"THE RESTABIT INN. Open June 15 to September 15."

September 15!!! Why, September was past and gone. This was the 3rd of
October. The Restabit Inn was closed for the season.

Slowly, Galusha, tugging the suitcase, stumbled to the edge of the
piazza. There he collapsed, rather than sat down, upon the upper
step. Above him, upon the piazza roof, the rain descended heavily. The
flashlight dimmed and went out altogether.

"OW--ooo---ooo--ooo--OOO!!" whooped the foghorn.

Later, just how much later he never knew exactly, Mr. Bangs awoke from
his faint or collapse or doze, whichever it may have been, to hear some
one calling his name.

"Loosh! Loosh! Loosh!"

This was odd, very odd. "Loosh" was what he had been called at college.
That is, some of the fellows had called him that, those he liked best.
The others had even more offensive nicknames. He disliked "Loosh" very
much, but he answered to it--then.

"Loosh! Loosh! Loosh, where are you?"

Queer that any one should be calling him "Loosh"--any one down here
in... Eh? Where was he? He couldn't remember much except that he was
very tired--except--