atboat and took out sailin' parties from Wixon and Wingate's summer
hotel."

"And you met Mr. Williams? Well, I snum! Was he at the hotel?"

"No, not exactly. I met him sort of casual this second time."

"SECOND time? Had you met him afore that?"

"Don't get ahead of the yarn, Sim. It happened this way: You see, I was
comin' along the road between East Wellmouth and the Center when I run
afoul of him. He was fat and shiny, and drivin' a skittish horse hitched
to a fancy buggy. When he sighted me he hove to and hailed.

"'Here you!' says he, in a voice as fat as the rest of him. 'Your name's
Berry, ain't it.'

"'Yup,' says I.

"'Methusalum Berry or Jehoshaphat Berry or Sheba Berry, or somethin'
like that? Hey?' he says.

"'Well,' says I, 'the last shot you fired comes nighest the bull's eye.
They christened me Solomon, but 'twa'n't my fault; I was young at the
time and they took advantage.'

"He grinned a kind of lopsided grin, like he had a lemon in his mouth,
and commenced to cuss the horse for tryin' to climb a pine tree.

"'I knew 'twas some Bible outrage or other,' he says. 'There's more
Bible names in this forsaken sand heap than there is Christians, a good
sight. When I meet a man with a Bible name and chin whiskers I hang on
to my watch. The feller that sets out to do me has got to have a better
make up than that, you bet your life. 'Well, see here, King Sol; can you
run a gasoline launch?'

"'Why, yes, I guess I can run 'most any of the everyday kinds,' says
I, pullin' thoughtful at my own chin whiskers. This fat man had got me
interested. He was so polite and folksy in his remarks. Didn't seem to
stand on no ceremony, as you might say. Likewise there was a kind of
familiar somethin' about his face. I knew mighty well I'd never met him
afore, and yet I seemed to have a floatin' memory of him, same as a chap
remembers the taste of the senna and salts his ma made him take when he
was little.

"'All right,' says he, sharp. 'Then you come around to my landin'
to-morrer mornin' at eight o'clock prompt and take me out in my launch
to the cod-fishin' grounds. I'll give you ten dollars to take me out
there and back.'

"'Well,' says I, 'ten dollars is a good price enough. Do I furnish--'

"'You furnish nothin' except your grub,' he interrupts. 'The launch'll
be ready and the lines and hooks and bait'll be ready. My own man was to
do the job, but he and I had a heart-to-heart talk just now and I told
him