urst open the doors
of the tavern, and poured through the entrance to a court-yard, where
they laid the boat upon a long table under a shed, and thought they
had earned "drinks." This was the spontaneous way in which the
Chincoteague people welcomed me. "If you don't drink, stranger, up
your way, what on airth keeps your buddies and soulds together?"
queried a tall oysterman. A lady had kindly presented me with a peck
of fine apples that very morning; so, in lieu of "drinks," I
distributed the fruit among them. They joked and questioned me, and
all were merry save one bilious-looking individual, not dressed, like
the others, in an oysterman's garb, but wearing, to use a term of the
place, "store clothes."

After the crowd had settled in the bar-room, at cards, &c., this
doubting Thomas remained beside the boat, carefully examining her. Soon
he was scraping her hull below the gunwale, where the muddy water of the
bay had left a thin coat of sediment which was now dry. The man's
countenance lighted up as he pulled the bartender aside and said, "Look
ahere; didn't I tell you that boat looked as if she was made to carry on
a deck of a vessel, and to be a-shoved off into the water at night jest
abreast of a town to make fools of folks, and git them to believe that
that fellow had a-rowed _all_ the way ahere? Now see, here is _dust, dry
dust_, on her hull. She ahain't ben in the water mor'n ten minutes, I
sware." It required but a moment's investigation of my Chincoteague
audience to discover that the dust was mud from the tide, and the
doubter brought down the ridicule of his more discriminating neighbors
upon him, and slunk away amid their jeers.

Of all this community of watermen but one could be found that night who
had threaded the interior watercourses as far as Cape Charles, and he
was the youngest of the lot. Taking out my note-book, I jotted down his
amusing directions. "Look out for Cat Creek below Four Mouths," he said;
"you'll catch it round there." "Yes," broke in several voices, "Cat
Creek's an awful place unless you run through on a full ebb-tide. Oyster
boats always has a time a-shoving through Cat Creek," &c.

After the council with my Chincoteague friends had ended, the route to
be travelled the next day was in my mental vision "as clear as mud." The
inhabitants of this island are not all oystermen, for many find
occupation and profit in raising ponies upon the beach of Assateague,
where the wild, coarse