“‘Oh, oh, heavens!’ he chatters.  ‘What will we do?  Will we drown?’

“‘Don’t know,’ says I, tuggin’ at the wheel and tryin’ to sight the compass.  ’You’ve got the best chance of the two of us, if it’s true that fat floats.’

“I thought that might cheer him up some, but it didn’t.  A big wave heeled us over then and a keg or two of salt water poured over the gunwale.  He give a yell and jumped up.

“‘My Lord!’ he screams.  ‘We’re sinkin’.  Help! help!’

“‘Set down!’ I roared.  ’Thought you knew how to act in a boat.  Set down! d’you hear me?  Set down and set still!’

“He set.  Likewise he shivered and groaned.  It got darker all the time and the wind freshened every minute.  I expected to see that jury mast go by the board at any time.  Lucky for us it held.

“No use tellin’ about the next couple of hours.  ‘Cordin’ to my reckonin’ they was years and we’d ought to have sailed plumb through the broadside of the Cape, and be makin’ a quick run for Africy.  But at last we got into smoother water, and then, right acrost our bows, showed up a white strip.  The fog had pretty well blowed clear and I could see it.

“‘Land, ho!’ I yells.  ‘Stand by!  We’re goin’ to bump.’”

Captain Sol stopped short and listened.  Mr. Phinney grasped his arm.

“For the dear land sakes, Sol,” he exclaimed, “don’t leave me hangin’ in them breakers no longer’n you can help!  Heave ahead!  Did you bump?”

The depot master chuckled.

“Did we?” he repeated.  “Well, I’ll tell you that by and by.  Here comes the train and I better take charge of the ship.  Anything so responsible as seein’ the cars come in without me to help would give Issy the jumpin’ heart disease.”

He sprang from the truck and hastened toward the door of the station.  Phinney, rising to follow him, saw, over the dark green of the swamp cedars at the head of the track, an advancing column of smoke.  A whistle sounded.  The train was coming in.

CHAPTER II

SUPPLY AND DEMAND

And now life in East Harniss became temporarily fevered.  Issy McKay dashed out of the station and rushed importantly up and down the platform.  Ed Crocker and Cornelius Rowe emerged and draped themselves in statuesque attitudes against the side of the building.  Obed Gott came hurrying from his paint and oil shop, which was next to the “general store.”  Mr. Higgins, proprietor of the latter, sauntered easily across to receive, in his official capacity as postmaster, the mail bag.  Ten or more citizens, of both sexes, and of various ages, gathered in groups to inspect and supervise.

The locomotive pulled its string of cars, a “baggage,” a “smoker,” and two “passengers,” alongside the platform.  The sliding door of the baggage car was pushed back and the baggage master appeared in the opening.  “Hi!  Cap’n!” he shouted.  “Hi, Cap’n Sol!  Here’s some express for you.”