oes," asserted Cap'n Moore, addressing Cap'n Doty, who sat
opposite him on a cracker barrel, "ye'd git a chance to work off them
mackerel."

"I dunno what he's goin' ter do with it," asserted Jess, when a pause
came, "nor care, so long's I git t'other thousand as is comin' when
deeds is passed. I ain't sure I'll git that, either," he added
candidly, "but if I don't the quarry's still mine 'n' a cool thousand o'
that freak's good money's gone out o' circulation anyhow, which is some
comfort."

Then came a lull in conversation, and in place the popping of more corks
and "Here's to yer good luck, Jess," as bottles were elevated and
pointed downward.

"Come, Jess," said Dave Moore, when this second libation had been
indulged in, and who was in a mood for hearing yarns, "tell 'em 'bout
old Bill Atlas."

Now this tale, antedating the day and generation of most of Jess
Hutton's auditors, was nevertheless a favorite with him and one he
always enjoyed telling.

"Wal," he said, "if ye want ter hear 'bout old Bill, I'll tell ye,
though some o' ye here hez heerd 'bout him afore, I reckon. It's been a
good many years since Bill took to his wings, humsoever, 'n' so his
hist'ry may be divartin'. Bill used ter live all 'lone in a little shack
he'd built out o' drift, half way 'tween here and Northaven. That is, he
slept thar nights when he was ashore, fer he was away fishin' most o'
the time. He were the worst soaker on the island, an' from the time he
sot foot ashore 'n' got his pay until every cent was spent, he didn't
draw a sober breath. Thar wan't no use arguin' with Bill, or doin'
anything to reform him. Jist the moment he got a dollar, jist that
moment he started in ter git drunk 'n' allus succeeded. Even Parson
Bush, who hed jist come here then 'n' anxious ter do good, failed on
Bill. No 'mount o' argufyin' 'bout the worm that never dies or the fate
o' sinners hed a mite o' influence on Bill.

"'Parson,' he'd say, 'thar ain't no use a-talkin' ter me. Licker was
made ter be drunk, else why was it made at all, 'n' if the Lord Almighty
didn't cac'late fer me ter drink it, why did he make me hanker for't? Ye
jist preach ter them as is like ter mind it an'll foller it. I ain't,
an' it'll do no good.' An' then Bill'd roll away an' fill up. He wa'n't
a quarrelsome cuss, jist a good-natured soaker who meant ter git drunk,
'n' done it, an' never meant ter bother nobody when he was.

"But some on us young folks in them days sot