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unbalanced ration。 It certainly unbalanced our digestions。 We got so
that whenever hunger took an extra bite at us； we took another drink of gin。
After a couple of weeks of it； Olaf； a squarehead sailor； got an idea。 It
came when he was full of gin； and we； being in the same fix； just watched
him shove a cap and short fuse into a stick of dynamite and stroll down
toward the boat。
〃It dawned on me that he was going to shoot fish if there were any
about； but the sun was beastly hot； and I just reclined there and hoped he'd
have luck。
〃About half an hour after he disappeared we heard the explosion。 But
he didn't come back。 We waited till the cool of sunset； and down on the
beach found what had become of him。 The boat was there all right；
grounded by the prevailing breeze； but there was no Olaf。 He would
never have to eat coconut again。 We went back； shakier than ever； and
cracked another square…face。
〃The next day the cook announced that he would rather take his
chance with dynamite than continue trying to exist on coconut； and that；
though he didn't know anything about dynamite； he knew a sight too much
about coconut。 So we bit the detonator down for him； shoved in a fuse；
and picked him a good fire…stick； while he jolted up with a couple more
stiff ones of gin。
〃It was the same programme as the day before。 After a while we
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heard the explosion and at twilight went down to the boat； from which we
scraped enough of the cook for a funeral。
〃The carpenter and I stuck it out two days more； then we drew straws
for it and it was his turn。 We parted with harsh words； for he wanted to
take a square…face along to refresh himself by the way； while I was set
against running any chance of wasting the gin。 Besides； he had more than
he could carry then； and he wobbled and staggered as he walked。
〃Same thing； only there was a whole lot of him left for me to bury；
because he'd prepared only half a stick。 I managed to last it out till next
day； when； after duly fortifying myself； I got sufficient courage to tackle
the dynamite。 I used only a third of a stick … you know； short fuse； with
the end split so as to hold the head of a safety match。 That's where I
mended my predecessors' methods。 Not using the match…head； they'd too…
long fuses。 Therefore； when they spotted a school of mullet； and lighted
the fuse； they had to hold the dynamite till the fuse burned short before
they threw it。 If they threw it too soon； it wouldn't go off the instant it hit
the water； while the splash of it would frighten the mullet away。 Funny
stuff dynamite。 At any rate； I still maintain mine was the safer method。
〃I picked up a school of mullet before I'd been rowing five minutes。
Fine big fat ones they were； and I could smell them over the fire。 When I
stood up； fire…stick in one hand； dynamite stick in the other； my knees
were knocking together。 Maybe it was the gin； or the anxiousness； or the
weakness and the hunger； and maybe it was the result of all of them； but at
any rate I was all of a shake。 Twice I failed to touch the fire…stick to the
dynamite。 Then I did； heard the match…head splutter； and let her go。
〃Now I don't know what happened to the others； but I know what I did。
I got turned about。 Did you ever stem a strawberry and throw the
strawberry away and pop the stem into your mouth？ That's what I did。
I threw the fire…stick into the water after the mullet and held on to the
dynamite。 And my arm went off with the stick when it went off。 。 。 。 〃
Slim investigated the tomato…can for water to mix himself a drink； but
found it empty。 He stood up。
〃Heigh ho；〃 he yawned； and started down the path to the river。
In several minutes he was back。 He mixed the due quantity of river
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slush with the alcohol； took a long； solitary drink； and stared with bitter
moodiness into the fire。
〃Yes； but 。 。 。 〃 Fatty suggested。 〃What happened then？〃
〃Oh；〃 sad Slim。 〃Then the princess married me； of course。〃
〃But you were the only person left； and there wasn't any princess 。 。 。 〃
Whiskers cried out abruptly； and then let his voice trail away to
embarrassed silence。
Slim stared unblinkingly into the fire。
Percival Delaney and Chauncey Delarouse looked at each other。
Quietly； in solemn silence； each with his one arm aided the one arm of the
other in rolling and tying his bundle。 And in silence； bundles slung on
shoulders； they went away out of the circle of firelight。 Not until they
reached the top of the railroad embankment did they speak。
〃No gentleman would have done it；〃 said Whiskers。
〃No gentleman would have done it；〃 Fatty agreed。
Glen Ellen； California； SEPTEMBER 26； 1916。
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