packed his belongings in a battered canvas extension case, and announced
his intention of resigning from the service.

"To the everlastin' brimstone with the job!" he snarled, addressing Mr.
Atkins, who, partially dressed, emerged from the bedroom in bewilderment
and sleepy astonishment. "To thunder with it, I say! I've had all the
gov'ment jobs I want. Life-savin' service was bad enough, trampin' the
condemned beach in a howlin' no'theaster, with the sand cuttin'
furrers in your face, and the icicles on your mustache so heavy you
got round-shouldered luggin' 'em. But when your tramp was over, you had
somebody to talk to. Here, by godfreys! there ain't nothin' nor nobody.
I'm goin' fishin' again, where I can be sociable."

"Humph!" commented Seth, "you must be lonesome all to once. Ain't my
company good enough for you?"

"Company! A heap of company you are! When I'm awake you're asleep and
snorin' and--"

"I never snored in my life," was the indignant interruption

"What? YOU'LL snore when you're dead, and wake up the whole graveyard.
Lonesome!" he continued, without giving his companion a chance to
retort, "lonesome ain't no name for this place. No company but green
flies and them moskeeters, and nothin' to look at but salt water and
sand and--and--dummed if I can think of anything else. Five miles from
town and the only house in sight shut tight. When I come here you told
me that bungalow was opened up every year--"

"So it has been till this season."