k on the shelf, and well teach you the
recipes. That leaves Whittington for general-utility man. He'll be our
hewer of wood and drawer of water, to say nothing of washing the dishes.
We'll all feel free to call on him whenever any of us gets into a tight
place. How does that hit you, Whittington?"

"Never touched me! I'm no servant."

"What will you do, then?" inquired Jim, pointedly.

"Just what I please, and not a thing besides," replied Percy, with equal
directness.

The others exchanged looks, but Jim said no more.

The greater part of the afternoon was devoted to setting the
lobster-traps. They were loaded on the sloop, dory, and pea-pod, taken
out, and dropped overboard around the island, brown bottles, of which
there was a generous supply in the shed, being fastened to the warps for
"toggles," to hold them off the bottom, so that they might not catch on
the rocks. By five all the traps were set.

"You and Throppy can pull these to-morrow morning, Budge," said Jim, and
he gave them brief directions. "I'll make a trip with you myself the
next day. But to-morrow Whittington and I are going to see what we can
get on the trawl."

After an early supper they climbed the eastern point. The sheep, which
were feeding on its top, scampered off at their approach, their retreat
covered by the ram, with shaking head. Nemo rushed, barking, after the
flock, only to be butted ignominiously head over heels and to retreat,
yelping, to the beach.

"Bully for Aries!" laughed Throppy.

"Who's Aries?" asked Percy.

"The ram, of course! Where's your Latin?"

"Never heard the word. Where do these sheep drink, anyway? Out of the
spring?"

"No," replied Jim. "The dew on the grass gives them all the moisture
they need."

Sandpeeps were teetering along the ledges below. Two seals bobbed their
round, black heads in the surf at the promontory's foot. A mile to the
south rose the spout of a whale.

"Many craft go by here?" inquired Budge.

"Plenty. Fishing-schooners, tugs with their tows, yachts, tramp
steamers, sailing-vessels from the Bay of Fundy for Boston, and every
little while a smack or power-boat. The ocean liners to Portland pass
about fifteen miles south. So we oughtn't to be lonesome."

On the highest part of the point Throppy found a dead spruce about
twenty feet tall, which he picked as a mast for his wireless. Its top
would be at least sixty feet above the cabin, so he could talk over
twenty-five miles. He h