promised only rainy days.  In these depressing reflections Billy was interrupted by the approach of the young man in the Panama hat.  Billy would have avoided him, but the young man and his two friends would not be denied.  For the service Billy had rendered them they wished to express their gratitude.  It found expression in the form of Planter’s punch.  As they consumed this Billy explained to the strangers why the customs men had detained them.

“You told them you were leaving to-night for Santo Domingo,” said Billy; “but they knew that was impossible, for there is no steamer down the coast for two weeks.”

The one whose features seemed familiar replied: 

“Still, we are leaving to-night,” he said; “not on a steamer, but on a war-ship.”

“A war-ship?” cried Billy.  His heart beat at high speed.  “Then,” he exclaimed, “you are a naval officer?”

The young man shook his head and, as though challenging Billy to make another guess, smiled.

“Then,” Billy complied eagerly, “you are a diplomat!  Are you our new minister?”

One of the other young men exclaimed reproachfully: 

“You know him perfectly well!” he protested.  “You’ve seen his picture thousands of times.”

With awe and pride he placed his hand on Billy’s arm and with the other pointed at the one in the Panama hat.

“It’s Harry St. Clair,” he announced.  “Harry St. Clair, the King of the Movies!”

“The King of the Movies,” repeated Billy.  His disappointment was so keen as to be embarrassing.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, “I thought you—­” Then he remembered his manners.  “Glad to meet you,” he said.  “Seen you on the screen.”

Again his own troubles took precedence.  “Did you say,” he demanded, “one of our war-ships is coming here to-day?”

“Coming to take me to Santo Domingo,” explained Mr. St. Clair.  He spoke airily, as though to him as a means of locomotion battle-ships were as trolley-cars.  The Planter’s punch, which was something he had never before encountered, encouraged the great young man to unbend.  He explained further and fully, and Billy, his mind intent upon his own affair, pretended to listen.

The United States Government, Mr. St. Clair explained, was assisting him and the Apollo Film Company in producing the eight-reel film entitled “The Man Behind the Gun.”

With it the Navy Department plotted to advertise the navy and encourage recruiting.  In moving pictures, in the form of a story, with love interest, villain, comic relief, and thrills, it would show the life of American bluejackets afloat and ashore, at home and abroad.  They would be seen at Yokohama playing baseball with Tokio University; in the courtyard of the Vatican receiving the blessing of the Pope; at Waikiki riding the breakers on a scrubbing-board; in the Philippines eating cocoanuts in the shade of the sheltering palm, and in Brooklyn in the Y.M.C.A. club, in the shadow of the New York sky-scrapers, playing billiards and reading the sporting extras.