The swimmer scowled with a futile effort at recollection.
“Bill—Bill Roberts,” Billy supplemented.
“Oh, ho!—Not BIG Bill Roberts? Why, I saw you fight, before the earthquake, in the Mechanic's Pavilion. It was a preliminary to Eddie Hanlon and some other fellow. You're a two-handed fighter, I remember that, with an awful wallop, but slow. Yes, I remember, you were slow that night, but you got your man.” He put out a wet hand. “My name's Hazard—Jim Hazard.”
“An' if you're the football coach that was, a couple of years ago, I've read about you in the papers. Am I right?”
They shook hands heartily, and Saxon was introduced. She felt very small beside the two young giants, and very proud, withal, that she belonged to the race that gave them birth. She could only listen to them talk.
“I'd like to put on the gloves with you every day for half an hour,” Hazard said. “You could teach me a lot. Are you going to stay around here?”
“No. We're goin' on down the coast, lookin' for land. Just the same, I could teach you a few, and there's one thing you could teach me—surf swimmin'.”
“I'll swap lessons with you any time,” Hazard offered. He turned to Saxon. “Why don't you stop in Carmel for a while? It isn't so bad.”
“It's beautiful,” she acknowledged, with a grateful smile, “but—” She turned and pointed to their packs on the edge of the lupine. “We're on the tramp, and lookin' for government land.”
“If you're looking down past the Sur for it, it will keep,” he laughed. “Well, I've got to run along and get some clothes on. If you come back this way, look me up. Anybody will tell you where I live. So long.”