lared, hastily. "Indeed, no."

"But you spoke of your business experience with Cap'n Jeth; or I thought
you did."

The little archaeologist looked very solemn.

"Such experiences as I have had with Captain Hallett," he observed,
"have been--ah--most unbusinesslike."

They parted a few minutes later. Said Nelson, gloomily:

"I'm afraid the situation hasn't changed a whole lot, after all, Mr.
Bangs. Cap'n Jeth may think more of my new job than he did of my old
one, but he doesn't think any better of me as a son-in-law. And he
won't, so long as he believes in that fool spirit stuff."

Galusha stroked his chin. "We must consider those spirits, Mr. Howard,"
he said. "Dear me, yes; we must seriously consider those spirits."

CHAPTER XVI

August is the banner month at all northern seaside resorts. August at
East Wellmouth crowded the Restabit Inn to overflowing. On pleasant
Sundays the long line of cars flying through the main road of the
village on the way to Provincetown met and passed the long line
returning Bostonward. The sound of motor horns echoed along the lane
leading to Gould's Bluffs. Galusha found it distinctly safer and less
nerve-racking to walk on the grass bordering that lane than in the lane
itself, as had hitherto been his custom. The harassed Zacheus led more
visitors than ever up and down the lighthouse stairs, expressing his
opinion of those visitors, after their departure, with fluency and
freedom. Mr. Bloomer's philosophy helped him through most annoyances but
it broke down under the weight of the summer boarder and his--or--her
questions.

Galusha, in his daily walks, kept far afield, avoiding the traveled
ways. His old resort, the Baptist cemetery, he seldom visited now,
having examined and re-examined all the interesting stones within its
borders. He had discovered another ancient burial ground, over on the
South Wellmouth road, and occasionally his wanderings took him as far as
that. The path to and from this cemetery led over the edge of the bluff
and wound down to the beach by the creek and landlocked harbor where his
hat--the brown derby--had put to sea that Sunday morning in the previous
October. The path skirted the creek for a little way, then crossed on a
small bridge and climbed the pine-clad hills on the other side.

Late one afternoon in August, Galusha, returning along this path, met
a man coming in the other direction. The man was a stranger to him
and obviously not a re