsense." Masson closed his mouth and turned away. “What do I get out of this?” It was not an easy question to an swer, especially as he so plainly de served nothing. “Well, Masson, you've a right to ask that, but it's hard to say. It’s hard to say what I'm getting out of it, beyond what 1 had before. About all a man needs, or can use, in this place is a house and food. Oh, and women.” Masson gave one of his rare ugly smiles. “More’n you need, heh?” “Oh,” said Kit easily, though he felt his cheeks grow hot, “I don’t pretend to be better than you in that respect. Of course, if we stay here any length of time, I’ll . . . there’ll be women." Masson with a ludicrously satirical inflection uttered the single word “Queens." “Yes, queens, to be sure. Well, now about you. How would you like to be commander-ln-chlef of the army? I’d thought of organizing a squad or two of young fellows. Might be useful against the Tenguians. You could teach ’em to drill, and all that. ” “Xaw," said Masson promptly. “Too much like work.” “Oh. I shall probably do it myself, in any case. Well, can you think of anything?” Masson stared at the floor for a moment. "About these guns the nig gers talked about. You ain't got any notion, have you? . . .” “Why, yes, they’re in that place behind here. That cellar door effect.” “Ain't there no way we could get at ’em?” "Certainly. The file in the dory.” "Huh? What’s that?” Masson for tiie first time was moved. “Where is it?” “Oh. I’ve taken it out. I did that the first day. That's the chief rea; son they made me king, I dare say.” "Well, ain’t you going to trot it out?” Masson’s tone was shrill and aggrieved. "Of course not. Let loose a bunch of armed savages? Not much.” r New York ••Day by Day— S - ■ ——w By o. o. McIntyre New York, Nov. 5.—There Is a row of second-hand clothing shops near Pennsylvania station as brisk with noise of trade as the Constantinople bazars. This is the theater of the yokel yanker" those odd salesmen who lure you Into the master sales men. The "yokel yanker" is ragged and unkempt. His face is blurry from booze. He spots his prospective pa non amoung the passing pedestrians and then tries to wheedle him into this shop. If a sale is made he gets three per cent of the total. Sometimes they will follow for a block, cajoling and haranguing. The shops are open until long after mid night. Grotesque dummies with clothes 1 tanging loosely on them are out front. Inside is a dim light for the wares cannot stand exposure. The "yankers" have a speech all their own. They begin "Niftlc clothes, gentlemen." And rud their hands as one might do over some beauti ful work of art. "We can make you a sporty gentlemen the ladies will ( like. Cheap, very, very, cheap," they purr. They have their code. One will never try to win a prospect away < from another unless at failure he is given a wave of the hand w'hlch signifies: "You try him” Nearly all the trade of these shops comes from the “yokel yankers." Without them the stores could not survive. Once inside, very few get away , without buying something or other. It may not be a snit of cloths, hut if not, it will be a pair of socks, shoes or suspenders. Second-hand men are superstitious about not making sales. If the customer dosen’t buy he is lible to be insulted. Trade amoung these shops is not confined altogether to those of lean purse. Many Broadway actors patron ize them and take their purchases to : a famous tailor who makes them over ' into the reigning style of the day. He has made a fortune recasting old clothes for stage folk. It has always seemed to me the most solemn of all trades Is that of a grave digger. The other day I talked to one. His father before him was a grave digger and yet he ap peared untouched by his lugubrious task. Ills talk was flavored with humor. He had a loud infectious laugh. Another profession that rather stirs up curiously Is that of an eye brow plucker in a beauty parlor. tVhat fling of destlng hurls a person into this occupational niche? There are several little beauty shops In town specializing In this sop to van ity The pluckers are usually lieauti ful young girls. They are paid from 150 lo $80 a week and their tips are almost half-of that. There are signs that the nM horse drawn barouche or victoria, of 60 years ago, Is facing a revival of popu larity. More than 60 spic and span new onea now patrol the avenue. Young couples and old loll back and ,1og dreamily to the beauties of Cen tral park. The fare Is about half the pric e of a taxi over the same route. There are at least a lialfdoxen old homes—brown stone fronts that are caught in the cluster of sky sc rapera in midtown. They are aus tore and freighted with the Icy aloof ness of New York’s aristocracy. One sees white capped elderly ladles at the curtained windows peeping out now and then at the mad Jungle. The homes are as forbidding as prisons and the only show of life Is when faithful family servltora atep out at night for a stroll and pipe smoke. These sre families who refuse to give awsy to rising real estate values. They hold on knowing that each day will more than likely make their properly inore valuable. Thare la one on Madl son avenue near Forty-third street. Another on Fifth avenue below For U«th. ... . ***** ilwyrtibt 1»24. k "Well, see here. This is a hell of a thing. You mean you've hidden It?" "Yes, just that." The sailor relapsed into silence, chewing his nails. He was stupid, thought Kit. Never to have thought of the cellar door, or the tile, till he was told, and wanting to open the Pandora's box for the sheer love of trouble. And if he had done his duty as a seaman, and locked the tool box before leaving the dory, he might be king of the island at this moment. Masson opened his mouth. "I want that file." "Do you?” said Kit, smiling. Masson swung round quickly. “You