Nov. 8, 1913. 
FOREST AND STREAM 
601 
CAP’N LIGE O’ LONELYVILLE. 
Continued from page 583. 
careful at the top of the cabin. I sits with my 
mouth wide open a watchin’ him studyin’ an’ 
studyin’ that cabin top like ’twas some kind of 
very curious bug or somethin’, turnin’ his head 
first one side, then t'other like a settin’ broad- 
bill sizin’ up a stool, an’ I thinks to myself, poor 
Bill, ’sides turnin’ nigger is goin’ looney ’t the 
same time. 
“Then all to oncet I see him stick out his 
front finger an’ p’int up toward the top of that 
cabin, an’ begin to inch up on to it very thought¬ 
ful, an’ then I know’d he’s looney. He keeps 
on inchin’ his finger up till he touches the roof 
with it; then he hauls it down an’ sniffs of it. 
“I see then he was gettin’ pretty bad, an’ 1 
begin to git ready to make a jump on to him 
when he ain’t lookin’ so’s I can tie him up so’s 
he won’t hurt himself or me. An’ jest about’s 
I’m ready to make that jump he all to oncet 
busts out into an awful fit of laughin’, doublin’ 
all over on his knees, an’ rockin’ himself back 
an' forth. It took me clean by surprise, an’ I 
swallers the jump before she's started, took all 
aback, an’ my feet goin’ like a hen what’s 
scratchin’ for worms, but my body standin' 
still. 
“An’ then, b’guy, that Bill, sputterin’ an’ 
swagglin’ fit to choke t’ death begins to tell me 
somethin’ that I can’t understand for the chunks 
0’ laugh he’s got fouled up into it. All I gits 
is somethin’ about cre-sotee, an’ dum fools, an 
—well, I give up. ’Bout half an hour I got Bill 
flattened out to pretty near a ca’m, an’ what 
d’you think ’twas all about! He always was 
pretty smart on figgerin’, that Bill. An' he 
noticed that the white woodwork of the top of 
the cabin was turnin’ coon color jest th’ same’s 
me an’ him. Then he figgers a little, an’ pretty 
soon he gits an idee. He jest rubs his finger 
on that woodwork an’ sniffs her. An’ he smells 
the cre-sotee, an’ in course he’s wise. That there 
smoke from that cre-sotee log we been burnin’ 
for nigh a week was what was turnin’ us black, 
an’ ’twa’n’t no jedgment at all. You see, we 
didn't used to bother much about washin’ them 
days, or we might a not been so fooled, for when 
I grabs a towel an’ goes at Bill, I has him a 
white man again in a jiffy. Then he does the 
same for me, an’ we’s all right. 
“An’ now,” concluded Cap’n Lige, “it’s a 
long way back to your shanty, an’ you might jes’ 
as well turn in here. I got a couple spare bunks 
aloft, an’ I’ll help you git rigged in the mornin’ 
down to the cove.” 
The old man got up stiffly and shuffled 
across toward the door. We noted the tall, 
stooping thinness of his frame, and as though 
he had read our minds, he called back to us 
over his shoulder: “I’m a sort o’ poor ole shell 
pegger, scoutin’ ’long the medder bank for a 
feedin’ ground,” he said, “but oncet I git my 
wings limbered up I can make toler’ble good 
time.” 
We chuckled under our breaths at the apt¬ 
ness of his comparison. He surely did resemble 
some lean, wise, long-necked old shelldrake. The 
next instant he was calling us from the door: 
“Gee-mimany!” he cried, “it’s gittin’ cold! 
Dol ding if we ain’t goin’ to have a piece o’ 
weather before mornin’. There’s dost on to an 
inch of ice in the water barrel now, an’ this here 
old themmie-moter o’ mine says the temypertur’s 
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gone down to ten degrees an’ still goin’. ’Twas 
twenty-two at sundown.” 
Quinker and I were not long in getting to 
the old man’s side. That sudden drop in tem¬ 
perature held significance to us. Another half 
dozen degrees and the bay would be shut up 
tight with ice, and that in turn would mean 
that we would be marooned on the beach until 
a thaw opened things up again, or until increas¬ 
ing cold spanned the whole seven-mile expanse 
so that we could walk home. In this event our 
sloop would be frozen in, and she would then 
be in danger of being stove in or carried away 
when the ice broke up. 
“What do you think, captain ?” asked 
Quinker anxiously; “will ice be making by morn¬ 
ing ?” 
The old man snorted. “Ice makin’ ?” he 
grunted. “Why, son, there’s ice makin’ now,. 
I dare say there’s a couple hundred yard of it 
set offshore in the last hour, an’ more an’ more 
a settin’ down every minute. 
“There ain’t no wind, an’ by mornin’ I 
calc’late there’ll be a coverin’ of it everywhere 
’ceptin’ the deep water in the channels. I guess 
you boys ’s about sot to stay on the beach till 
she breaks up.” 
“Wow!” I exclaimed, “we’re in for it! We- 
ought to have known we were taking a chance.- 
coming across this late in the year.” 
