all they could stuff to eat. And then one night, when I was cal'atin'
and figgerin' on it, I saw that I couldn't get half of 'em into my boat,
nor a quarter, nor a tenth--jest a little corner of 'em. And then it
come over me, all of a sudden, what a big job I'd tackled, and I jest
turned it over to the Lord, then an there. And all the next day I
kep' kind o' thinkin' about it out here on the rocks--how he'd took a
thousand year--mebbe 't was more; a good long spell, they say--to get
the rocks ready for folks to live on--jest the rocks! And like enough he
knew what he was plannin' to do, and didn't expect me to finish it all
up for him in fo'-five years. Since then I've been leavin' it to him
more--takin' a hand when I could, but payin' more attention to livin'. I
sort o' reckon that's what he made us for--to live. The' 's a good deal
o' fin in it if you go at it right."

"That's a great idea, Uncle William," said the artist.

"It's comf'tabul," assented Uncle William. "You get your livin' as you
go along, and a little suthin' over. Seems 's if some folks didn't even
get a livin' they're so busy doing things."

He was silent for a while, his blue eyes following the light on the
water. "The' was a man I sailed with once,--a cur'us sort o' chap,--and
when he wa'n't sober he could tell you interestin' things. He hadn't
been a sailor al'ays--took to it 'cause he liked it, he said. And he
tol' me a good deal about the goings-on of the earth. Like enough 't
wa'n't so--some on it--but it was interestin'. He told me 't the earth
was all red-hot once, and cooled off quicker on the outside--like a hot
pertater, I s'pose. You've heard about it?" He looked inquiringly at the
artist.