he smoked a final pipe before turning in. He felt that after
the arduous endeavors of the day he was entitled to a sound and
refreshing sleep. His usual calm had returned to him.

At daylight that very morning when he awakened in the life-saving
station at old Fort Macon, he had felt that he could never again occupy
his old cabin home. Yet, here he was at night, resting well satisfied,
without any qualm whatsoever. The exciting happening of the day--perhaps
especially the opportunity to tell his old rival just what he thought of
the fellow--had proved a balm to his over-strained nerves. He had come
back home with a firm resolve to continue on there in tranquillity, and
to enjoy to the full the days that were before him. It is true that he
missed Shrimp. But, after mature meditation on the matter of the fowl's
going away, the fisherman had about come to the conclusion that in all
probability he had gone of his own free will and accord. It occurred to
the Captain as possible that the bird might have been peeved by his
master's sailing away without him as he hurried to Beaufort Town in
quest of Doctor Hudson. Ichabod believed that Shrimp had seen his
opportunity to cross to the mainland with the strangers and had seized
on it in the hope of being able at last to fight it out with his rooster
rival, whose challenging salute had been tantalizing him for many a day.
Ichabod chuckled as he expressed the wish that Shrimp's encounter with
this rival might give him as much satisfaction as had his own with the
beach-comber.

Now, under the flow of his meditations, the old man grew loquacious. He
went into the shack, shut the door and lighted the lamp. Then he
sprawled at ease in his favorite chair, and since there was no other
auditor at hand, talked to himself.

"Wall! I reckon I have larned a heap this day. The most important fact
is that Icky Jones has been a fool for over twenty year. Jest because a
no-'count woman took a notion in her haid that she had rather marry a
beach-combin' thief than an honest fisherman I have made myself hate all
o' the rest o' the gender, or least-wise to keep away fr'm 'em, an' lead
a miserable lonely life. Why! do ye know, I believe that when I spunked
up an' told old Sandy Mason what I thought o' him an' his callin', an'
rubbed it in some on the poor kid, that it did me more good than a dost
o' medicine. It sure put sand in my craw an' made me feel like fightin'
every mean thing livin'. If I h