Timoteo shivered at the remembered temptation.
He sang again for very joy at having been helped to forgive his
enemy.
In the pines Timoteo stopped, and looked upward through the swaying
treetops.
"A Dios sea gloria por Jesu-Christo," he murmured reverently. ("To
God be glory through Jesus Christ.")
THE VICTORY OF QUANG PO
Jo bent down and slipped under the barbed wire fence that separated
the field back of the Chinese fishing-village from the other fields
that stretched away to the houses of the California seaside resort
under the pines. The wind blew pleasantly in from the sparkling bay.
A large number of frames for drying fish stretched away to the back
part of the Chinese field. A great net fifty feet long was spread
out on the ground to dry. Jo looked at the wooden sinkers that were
fastened along one side of the net and smiled. "They're all on
again," he thought.
A line of flounders stretched above the narrow, crooked street of
the fishing-village. The flounders looked like queer clothes hung to
dry on a clothes-line. There were crates of small fish, packed so
that they stood on their heads. Underneath a table of drying fish
lay a dead gopher.
Red placards spotted the houses. On the roof of one hut a little
paper windmill was turning in the breeze. Back of one hut was a bit
of garden inclosed with a fence of branches and containing much
mustard.
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