“‘Godfrey mighty!’ I sings out.  ’I wouldn’t come nigh such a nest of crazy murderers as that fur no money!  I’d sooner ride in that automobile of yours, and St. Peter himself couldn’t coax me into that again, not if ‘twas fur a cruise plumb up the middle of the golden street!’

“I meant it, too, and the next afternoon when it come time to start for home he found out that I meant it.  We’d shot a lot of ducks, and Billings was havin’ such a good time that I had to coax and tease him as if he was a young one afore he’d think of quittin’.  It was quarter of six when he backed the gas cart out of the shed.  I was uneasy, ’cause ‘twas past low-water time, and there was fog comin’ on.

“‘Brace up, Dewey!’ says he.  ‘Get in.’

“‘No, Mr. Billings,’ says I.  ‘I ain’t goin’ to get in.  You take that craft of yourn home, and I’ll sail up alongside in my dory.’

“‘In your which?’ says he.

“‘In my dory,’ I says.  ’That’s her hauled up on the beach abreast the shanty.’

“He looked at the dory and then at me.

“‘Go on!’ says he.  ‘You ain’t goin’ to pack yourself twelve mile on that shingle?’

“’Sartin I am! says I.  ‘I ain’t takin’ no more chances.’

“Do you know, he actually seemed to think I was crazy then.  Seemed to figger that the dory wa’n’t big enough; and she’s carried five easy afore now.  We had an argument that lasted twenty minutes more, and the fog driftin’ in nigher all the time.  At last he got sick of arguin’, ripped out somethin’ brisk and personal, and got his tin shop to movin’.

“‘You want to cross over to the ocean side,’ I called after him.  ’The Cut-through’s been dredged at the bay end, remember.’

“‘Be hanged!’ he yells, or more emphatic.  And off he whizzed.  I see him go, and fetched a long breath.  Thanks to a merciful Providence, I’d come so fur without bein’ buttered on the undercrust of that automobile or scalped with its crazy shover’s bowie knife.

“Ten minutes later I was beatin’ out into the bay in my dory.  All around was the fog, thin as poorhouse gruel so fur, but thickenin’ every minute.  I was worried; not for myself, you understand, but for that cowboy shover.  I was afraid he wouldn’t fetch t’other side of the Cut-through.  There wa’n’t much wind, and I had to make long tacks.  I took the inshore channel, and kept listenin’ all the time.  And at last, when ‘twas pretty dark and I was cal’latin’ to be about abreast of the bay end of the Cut-through, I heard from somewheres ashore a dismal honkin’ kind of noise, same as a wild goose might make if ‘twas chokin’ to death and not resigned to the worst.

“‘My land!’ says I.  ‘It’s happened!’ And I come about and headed straight in for the beach.  I struck it just alongside the gov’ment shanty.  The engineers had knocked off work for the week, waitin’ for supplies, but they hadn’t took away their dunnage.