, surprisingly near and bright. Except for
that, however, there was no sign of anything except darkness and waves.

"Look here, my man," I said. "I haven't stolen your lobsters; but--"

"I know better. I don't know who you be, but I'd know you was a thief if
I run acrost you in prayer-meetin'. Just to look at you is enough."

I heard a hysterical giggle from the bench beside me. Evidently the
person with the club heard it, too, for he leaned forward to look.

"So there's two of ye, eh!" he said. "Well, by godfreys, I don't care if
there's a million! You'll pay for them lobsters or go to the lock-up."

I laughed aloud. "Very well," I said. "I am agreeable."

"You're agreeable! What do you mean by that? This ain't no laughin'
matter, I'll tell you that."

I laughed again. "I don't care what you tell me," I observed. "And if
you will take us somewhere ashore--to the lock-up or anywhere else--I
shall be much obliged."

The occupant of the dory seemed to be puzzled. He leaned forward once
more.

"What sort of talk is that?" he demanded. "Where's my lobsters? . . .
Hey! What? I swan to man, I believe one of ye's a woman! Have the
females turned thieves, too?"

"I don't know. See here, my friend, my name is Paine, and I'm the only
lobster aboard this craft. This lady and I belong in Denboro. My launch
has run out of gasolene and we have been drifting about the bay since
five o'clock. Now, for heaven's sake, don't talk any more, but take us
to the lock-up and be quick about it."

The unknown paid no attention to my entreaty. Instead he leaned still
further over the Comfort's rail. The dory careened until I expected to
see her capsize.

"I swan to man!" he muttered. "I swan to man! 'Tain't possible I'm
mistook!"

"It scarcely seems possible, I admit. But I'm afraid it is true."

I heard the club fall with a clatter.

"My--godfreys! Do you mean to say--? From Denboro? Out of gasolene!
Why--why, you've got sail up!"

"Nothing but a tarpaulin on an oar."

"And you've been cruisin' all night? Through the fog--the squall--and
all?"

"Yes," wearily, "yes--yes--yes."

"But--but ain't you drownded?"

"Not quite. If you don't let go of that rail we shall be soon."

"Driftin' all night! Ain't you wet through?"

"Yes. Might I suggest that we postpone the rest of the catechism until
we reach--the lock-up?"

This suggestion apparently was accepted. Our captor suddenly became very
much alive.

"Give me a line,"