ttle he decided
at once that it was much too small for the purpose required of it. To
boil a lobster of that size in a kettle of that size would necessitate
boiling one end at a time, and that, both for the victim and himself,
would be troublesome and agonizing. He hunted about for a larger kettle
and, finding none, seized in desperation upon the wash boiler, filled
it, and lifted it to the top of the stove above the flickering new fire.

The fire burned slowly, and he sat down to rest and wait. As he sank
into the chair--not that across which the netted lobster was balanced,
but another--he became aware of curious sounds from without. Distant
sounds they were, far off and faint, but growing steadily louder; wails
and long-drawn howls, mournful and despairing.

"A-a-oo-ow! Aa-ow-ooo!"

"What in the world?" muttered Brown, and ran out of the kitchen and
around the corner of the house.

There was nothing in sight, nothing strange or unusual, that is. Joshua,
Seth's old horse, picketted to a post in the back yard and grazing, or
trying to graze, on the stubby beach grass, was the only living exhibit.
But the sounds continued and grew louder.

"Aa-ow-ooo! Ow-oo-ow-ooo!"

Over the rise of a dune, a hundred yards off, where the road to Eastboro
village dipped towards a swampy hollow, appeared a horse's head and
the top of a covered wagon. A moment later the driver became visible,
a freckled faced boy grinning like a pumpkin lantern. The horse trotted
through the sand up to the lights. Joshua whinnied as if he enjoyed the
prospect of company. From the back of the wagon, somewhere beneath the
shade of the cover, arose a heartrending wail, reeking of sorrow and
agony.

"Aa-ow-OOO! Ooo-aa-OW!"

"For heaven's sake," exclaimed the lightkeeper's helper, running to meet
the vehicle, "what is the matter?"

The boy grinned more expansively than ever. "Whoa!" he shouted, to the
horse he was driving. The animal stopped in his tracks, evidently glad
of the opportunity. Another howl burst from the covered depths of the
wagon.

"I've got him," said the boy, with a triumphant nod and a jerk of his
thumb over his shoulder. "He's in there."

"He? Who? What?"

"Job. He's in there. Hear him? He's been goin' on like that ever since
he finished his bone, and that was over two mile back. Say," admiringly,
"he's some singer, ain't he! Hear that, will ye?"

Another wail arose from the wagon. Brown hastened to the rear of the
vehicle