d swept clean of its human excrescence, his
purposeless gaze had wandered instinctively toward the promise of the
forest-green hills in the distance.

He heard the familiar rush of feet toward the dining room and he was
vaguely conscious that some one had halted before his door. He turned
about. A young man, not over twenty-five, with a delicately chiseled
face, was stepping into the room. As he drew closer Fred received the
wistful impression of changing-blue eyes and a skin clear to the point
of transparency. Fred met his visitor halfway.

"You came last night, didn't you?" the youth began, offering a shy
hand. "I saw you this morning. I was in the crowd that looked you over
just before breakfast... What are you here for?"

Fred lifted his hand and let it fall again. "I made a mess of
things... And you?"

"Booze," the other replied, laconically. "I've been in three times...
Let's go down to lunch." He slipped a friendly arm into Fred's and
together they walked with the rushing throng into the dining room.

It was a small room, everything considered, with tables built around
the four walls and one large table in the center that seated about
twenty-five people. Starratt and his new-found friend discovered two
vacant seats upon the rude bench in front of the center table and sat
down. They were each given a plate upon which was a potato and a small
piece of cold beef and the inevitable hunk of dry bread. A large
pitcher of tea stood within reach. There was neither milk nor sugar
nor butter in evidence. A tablespoon and a tin cup were next handed
them. Fred felt a sudden nausea. He closed his eyes for a moment, and
when he looked up his plate had been swept clean of food.

"You've got to watch sharp," the youth was saying. "They steal
everything in sight if you let them... Here, have some of mine."

Fred made a gesture of refusal. "It doesn't matter," he explained.
"I'm not hungry."

"You'd better eat something... Have some hot tea!"

It was a black, hair-raising brew, but Fred managed to force down a
draught of it. About him on all sides men were tearing their meat with
clawlike hands, digging their fangs into it in wolfish ferocity... A
dishpan of rice was circulated. Fred took a few spoonfuls. Within
fifteen minutes the meal was over and the dishpan, emptied of its
rice, was passed again. Fred saw his companions flinging their spoons
into it. He did likewise.

The youth arose. "Let's get out of this and hav