sheets. You must have pretty nigh as many flies down here as you have
moskeeters. Well, so long. I got to be goin'."

"Wait a minute," pleaded Brown. "What shall I do with this--er--blessed
dog? Is he savage? Why did you bring him in a crate--like a piano?"

"'Cause 'twas the easiest way. You couldn't tie him up, not in a cart no
bigger'n this. Might's well tie up an elephant. Besides, he won't stay
tied up nowheres. Busted more clotheslines than I've got fingers and
toes, that pup has. He needs a chain cable to keep him to his moorin's.
Don't ye, Job, you old earthquake? Hey?"

He pounded on the box, and the earthquake obliged with a renewed series
of shocks and shakings.

The lightkeeper's assistant smiled in spite of himself.

"Who named him Job?" he asked.

"Henry G.'s cousin from Boston. He said he seemed to be always sufferin'
and fillin' the land with roarin's, like Job in the Bible. So, bein' as
he hadn't no name except cuss words, that one stuck. I cal'late Henry
G.'s glad enough to get rid of him. Ho! ho!"

"Did Mr. Atkins see his--this--did he see his present before he accepted
it?"

"No. That's the best part of the joke. Well," clambering to his seat
and picking up the reins, "I've got five mile of sand and moskeeters to
navigate, so I've got to be joggin'. Oh, say! goin' to leave him in the