ow
up so innocent and simple, and yet have the stuff in him Uncle Jimmy
must have had. So I tows him back to 42d-st., points him towards the new
lib'ry again, and turns him loose; him in his old blue suit and faded
cap, with Cap'n Bill's antique dive chart and certified check for fifty
thousand in his inside pocket.

I thought he might show up at the studio in a day or so, to submit some
get-rich-quick fake to me. But he didn't. A couple of weeks goes by.
Still no Uncle Jimmy. I was beginnin' to look for accounts in the papers
of how an old jay from the coast of Maine had been bunkoed and gone to
the police with his tale of woe; but nothin' of the kind appears. They
don't always squeal, you know. Maybe he was that kind.

Then here the other day in that big storm we had, as I'm standin' in the
doorway hesitatin' about dodgin' out into them slantwise sheets of rain,
who should come paddlin' along, his coat collar turned up and his cap
pulled down, but Uncle Jimmy Isham.

"Well, well!" says I, makin' room for him in the hallway. "Still here,
eh? Gettin' to be a reg'lar Broadway rounder, I expect?"

"No," says he, shakin' the water off of him like a terrier, "I--I can't
seem to get used to bein' a city man. Fact is, McCabe, I guess I begun
too late. I don't like it at all."

"Homesick for Pemaquid?" says I.

"That's it," says he. "I stove it off until this mornin'. I'd been doin'
fust rate too, goin' to picture shows reg'lar, takin' in the sights, and
tryin' to make myself believe I was enjoyin' all the luxuries and
refinements of life, like Cap'n Bill said I ought to. But when I woke up
at daylight and heard this nor'easter snortin' through the streets I
couldn't stand it a mite longer. I dun'no's I can make it plain to you,
but--well, this ain't no place to be in a storm. Never saw the surf pile
up on Pemaquid Point, did you? Then you ought to once. And I bet it's
rollin' in some there now. Yes, Sir! The old graybacks are jest
thunderin' in on them rocks with a roar you can hear three miles back in
the woods. Roarin' and smashin', they are, grand and mighty and awful.
And I want to be there to see and hear. I got to, that's all. What's
shows and museums and ridin' in the subway, compared to a storm on
Pemaquid? No, Sir, I can't stand it any longer. I'm goin' back on the
Boston boat to-night, and before it's calmed down at the point I'll be
there. I'm goin' to stay there too; that is, if I don't move over to the
Nec