I sure wish I had you on the ranch, Grace,' says he. 'Why don't you
come West some day? That's where a hero like you would show up strong.'

"'Godfrey mighty!' I sings out. 'I wouldn't come nigh such a nest of
crazy murderers as that fur no money! I'd sooner ride in that automobile
of yours, and St. Peter himself couldn't coax me into THAT again, not if
'twas fur a cruise plumb up the middle of the golden street!'

"I meant it, too, and the next afternoon when it come time to start
for home he found out that I meant it. We'd shot a lot of ducks, and
Billings was havin' such a good time that I had to coax and tease him
as if he was a young one afore he'd think of quittin'. It was quarter
of six when he backed the gas cart out of the shed. I was uneasy, 'cause
'twas past low-water time, and there was fog comin' on.

"'Brace up, Dewey!' says he. 'Get in.'

"'No, Mr. Billings,' says I. 'I ain't goin' to get in. You take that
craft of yourn home, and I'll sail up alongside in my dory.'

"'In your which?' says he.

"'In my dory,' I says. 'That's her hauled up on the beach abreast the
shanty.'

"He looked at the dory and then at me.

"'Go on!' says he. 'You ain't goin' to pack yourself twelve mile on THAT
SHINGLE?'

"'Sartin I am! says I. 'I ain't takin' no more chances.'

"Do you know, he actually seemed to think I was crazy then. Seemed to
figger that the dory wa'n't big enough; and she's carried five easy
afore now. We had an argument that lasted twenty minutes more, and the
fog driftin' in nigher all the time. At last he got sick of arguin',
ripped out somethin' brisk and personal, and got his tin shop to movin'.

"'You want to cross over to the ocean side,' I called after him. 'The
Cut-through's been dredged at the bay end, remember.'

"'Be hanged!' he yells, or more emphatic. And off he whizzed. I see him
go, and fetched a long breath. Thanks to a merciful Providence, I'd come
so fur without bein' buttered on the undercrust of that automobile or
scalped with its crazy shover's bowie knife.

"Ten minutes later I was beatin' out into the bay in my dory. All
around was the fog, thin as poorhouse gruel so fur, but thickenin' every
minute. I was worried; not for myself, you understand, but for that
cowboy shover. I was afraid he wouldn't fetch t'other side of the
Cut-through. There wa'n't much wind, and I had to make long tacks. I
took the inshore channel, and kept listenin' all the time. And at last,
when 'twa