e she was there yet, watching
him.

He said no word to Judah of his acceptance of the post of commander of
the Fair Harbor. He felt that Judge Knowles should be the first to know
of it and that he, himself, should be the one to tell him. So, after
dinner was over, and Judah had harnessed the old horse to go to the
Minot wood lot for a load of pine boughs and brush for kindling, he
asked his ex-cook to take him across to the judge's in the wagon, leave
him there, and come for him later. Mr. Cahoon, of course, was delighted
to be of service but, of course also, he was tremendously curious.

"Hum," he observed, "goin' to see the judge again, be you, Cap'n Sears?"

"Yes."

"Hum.... Ain't heard that he's any sicker, nor nothin' like that, have
you?"

"No."

"I see.... Yus, yus.... Just goin' to make a--er--sort of--what you
might call a--er--a call, I presume likely."

"I shouldn't wonder."

"Um-hm.... I see.... Yus, yus, I see.... Um-hm.... Well, I suppose we
might as well--er--start now as any time, eh?"

"Better, I should say, Judah. Whenever you and the Foam Flake are ready,
I am."

The Foam Flake was the name with which Judah had rechristened the old
horse. The animal's name up to the time of the rechristening had been
Pet, but this, Mr. Cahoon explained, he could _not_ stand.

"'Whatever else he is,' says I to young Minot, 'he ain't no pet--not of
mine. The only way I ever feel like pettin' that oat barrel,' I says,
'is with a rope's end.' 'Well, why don't you give him a new name?' says
he. 'What'll I call him?' says I. 'Anything you can think of,' he says.
'By Henry,' says I. 'I have called him about everything I can think of,
already.' Haw, haw! That was a pretty good one, wan't it Cap'n Sears?"

"But where did you get 'Foam Flake' from?" the captain had wanted to
know.

"Oh, it just come to me, as you might say, same as them things do come
sometimes. I was tellin' the Methodist minister about it one day and he
said 'twas a--er--one of them--er--inflammations. Eh? Don't seem as if
it could have been 'inflammation,' but 'twas somethin' like it."

"Inspiration, maybe."

"That's the ticket, inspiration's what 'twas. Well, I was kind of
draggin' a seine through my head, so to speak, tryin' to haul aboard a
likely name for the critter, and fetchin' the net in empty every time,
when one day that--er--what-d'ye-call-it?--inflammation landed on me.
I'd piloted 'Pet' and the truck wagon over to Harniss--an