“Oh, I was just rememberin’ how he looked out for number one the first—­no, the second time I met him.  I don’t believe he’s forgot it.  Maybe that’s why he ain’t quite so high and mighty to me as he is to the rest of you fellers.  Ha! ha!  He tried to patronize me when I first came back here and took this depot and I just smiled and asked him what the market price of johnny-cake was these days.  He got red clear up to the brim of his tall hat.  Humph!  ’Twas funny.”

“The market price of johnny-cake!  He must have thought you was loony.”

“No.  I’m the last man he’d think was loony.  You see I met him a fore he came here to live at all.”

“You did?  Where?”

“Oh, over to Wellmouth.  ’Twas the year afore I come back to East Harniss, myself, after my long stretch away from it.  I never intended to see the Cape again, but I couldn’t stay away somehow.  I’ve told you that much—­how I went over to Wellmouth and boarded a spell, got sick of that, and, just to be doin’ somethin’ and not for the money, bought a catboat and took out sailin’ parties from Wixon and Wingate’s summer hotel.”

“And you met Mr. Williams?  Well, I snum!  Was he at the hotel?”

“No, not exactly.  I met him sort of casual this second time.”

“Second time?  Had you met him afore that?”

“Don’t get ahead of the yarn, Sim.  It happened this way:  You see, I was comin’ along the road between East Wellmouth and the Center when I run afoul of him.  He was fat and shiny, and drivin’ a skittish horse hitched to a fancy buggy.  When he sighted me he hove to and hailed.

“‘Here you!’ says he, in a voice as fat as the rest of him.  ’Your name’s Berry, ain’t it.’

“‘Yup,’ says I.

“‘Methusalum Berry or Jehoshaphat Berry or Sheba Berry, or somethin’ like that?  Hey?’ he says.

“‘Well,’ says I, ’the last shot you fired comes nighest the bull’s eye.  They christened me Solomon, but ’twa’n’t my fault; I was young at the time and they took advantage.’

“He grinned a kind of lopsided grin, like he had a lemon in his mouth, and commenced to cuss the horse for tryin’ to climb a pine tree.

“’I knew ‘twas some Bible outrage or other,’ he says.  ’There’s more Bible names in this forsaken sand heap than there is Christians, a good sight.  When I meet a man with a Bible name and chin whiskers I hang on to my watch.  The feller that sets out to do me has got to have a better make up than that, you bet your life.  ’Well, see here, King Sol; can you run a gasoline launch?’

“’Why, yes, I guess I can run ‘most any of the everyday kinds,’ says I, pullin’ thoughtful at my own chin whiskers.  This fat man had got me interested.  He was so polite and folksy in his remarks.  Didn’t seem to stand on no ceremony, as you might say.  Likewise there was a kind of familiar somethin’ about his face.  I knew mighty well I’d never met him afore, and yet I seemed to have a floatin’ memory of him, same as a chap remembers the taste of the senna and salts his ma made him take when he was little.