asked me what I wanted, didn't you? Well, I want that.” "You can’t have it." Masson hesitated a moment and then began to use a loud and blus tering tone. “Look a-here now, New ell. Y'ou handed me a lot o’ bull the other day about us bein’ free and equal and all that. Well, I got a right to know where that file is. I got as much right ns you to it, see? And by God . . ." "Yes,” said Kit. "by God?” "I’m gnln’ to, by God. Y’es, and I will, too.” There was a short, dry pause, "Mas son," said Kit, "you haven’t got much brains. Don’t you see that if we opened that place it would do us harm and not good? It would simply arm the natives against us, put ’em nut of our control. As long as we’ve got the threat of opening it, we’ve got them where we want them. Hut once it was opened, and the least lit tie thing happened, what show' would "It wouldn't be we two," snorted Masson. 1 Kit got up and swung himself across the room. "Masson, you're the kind thnt likes trouble. You'll get it, good and plenty, if you keep on like this. You fool! Don’t you know it would be the easiest thing in the world for rrte to open that place some night, take out a gun and shoot you? Or I could get a native to do it. No one would ever know, in any case. By God, I'll do it. too, if you go on trying to make trouble here. I'm not going to let you stand in the way of peace on this island. You may as well get this straight, Masson: I in tend to be king over you as well as the rest of the island. I’ve got a hard job as it is, and I'm damned if I let you make it any harder.” He was talking hard, and from the heart. Masson sat staring at the loor, impressed in spite of himself. Kit swung round on him again. "And don’t you think you can make It any better for yourself by killing me, either. You can, of course, any ' time. You could do It now, with your Dare hands, I don’t doubt. But you'd I jet found out. You’re too much of i fool to do It safely. There'd be a ;ourt-martial the minute you got back. . . . And it wouldn't get you he file either, would it? And just how well do you think you'd get on Hone with the natives? They're a pretty straight bunch, and they haven't got much use for a man whose whole idea Is drink, women ind trouble. You'd go a little too far some night, and it would be all jp with you, I can tell you, unles* [ was here." That was about all he had to say. He took a turn around the room, rllowed a longer pause and came to a atop directly in front of Masson. He tried to make his tone friendly but not too ingratiating. "Now then, that's that. But you mustn't think I'm against you. as long as you be have yourself. After all, we've been through something together. . . . i want to see you contented here, of course. I won’t stand any nonsense. DUt I'll do anything I can for you. (Vnything that's not calculated to make trouble. If anything occurs :o you, speak up. I'll try and think, :oo.—Will you shake hands?" Masson stood up and leered witii tome approach to dignity. "I’ll shake * lands with you when you come icross. I ain't goln’ to shake hands with no guy that says one thing and ioes another.” He went out. hitching ds trousers. IX. The man was ugly, ill tempered and rouble-loving, but he was also exces lively stupid and lazy. Deft alone le would probably have sulked, and :ontented himself with strong drink ind women until a ship came or until he natives, irritated beyond endur mce, quietly put him out of the way. t was the Tengulans who worked his uln. Either the Tengulans or Mas ion alone Kit could have dealt with; >ut the two together were too much or him. They gave him an exceed ngly uncomfortable fortnight. The Tengulans began it. A few lays after the coronation council they nade one of their senseless nocturnal ■aids on Naituvl. The casualties were light, as they were in all these en counters: a nninlaba burnt and two drgins abducted into captivity. Hut it made the Naltuvlans and even the Nairavang very angry, and Kit unite enough ao to satisfy both. He was hasty, perhaps; he decided without even holding a council. Mas son and all the other dangers that lurked at home were forgotten. He had promised, and he would fulfill. He lug up his file, scraped and swore his way through one of the Jron hasps and one of the padlock bars and en tered the arsenal. It was as he had expected: an eight-by-eight cellar piled with old Mauser rifles, pistols and copious ammunition. The for mer were in a woeful condition of rust, but there were also cleaning materials. After a few hours' work he had enough serviceable arms to equip a punitive expedition. The nr serial door Ire safeguarded as well as he could by piling against it corn! blocks too iurge for one man to lift alone. Eighteen of them sailed in a large outrigger canoe for Tenguiu. Six of the natives carried rifles and the two white men Lugers. Landing on Ten gulu was a somewhat difficult matter. There was* no harbor, and one hud to plunge through the surf on the lee side of the Island, whichever that was. and walk to one's destination. If the wind changed while one was there, one had either to wait for it to change again or transport the canoe overland to where the surf was negotiable. landing on the western shore they hud n walk of half a mile to the main village. Kit enjoyed the walk: the richness and variety of the vege tation was astonishing after the Hoarseness of Nairava, where only the cocoa palm and the pandanus arid some useless shrubs grew easily. On Tenguiu numberless trees and plants grew in the greatest profusion; there were springs and brooks of fresh water and a general atmosphere of tropic luxuriance. To make up for that, the air of the jungle hummed with flies and mosquitoes. ^ (To He Conttwaed Tomorrow.) THE NEBBS how’d you like to be the iceman? 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