“It is rather spooky,” he admitted, “but I love it as a typical sound of the wilderness.  It is just redolent with memories of the scented smoke of camp-fires, of game-tracked swamps and big forests mirrored in deep, calm waters all aglow with the lights of the setting sun.”

This interested me.  It is evident that this doctor is not simply a fairly well educated dispenser of pills and a wielder of horrid instruments.  There is some tincture of sentiment in his make-up.

“How do you enjoy the practice of your profession in Sweetapple Cove?” I suddenly asked him, rather irrelevantly.

“I have an idea that it is a sort of practice for which I am fairly well fitted,” he answered, slowly, and still looking at the birds.  “A fellow can never be sure that he would make a success in the larger places.  Here you will admit that the critical sense of the population must be easily satisfied.  I have no reason to doubt that I am at least the half a loaf that is better than no bread.”

Of course I could only smile.  He had said a lot, very pleasantly, without giving me the slightest bit of information.  To-morrow I intend to go and have a chat with Mrs. Barnett and pump her dry.  I notice that I am rather a curious young person.

“Jist keep her off a bit now,” advised Sammy.  “They is a big tide settin’ in.”

A slight pressure on the tiller was enough, and Yves loosened the sheets just a little.  On our port side we could see the cliffs, dark and rather menacing, which as yet failed to show the slightest indenture within which a boat might lie.

“I think I will give you the tiller now,” I told Sammy.

“If you’ll not be minding,” he answered.

I am discovering that these people have an inborn sense of courtesy.  Their broad accent, which is a mixture of Scotch and Irish and other North British sounds, is rather a pleasant one.  It was quite evident that I was to suit myself in the matter of steering the boat.  If I objected to relinquishing the tiller owing to a preference for running up on the rocks I was entirely welcome, as far as I could judge from Sammy’s words.  I am beginning to love the old man.

He took the helm and I swung my arms against my sides, for my muscles felt just a little bit sore.

“I’d like to do this often,” I informed him.  “It is fine for one’s arms.”

“It’s sure fine fer the pretty face of yer,” he asserted, rather timidly.  “The color on it an’ the shinin’ in yer eyes is real good to see.”

“You are very complimentary,” I laughed.

Then the old man looked at me, quite soberly, and I could see that a misgiving had made its way in his dear old soul.

“I mistrust I doesn’t jist know what that means,” he said, rather worried.  “Ef it’s anythin’ bad I’m a-beggin’ yer pardon.”

“You are a perfect dear, Captain Sammy,” I told him.  “Indeed it means something very nice.”