emember to do more than grin she had disappeared
around the corner of the station. Therefore he did not see the young man
who stepped forward to shake her hand and whisper in her ear. This young
man was Sam Bartlett, and, as a "city dude," Issy loathed and hated him.

No, Issy did not see the hurried and brief meeting between Bartlett and
Gertie Higgins, but he had seen enough to cause forgetfulness of mundane
things. For an instant he stared after the vanished vision. Then he
stepped blindly forward, tripped over something--"his off hind leg," so
Captain Sol afterwards vowed--and fell sprawling, the express package
beneath him.

The crash of glass reached the ears of the depot master. He broke away
from the conductor and ran toward his prostrate "assistant." Pushing
aside the delighted and uproarious bystanders, he forcibly helped the
young man to rise.

"What in time?" he demanded.

Issy agonizingly held the package to his ear and shook it.

"I--I'm afraid somethin's cracked," he faltered.

The crowd set up a whoop. Ed Crocker appeared to be in danger of
strangling.

"Cracked!" repeated Captain Sol. "Cracked!" he smiled, in spite of
himself. "Yes, somethin's cracked. It's that head of yours, Issy. Here,
let's see!"

He snatched the package from the McKay hands and inspected it.

"Smashed to thunder!" he declared. "Who's the lucky one it belongs to?
Humph!" He read the inscription aloud, "Major Cuthbertson S. Hardee. The
Major, hey! . . . Well, Is, you take the remains inside and you and I'll
hold services over it later."

"I--I didn't go to do it," protested the frightened Issy.

"Course you didn't. If you had you wouldn't. You're like the feller
in Scriptur', you leave undone the things you ought to do and do them
that--All right, Jim! Let her go! Cast off!"

The conductor waved his hand, the engine puffed, the bell rang, and
the train moved onward. For another twelve hours East Harniss was left
marooned by the outside world.

Beriah Higgins and the mail bag were already in the post office. Thither
went the crowd to await the sorting and ultimate distribution. A short,
fat little man lingered and, walking up to the depot master, extended
his hand.

"Hello, Sol!" he said, smiling. "Thought I'd stop long enough to say
'Howdy,' anyhow."

"Why, Bailey Stitt!" cried the Captain. "How are you? Glad to see you.
Thought you was down to South Orham, takin' out seasick parties for the
Ocean House, same kind