should take a swim
over at one of the emporiums at City Island, and, as I interposed no
objections, I accordingly departed with my faithful Mr. Fogerty
tumbling along at my heels. Since Mr. Fogerty involved me in trouble
the other day by barking at the Jimmy-legs he has endeavored in all
possible ways to make up for his thoughtless irregularity. For
instance, he met me this morning with an almost brand new shoe which
in some manner he had managed to pick up in his wanderings. It fits
perfectly, and if he only succeeds in finding the mate to it I shall
probably not look for the owner. As a further proof of his good will
Mr. Fogerty bit, or attempted to bite, a P.O. who spoke to me
roughly regarding the picturesque way I was holding my gun.

"Whose dog is that?" demanded the P.O.

Silence in the ranks. Mr. Fogerty looked defiantly at him for a moment
and then trotted deliberately over and sat down upon my foot.

"Oh, so he belongs to you!" continued the P.O. in a threatening voice.

"No, sir," I faltered; "you see, it isn't that way at all. I belong to
Mr. Fogerty."

"Who in--who in--who is Mr. Fogerty?" shouted the P.O. "And how
in--how in--how did _he_ happen to get into the conversation?"

"Why, this is Mr. Fogerty," I replied; "this dog here, sitting on my
foot."

"Oh, is that so?" jeered the P.O., a man noted for his quick retorts.
"Well, you take your silly looking dog away from here and secure him
in some safe place. He ain't no fit associate for our camp dogs. And,
furthermore," he added, "the next time Mr. Fogerty attempts to bite me
I'm going to put you on report--savez?"

Mr. Fogerty is almost as much of a comfort in camp as mother.

Well, that's another something else again and has nothing to do with
my swim and approximate drowning at City Island. Swimming has always
been one of my strong points, and I have taken in the past no little
pride in my appearance, not only in a bathing outfit, but also in the
water. However, the suit they provided me with on this occasion did
not show me up in a very alluring light. It was quite large and
evidently built according to a model of the early Victorian Era. I was
swathed in yards of cloth much in the same manner as is a very young
child. It delighted Mr. Fogerty, who expressed his admiration by
attaching himself to the lower half of my attire and remaining there
until I had waded through several colonies of barnacles far out into
the bay. Bidding farewell to