very flight of stairs I came to, until I gets to a comfy little coop
on the very top where a long guy wearin' white suspenders over a blue
flannel shirt is jugglin' the steerin' wheel.

"Hello, Cap!" says I. "How's she headin'?"

He ain't one of the sociable kind, though. You'd most thought, from
the reprovin' stare he gives me, that he didn't appreciate good comp'ny.

"Can't you read?" says he.

"Ah, you mean the Keep-Out sign? Sure, Pete," says I; "but I can't see
it from in here."

"Then git out where you can see it plainer," says he.

"Ah, quit your kiddin'!" says I. "That's for the common herd, ain't
it? Now, I---- Say, if it'll make you feel any better, I'll tell you
who I am."

"Say it quick then," says he. "Are you Woodrow Wilson, or only the
Secretary of the Navy?"

"You're warm," says I. "I'm a friend of Ira Higgins of Boothbay
Harbor."

"Sho!" says he, removin' his pipe and beginnin' to act human.

"Happen to know Ira?" says I.

"Ought to," says he. "First cousins. You from Boston?"

"Why, Cap!" says I. "What have I ever done to you? Now, honest, do I
look like I--but I'll forgive you this time. New York, Cap: not
Brooklyn, or Staten Island or the Bronx, you know, but straight New
York, West 17th-st. And I've come all this way just to see Mr.
Higgins."

"Gosh!" says he. "Ira always did have all the luck."

Next crack he calls me Sorrel Top, and inside of five minutes we was
joshin' away chummy, me up on a tall stool alongside, and him pointin'
out all the sights. And, believe me, the State of Maine's got some
scenery scattered along the wet edge of it! Honest, it's nothin' but
scenery,--rocks and trees and water, and water and trees and rocks, and
then a few more rocks.

"How about when you hit one of them sharp ones?" says I.

"Government files a new edge on it," says he. "They keep a gang that
does nothin' else."

"Think of that!" says I. "I don't see any lobsters floatin' around,
though."

"Too late in the day," says he. "'Fraid of gittin' sunburned. You
want to watch for 'em about daybreak. Millions then. Travel in
flocks."

"Ye-e-es?" says I. "All hangin' onto a string, I expect. But why the
painted posts stickin' up out of the water?"

"Hitchin' posts," says he, "for sea hosses."

Oh, I got a bunch of valuable marine information from him, and when the
second mate came up he added a lot more. If I hadn't thought to tell
'em how there was always snow