"We never met another craft the whole night through. Yes, we did meet one. Old Ezra Cahoon, of Harniss, was out in his dory stealin' quahaugs from Seth Andrews's bed over nigh the Wapatomac shore. Ezra stayed long enough to get one good glimpse of us as we bust through the fog; then he cut his rodin' and laid to his oars, bound for home and mother. We could hear him screech for half an hour after he left us.
"Ez told next day that the devil had come ridin' acrost the bay after him in a chariot of fire. Said he could smell the brimstone and hear the trumpet callin' him to judgment. Likewise he hove in a lot of particulars concernin' the personal appearance of the Old Boy himself, who, he said, was standin' up wavin' a red-hot pitchfork. Some folks might have been flattered at bein' took for such a famous character; but I wa'n't; I'm retirin' by nature, and besides, Ez's description wa'n't cal'lated to bust a body's vanity b'iler. I was prouder of the consequences, the same bein' that Ezra signed the Good Templars' pledge that afternoon, and kept it for three whole months, just sixty-nine days longer than any previous attack within the memory of man had lasted.
"And finally, just as mornin' was breakin', the bows of the floats slid easy and slick up on a hard, sandy beach. Then the sun riz and the fog lifted, and there we was within sight of the South Ostable meetin'-house. We'd sailed eighteen miles in that ark and made a better landin' blindfold than we ever could have made on purpose.
"I hauled down the sail, unshipped the mast, and jumped ashore to find a rock big enough to use for a makeshift anchor. It wa'n't more'n three minutes after we fust struck afore my boots hit dry ground, but Billings beat me one hundred and seventy seconds, at that. When I had time to look at that shover man he was a cable's length from high-tide mark, settin' down and grippin' a bunch of beach grass as if he was afeard the sand was goin' to slide from under him; and you never seen a yallerer, more upset critter in your born days.
"Well, I got the ark anchored, after a fashion, and then we walked up to the South Ostable tavern. Peleg Small, who runs the place, he knows me, so he let me have a room and I turned in for a nap. I slept about three hours. When I woke up I started out to hunt the automobile and Billings. Both of 'em looked consider'ble better than they had when I see 'em last. The shover had got a gang of men and they'd got the gas cart ashore, and Billings and a blacksmith was workin' over--or rather under--the clockwork.
"'Hello!' I hails, comin' alongside.
"Billings sticks his head out from under the tinware.
"'Hi, pard!' says he. I noticed he hadn't called me 'Grace' nor 'Dewey' for a long spell. Hi, pard,' he says, gettin' to his feet, 'the old gal ain't hurt a hair. She'll be good as ever in a couple of hours. Then you and me can start for Orham.'
"'In HER?' says I.
"'Sure,' he says.
"'Not by a jugful!' says I, emphatic. 'I'll borrer a boat to get to Orham in, when I'm ready to go. You won't ketch me in that man killer again; and you can call me a coward all you want to!'
"'A coward?' says he. 'You a coward? And-- Why, you was in that car all night!'
"'Oh!' I says. 'Last night was diff'rent. The thing was on water then, and when I've got enough water underneath me I know I'm safe.'
"'Safe!' he sings out. 'SAFE! Well, by--gosh! Pard, I hate to say it, but it's the Lord's truth--you had me doin' my "Now I lay me's"!'
"For a minute we looked at each other. Then says I, sort of thinkin' out loud, 'I cal'late,' I says, 'that whether a man's brave or not depends consider'ble on whether he's used to his latitude. It's all accordin'. It lays in the bringin' up, as the duck said when the hen tried to swim.'
"He nodded solemn. 'Pard,' says he, 'I sure reckon you've called the turn. Let's shake hands on it.'
"So we shook; and . . ."
Captain Bailey stopped short and sprang from his chair. "There's my train comin'," he shouted. "Good-by, Sol! So long, Barzilla!
Keep away from fortune tellers and pretty servant girls or YOU'LL be gettin' married pretty soon. Good-by."
He darted out of the waiting room and his companions followed. Mr. Wingate, having a few final calls to make, left the station soon afterwards and did not return until evening. And that evening he heard news which surprised him.
As he and Captain Sol were exchanging a last handshake on the platform, Barzilla said:
"Well, Sol, I've enjoyed loafin' around here and yarnin' with you, same as I always do. I'll be over again in a month or so and we'll have some more."
The Captain shook his head. "I may not be here then, Barzilla," he observed.
"May not be here? What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that I don't know exactly where I shall be. I shan't be depot master, anyway."
"Shan't be depot master? YOU won't? Why, what on airth--"
"I sent in my resignation four days ago. Nobody knows it, except you, not even Issy, but the new depot master for East Harniss will be here to take my place on the mornin' of the twelfth, that's two days off."
"Why! Why! SOL!"
"Yes. Keep mum about it. I'll--I'll let you know what I decide to do. I ain't settled it myself yet. Good-by, Barzilla."
